Chapter Four
Emma
As much as I hate it, Clifton is right. The second I resorted to name calling, I lost the argument.
Not that it was really about winning or losing more, just me standing up for someone that’s important to me. His dad had been gutted when he left after their conversation, and I wanted to protect him and try to help. Clifton can go to hell for all I care.
The man is arrogant and sufferable, and I can understand how he makes his father feel miserable.
The entire drive back to my place, I fume about him. While taking a shower, I pace back and forth having conversations with him out loud even though he”s not in the room with me.
“He’s your dad, he’s a great guy, can’t you just give him a break?”
Of course, the white subway tiles don”t respond.
“He’s the only living parent you have, and you just push him away.” After losing my family to my abusive ex-fiancé, I can”t imagine not doing everything in my power to rebuild a bridge, no matter why it burned or who started the fire.
His dad tried. I’d sat there as Anton confided that no matter what he tried, his son just wouldn’t see reason. He is worried his son will never amount to anything. I know Clifton has so much potential, it’s infuriating that he either doesn”t see it or doesn’t care.I’d give anything to have the leg up he has in life.
“You can lose your family in the blink of an eye; why take him for granted?” But my silent bathroom painted the deepest shade of blue-gray with white accents doesn’t seem to have any answers, and I question if I’m crazy for talking to myself. It’s a question to save for later. For now, I turn off the water and step out onto my gel bathmat while pulling my towel around myself.
At the mirror, I swipe away the steam and continue talking to myself. “You’re such a mess. You’re going on a date with Sterling. Pull it together, missy.”
As I say the words, the steam continues to re-obscure the mirror, and I sigh as the warm air feels like an arctic wind thanks to the heat of my shower. With quick hands, I dry off, muttering to myself about jerks thinking everything is an argument because they’re not mature enough to hold a conversation. When I’m dry, I spritz my perfume on my collarbone, then pull on a lavender flowy dress.
When I finally start blow-drying my hair, the sound drowns out my voice as I continue to be angry at Clifton. “He’s your dad! He’s such a nice guy and you treat him like crap. Some of us would love to have dads in our life.” But mine had walked out, taking my heart, happiness, and my worthless ex with him.
Maybe that is the key. “That’s it!” I say, lifting my head before continuing to dry my hair into large, rounded waves that feel halfway down my back. If I share my personal story with him, maybe he’ll see reason and understand why this is so important and that he’s making a terrible mistake.
The next time I see him, I”ll go a little bit in depth with what I’ve been through and hope that helps change his mind.
But for right now, I need to calm down and forget about him. I need to focus on something positive, something like my date tonight.
We’ve been dating off and on for about three months now. He’d respected my boundaries and given me the time and space I needed and didn’t seem to have any red flags. And trust me, I’ve been on the lookout for anything even slightly pink-colored.
With another glance at myself in the mirror, I take a deep breath, hold it in for three seconds, then let it go along with all the tension in my shoulders and neck.
Walking out of the bathroom, I glance into my full-length mirror, loving the feminine and soft cut of my dress and the delicate lavender color. I always feel the need to appear so crisp at work I never get to enjoy just being pretty.
Taking the skirt in my hands, I give a little spin, feeling silly as I do, but the long skirt flares out just a little bit, and my heart flutters in my chest. For a moment, I’m happy and at peace with this world of mine. With gentle hands, I fix a stray strand of hair and smile at myself. I could add jewelry, but I like this reasonably quiet, understated look.
I’m sure Sterling will like it, too. Not that he’s ever made comments about my body or style, I just figure if I look good, he might agree. Trying to stop the trembling in my hands, I grab my keys, dump them in my purse with my phone in a separate compartment to keep it safe, and make my way to my door.
The lock engages behind me, and I face the world with another deep breath. It’s dark, but not super late, thankfully. The air is warm and dry, very indicative of summer and the sounds of distant horns honking, conversations, and vehicles driving leave me hugging myself.
We’d agreed to meet at a classy wine and coffee bar, and I just walk, loving how the wind plays with my skirt and how good I feel just experiencing the world without thinking about anything - or anyone - stressful. I don’t get enough down time without thinking about work, so I plan to squeeze every last drop of joy out of these moments.
When I finally make my way to the door of the bar, I show the guy my ID and he waves me in. The smell of coffee, expensive cologne, and alcohol stings my nose, and a rush of panic fills me until I spot Sterling at a tall table.
Making my way to him with a smile, I watch him give me a head-to-toe look over with a playful expression as he steps down from his seat and pulls me into a warm hug. “That color is beautiful on you,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling my cheeks warm.
“I ordered a glass of your favorite red,” he says as we both get into our chairs. He leans forward and pats my hand. The touch isn’t unwelcome, and I stare at our hands, wondering if I’m crazy. I just don’t feel a spark, a connection. He’s someone that I’d recommend all my friends date, but I just don’t know that I’ll ever feel more for him.
But that’s what dating is for, to get to know one another. Maybe we’ll cultivate a spark through conversation and time spent together. It’s worth a shot anyway.
I glance around, loving the dim lights and cozy atmosphere. I’m so used to coffee shops with those bright wake-you-up lights.
“This place is great. I can’t believe I’ve never come here before,” I say as Sterling smiles at me. “You look very handsome,” I say, taking in his nice button down and dark slacks. He ducks his head with a heart-melting grin.
“Thank you.” When he looks at me again, there’s a sparkle in his amber-colored eyes.
A woman drops off our drinks and I thank her. Taking a sip of my wine, I scan the room.
“How was your day?” Sterling asks.
I glance at him again. “That’s a dangerous question.” With a short, sharp laugh, I try not to let Clifton ruin my good time.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says kindly.
“It’s okay. I just have to defend my boss’s son and he’s always getting into trouble; you know what I mean?” I ask. Sterling nods and the words pour out of me around sips of wine.
“He treats his dad poorly, he’s a bit of a jerk, and for some reason he doesn”t seem to care about anybody but himself.” I’d already told Sterling a bit about my past. “It stings when I think about how I lost my family and then watch someone else throw theirs away.”
I take another sip of my wine, then another, hoping the alcohol will help calm my trembling hands.
“Are you cold?” Sterling asks.
I shake my head. “Just... mad. Frustrated. He just makes me... furious.” The more I talk, the better I feel. Sterling sits back in his seat, drinking from his cup and nodding his head while I talk.
“Sometimes I just wish he’d disappear, or that I could quit, or something, you know. But he’s my boss”s son, and that would tear him apart. I can’t imagine how destroyed he’d be if something happened to his son. But his son is already hurting him so much. I just don’t know how anyone can be so selfish and cruel.” I take a deep breath.
“People are surprising sometimes,” Sterling says.
“That’s just it, there’s no surprise. I’m constantly having to defend him for stupid fights he gets into over nothing. And he’s cruel to his father every time, without fail.” I finish my wine and lock eyes with the waitress, nodding my head to indicate I’d like another.
“Maybe you should just refuse.” Sterling’s words have me considering that option.
“If I do that, he’ll have to go back to defending his son, and I don’t know if that would be good for either of them.” I shake my head.
“Well, at some point you have to put yourself first,” Sterling says.
“You’re right. I should put myself first.” I nod my head, liking that idea as the waitress drops off another wine in front of me. I take another sip, feeling some of the tension drain from my body.
“Well, as awful as you seem to think he is, obviously he made quite the impression on you.” At Stirling’s words, I glance at him. What could he possibly mean by that?
“I’m not following,” I say, noticing he’s not willing to hold my gaze. “What do you mean?”
He sighs, staring at the empty glass in his hands as if actively avoiding me. “Emma, we’ve been on a date for an hour. All you’ve done is talk about another man. Don’t you think that’s a bit... odd?”
Stunned, I try to figure out where things went off the rails. It’s been an hour? I pull out my phone to see he’s right. “It’s not odd. I’m just venting to you. That’s part of being in a relationship, right? Sharing your problems with one another?” I mean, would he rather I lied and said my day was fine? I don’t know the right answer, but a knot in my belly tightens as he continues to stare at his glass.
“Sure, but there’s a big difference between sharing and obsessing. You sound obsessed with this guy, like he’s all you can think about. I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with him.”
“That’s ridiculous. I hate Clifton.” He couldn”t possibly think I loved Clifton, could he? “How could you say that?” I ask, still unsure how this date - which started out so promising - had fallen apart like this.
He shrugs and says, “I don”t know, Emma. Maybe you”re in denial. Maybe you”re confused. But I can bet that if I sat here and spent an hour talking about another woman-” he lifts a hand to cut me off as I try to talk over him, “if I spent an hour talking about another woman, you’d be furious.”
Is he right? Would I really have a problem with this? Stunned, I try to make sense of the whole bewildering situation.
Sterling stands up, puts some bills down on the table, and makes his way toward the door without another word.
All I can do is watch him go, noticing the stares of other people as I sit by myself at the table. If he’s that mad about me thinking about a guy, I guess it’s best I hadn’t gotten to the part where Clifton had kissed me. What would that have made him do or say?
The door closes behind him and I struggle to breathe.
Did he just break up with me?