Chapter Ten
Emma
What is he doing here?
I want to ask, but the words won’t come.
Did he forget how he’d stormed out of our date? How he’d left me hanging and hasn’t answered any calls, texts, or voicemails?
It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from him. How could he possibly think showing up at my work after making me feel like the worst girlfriend ever for venting about work troubles is a good idea?
I am well aware that I”m standing here staring at him, unable to get my mouth to say any of the words that are racing through my mind.
And the fact that he”s standing there at the door of my office, smiling like nothing happened only confuses me more.
What the actual heck is going on right now?
I blink, still trying to find the right words - hell, any words to say to him. How can he stand there with the infuriating smile on his handsome face like he’s expecting me to pull him into a huge hug and gush about how happy I am that he’s finally back in my life?
I don’t feel lucky that Sterling is back - I feel angry that he let me think I didn’t matter to him, that I was so unimportant he could walk away without a second thought.
“Hi, Emma,” he says, pulling me into a hug without my permission. I just stand there feeling awkward with my arms trapped down at my sides. His cologne invades my nostrils and the way he squeezes me feels anything but safe. I don”t want this. I don”t want him. I don”t like that he feels he has the right to just walk in here after everything that happened and how he”s treated me as if nothing has changed between us.
I want to ask him if he”d be okay with me walking out on a date and then just showing up weeks later as if nothing happened.
I push him away, trying to act casual even though I feel angry, small, and frustrated by his sudden, unwelcome appearance. “Sterling, what are you doing here?” I ask, hearing the unwavering falsely bright tone in my words.
Clifton’s chair makes that small squeak of protest it does when he spins toward the door. Knowing that he”s watching only heightens my discomfort.
Sterling gives me a sheepish grin. “I came to apologize, babe. I know I was a jerk the other night.”
I’m surprised both by his apology and the fact that he thinks it was only the other night instead of weeks ago. But when he continues, I forget everything but my anger. “But I”ve forgiven you for your behavior.”
“You what?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“I forgive you.” He pushes into my office without waiting to be invited and turns toward me, swinging his arms wide like he’s going to give me another hug. Now that Sterling’s back is pointed in Clifton’s general direction, I can see my partner watching events unfold with a mischievous grin on his handsome face. That monster is enjoying this uncomfortable situation.
But Clifton’s amusement is not the reason that I feel a surge of anger. No, I”m furious at Sterling”s words. He”s forgiven me. For what? For talking to him about a man who at the time had me so upset I couldn”t think straight? The man who happens to be in the room with us right now, watching this whole scene with curiosity?
How can Sterling be so blind as to remember that I had a conversation with him about a coworker that drove me nuts and being in the same room with a man I work with without putting two and two together? I”m not sure if he”s dumb or just doesn”t realize what that entire conversation we had was about outside his anger. I”m voting for the first option.
I try to ignore the fact that Clifton is sitting in his chair watching with a gleeful expression. The only thing he’s missing is the popcorn to really enjoy this dramatic moment.
I hope from the depths of my angry heart that Clifton doesn”t realize he was the topic of conversation on that disaster estate.
Sterling’s joyous expression dims, as if I”m not responding at all how he”d expected or hoped I would. “Aren”t you happy to see me?” he asks, clearly lacking the cognitive function to read the room or the tense emotions hanging in the air.
I”m about as happy to see him as I”d be if an alligator climbed up the pipes to pop out in the toilet while I was relieving myself. Of course, I’m not about to tell him that.
He pushes on, oblivious to the meaning of my silence. “I have forgiven you for only thinking of another man while on our date.” He flashes a quick grin and moves closer to me, but I back up a step. “I know you were just venting. I understand that, but your behavior was rude and disrespectful. I know you can do better, and I want to give you another chance.”
I feel a sudden surge of heat bathe my cheeks and I resist the urge to slap him. How dare he? I was rude? I was disrespectful? He’s the one who walked out! He ignored me for weeks! He showed up unannounced and uninvited at my workplace, and he has the gall to claim I’m the problem?
I open my mouth to share my thoughts, but he cuts me off.
“Look, I”m not here to fight. I want to make up. I really like you, Emma, and I want to give you another chance. So let”s forget the past and start fresh, okay?” There”s something so fresh faced and earnest in the way he speaks that I”m almost stunned. He really doesn”t see how he is the problem here - He”s convinced that I’m the issue.
I have to wonder once again if there”s something I”m just not seeing or just so profoundly different that there’s no way we can find common ground. If this is how he behaves when we disagree about something this minute, how will he behave when we’re facing big issues? I can”t imagine he”d do anything different.
And I can”t imagine being with someone like that. “You”re right,” I say, weighing my next words carefully. “I was completely rude and disrespectful talking about another man while we were on a date.” My heart squeezes as the petty side of me rears up. “I’m also sorry, I should have said something sooner.” I watch his eyebrows raise, a sense of evil welling up in me. He’s going to be so mad. “The money you left didn”t cover the cost of your drink, so I told them to put it on your tab.”
His eyebrows scrunch together, and I sense his anger as I make sure to call him out for sticking me with part of his bill. “I left more than enough for my drink and a tip.”
I shake my head. “Take it up with them.” And I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a too-loud stage whisper as if I’m sparing him some embarrassment. “I have no problem paying my own way, but a man who can’t do math isn’t exactly my type.”
He hesitates, studying my face. Then lets out a booming laugh that confuses me. “Oh, Emma, you’re so funny. This is why I love you - you keep me on my toes and make me laugh.”
Is he... is he delusional?
“I’m so happy we were able to work this out,” he says, reaching for me to pull me close, but I dance away, my face still white-hot with embarrassment that all of this is happening in front of Clifton. I’m sure he’s getting a kick out of this situation and enjoying some cheap laughs at my expense.
“Just to be clear, though,” Sterling says, glancing at Clifton for the first time since walking into the room. “If she were your date and she spent over an hour talking about some other guy, would you be okay with that?”
He feels like he’s won and he’s still trying to convince me I’m wrong? Am I losing my mind right now?
Clifton doesn”t so much as look in Sterling’s direction. Instead, he focuses his gorgeous green eyes on me and speaks in a low, calm tone.
”Emma, if I went on a date with you, you could talk about the weather in Egypt and I”d still hang on every word.” His gaze darts back and forth between mine.
A jolt of electric current races through me. Did he just say what I think I heard? Did he just imply that he wants to date me? I’m sure he’s just sticking up for me; that’s the only thing that makes sense.
Sterling doesn”t seem to appreciate his answer, however, and glares at him - not that Clifton seems to notice. He’s still studying me with that intentness that warms me up from the inside.
”Who are you, anyway?” Sterling asks, every trace of kindness gone from his voice.
I nearly leap forward. I don’t want Clifton to say his name, because everything will fall apart, and Sterling will likely lose his mind. After all, Clifton’s words would likely reinforce that I’m in love with the guy in Sterling’s mind.
And now, I’m not so sure how I feel.
I can feel the anger and jealousy rolling off Sterling. “Who the hell is this jackass?” Sterling asks, seeming to suddenly realize I share an office with the person who just disagreed with him and very compellingly threw his name in the hat for me to consider. Though I’m still certain it was all for show to put Sterling in his place.
While I’m uncomfortable with the whole situation, Clifton’s attention makes me feel at ease. I can practically hear him telling me I can get through this, that I’m strong and brave, and that Sterling doesn”t deserve me.
Clifton’s right - the right guy will support me, no matter what I talk about on a date, just like I’d support him.
Of course, I’m not sure how to label Clifton to Sterling. My work partner? My friend? My crush?
The last one slips in, almost unnoticed, but as I think about those words, I have to admit they’re true. I like him.
Maybe Katie was onto something when she mentioned that sometimes people outside of us have a better perspective.
But Sterling’s anger seems to be rising. “Is he the guy?” Sterling asks.
Clifton arches an eyebrow as if asking me the same question.
He is the guy, but I don’t want him to know that or Sterling to say anything.
“Is this the guy you were talking about on our date?” Sterling’s voice rises an octave, and he sounds more threatened than a raccoon on the business end of a broom after being caught stealing. “Is he the one you were thinking about while you were out with me?”
And the truth slams into me like a speeding bus.
“The problem wasn’t that I was talking about someone else on our date,” I say as everything falls into place and I finally understand. “The problem is that you’re jealous that I was thinking about another guy. You don’t actually think I love the person. You are so insecure you were upset that I dare think of anyone but you.” A smile tugged at the corners of my lips even as pity filled me. “That’s so sad,” I said before I could stop myself.
Sterling looks about ready to explode as his face goes red and his mouth tries to form words but instead makes a series of noises like a cartoon character might.
Needing to diffuse the situation and take advantage of Sterling being off balance, I take his shoulder and guide him toward the door. “I’m sorry, but I’m terribly busy. I’ll call you later. Bye!” With that, I close the door behind me and press my back to it as if holding him out.
Clifton and I lock gazes.
“He seems nice,” Clifton says, and I can’t hold back a laugh.