Chapter Twenty-six
Emma
I can barely draw a breath.
How could he just end things and worse, end them through an impersonal text?
It”s been several days since he dumped me, and I”m still trying to pick up the pieces of my emotions and broken heart.
He hasn”t come back to work yet, but I assume that he has been talking to other people about his plans. But I”m not the one that”s in the loop anymore, and that kills me. I wonder if he”s okay. I wonder why he chose now, of all times, to break up with me.
Did Sterling get to him? Or did he tell his dad about us, only for his dad to tell him he’s making a huge mistake? The last option is the most probable.
I should have prepared better for this. Instead, I feel absolutely blindsided. The timing just doesn”t make sense - his dad must be the reason. But I can’t imagine why Anton wouldn’t want us together. Would the man really make work a priority over his son’s happiness? And if Anton knows, why wasn’t I fired?
There are so many questions that keep circling my mind, but I have no answers for any of them.
Every text that I send to Clifton goes unanswered. Every phone call goes to voicemail. I keep replaying our time together, trying to see if there was something I missed, some reason that he ended things so abruptly and without warning. He didn’t even send a goodbye text. Had I done something to upset him?
And what did he mean by just keeping things professional? Does that mean that even our friendship is void?
I try again to take a deep breath as I stare at the paperwork in front of me. But even this case doesn”t seem as important as it should. My whole world has collapsed inward, and I don”t know what to do or how to move forward.
I thought everything was perfect.
Obviously, he doesn’t feel the same way. I hate the dull ache, the throbbing ache I feel every time my heart beats. I hate that I don”t have an appetite or that life doesn”t seem as exciting as it did before. I miss Clifton.
I miss our conversations and the easy laughter we shared together in this very office. The way he”d watch me with that slight smile on his lips. I miss eating meatball subs together and talking about flowers. I miss how much fun we had, how we’d put our heads together and work, how I could talk to him without feeling awkward, judged, or stupid.
I didn”t stop caring about him just because he broke up with me, I”m just not sure how to care about him with the barriers he put in place. I wish I could just shut those emotions down, but they cling to every decision I make and sway my thoughts. I find myself wondering what Clifton would say about this case, or how he”d feel about the arguments I’d thought up. I wonder if he’d like the new coffee place I tried and love. I wonder if he’s also eating pistachio ice cream before bed every night, even though the treat tastes muted.
I just feel so awful about life in general. Taking a moment to jot a note on a page I realize I”ve lost the thought before I could even put pen to paper. Clifton and our relationship are top of mind and supersede everything else I try to think about.
I can”t help but think I”m being stupid, letting my broken heart control me like this. If I was smart, I”d start moving forward, moving on with my life, knowing that he”s not going to be in it.
But that”s hard to do when I miss him. His smile, his laugh, his voice. The warmth of his embrace, the way he always made sure I ate lunch, his kindness and that ever-present sparkle in his eyes when he glanced my direction.
I had mistakenly thought he was falling for me. I drop the paperwork on my desk and glance out the window, trying to forget him and our time together. If I don”t focus on this case, there’s no way I’ll win it. But at this point, I’m not even sure I’m cut out for this work anymore. Maybe I’m just sad over this loss, and I can only hope that time will fade this pain to a dull ache.
But right now, it’s impossible for me to focus. I plant both elbows on my desk and put my head in my hands. How do I just pretend to be okay? How do I fake my way through life, acting like nothing’s wrong and I’m not in agony inside?
I never should have let him get close. It was stupid of me to open up and give him everything he needed to hurt me. And I’m paying for that mistake now.
I blink back stinging tears and fold my arms on my desk, lowering my head as I try to keep from breaking down.
There’s a quick knock on the office door, but I don’t say anything. “You are here,” Melly says. “Are you okay?”
“I have a headache.” The lie pops out without any thought on my part.
She makes a concerned sound. “Hmm. I have some over the counter stuff that might help.”
“Thank you,” I say, “but I”m okay.”
“There’s no reason to suffer, hon,” Melly says.
Oh, there”s absolutely reasons to suffer. “No, thanks,” I say, lifting my head and blinking at my computer screen. I flash a false smile in Melly”s direction. “What can I do for you?”
She had to have a reason for coming into my office.
“I was just checking to see if you were here. Now I know,” she says with a smile before slipping out of the room and closing the door with a quiet click.
Why was she checking to see if I”m in here? Did Clifton send her in to check? And if he did, why?
I”m fed up with today and decide that I need to get out of here. It”s time to go home so I can be alone. So I pack up my things with trembling hands, then leave my office, making a beeline for the elevator. I try to keep my head down, as if that”ll discourage people, but repeatedly I”m asked how I”m doing.
I give superficial, easy answers with a smile I can only hope is convincing.
And when I finally make it into the elevator, down to the ground floor, I come face to face with security and know that I”m going to have to keep lying.
“I”ll walk you out to your car,” Travis says. He’s a brick wall of a man and someone I trust to keep Sterling from approaching if he’s dumb enough to have waited by my car again.
“Thank you,” I say as he falls into step beside me.
“How was your day?” he asks.
I know he”s just being polite, but I don”t know that I have the energy for the small talk and banter. “It was fantastic. How was yours?” I manage to keep the lie going and he nods his head, rattling on about how time can’t pass quickly enough because he has some plans with his son this weekend.
“That’s nice,” I say as we walk up to my car. “I hope you both have an amazing time.” With that, I open my door and slip into my seat, somehow managing to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks while he’s in sight. But once he”s in the rearview mirror, twin tears roll down my cheeks.
I sniff softly as I drive, feeling silly for caring so much. The whole drive home, I feel like a zombie going through the motions. Maybe I should be grateful that I”m on autopilot, but I can’t quite manage that. When I finally park my car and get out, I make my way inside my building and take the elevator up to the top floor. I hurry toward my room, hoping Margret doesn”t notice me.
Once I”m safely in my apartment. I close the door behind myself and scan the room. A ghost of him walks into my kitchen like the man had the morning after we spent an incredible night together, and I press the back of my hand to my mouth before hurrying to my room.
I can’t escape the memories of him, of our time together, or how he made me feel.
And I see flowers. A sea of flowers drying up. Their petals rain down onto the surfaces below, and I don’t have the will to throw them out or order new ones, so they sit as a sad testament to my life before.
Once again, I wonder how it was so easy for him to just walk away. After checking my phone to make sure I didn”t miss any calls or texts, I toss the device onto my bed along with my purse. I strip out of my fitted dress and pull on some comfy sweats and a tee-shirt. I need the comfort right now.
Letting my blonde hair out of the tight bun I’d worn today, I shake my head, freeing the natural waves that are accentuated by the twist and coil of the bun. As I run my fingers through my hair, I feel an ache in my scalp, like the hairstyle left bruises behind.
And I want to cry.
Not about the scalp pain.
About Clifton.
The phone rings and I practically pounce on the thing. Disappointment floods me as I realize it”s not Clifton calling but Katie. I just don”t have the energy right now, so I refuse the call and send her a quick text.
Hey, not feeling great. What’s up?
It’s not her - I don”t want to talk to anyone or hear anyone or see anyone, except maybe Clifton. Right now, I kind of just want to be alone with my thoughts and memories.
I know she’s my best friend and confidant, and she”s been there for me through thick and thin, that she”s helped me through good times and bad times and experienced the joy and the sorrow by my side. But this? This is just too much. I don”t want to drag her into this mess when I can’t even handle it myself.
Are you okay? Her concerned message has me blinking back tears again.
If there”s one person that I don”t want to lie to about this, it”s my best friend. But what choice do I have? I can”t exactly tell her the truth now can I?
I’m okay. I bite down on my lip as I send the message, hating that I”m saying that to her. I wince at her follow up message.
Is Clifton okay?
Is he? I have no idea. The man won”t talk to me. I feel a jolt of pain in my chest, and I wonder how to tell her that he’s gone. We broke up.
I”m just not in a place where I can discuss this, but I worry my best friend isn”t going to let it go.
Ohmygosh, what happened? Are you okay? Do you need anything?
He broke it off via text a few days ago. I’m okay. Don’t need anything. How are things going with you?I don”t want to give any more details than I already have. It hurts too much to think about it. I”m not ready to talk. I can only hope that by changing the subject she”ll take the hint that I don”t want to talk about Clifton, the breakup, or anything else.
She doesn”t respond right away, and I wonder if she”s angry with me for brushing her off. I don”t blame her for not being a very good friend.
But then she texts again. I”m sorry, Emma. I”m here if you need me. My job is okay. Nothing exciting, Just the usual stuff.
I feel a sense of relief as I read those words. I can”t help but be grateful that she knows when to back off. She”s the best friend a girl could ask for.
You’re the best. I love you.
She responds right away. I love you, too, Em. Take care of yourself, okay?
I try to imagine taking care of myself as I text her back. I will.
When I put the phone down, I feel a little bit better and I glance at myself in my mirror, trying to figure out what I should do next. Katie”s right; self-care would probably be a good idea.
But before I can decide what I want to do to help ease the tension within me, I hear the doorbell ring. I hope whoever it is, they don”t mind me in my sweats and tee-shirt.
Some small silly part of me hopes that it”s Clifton at the door. But when I pull the door open, it’s a delivery man on the other side, holding a vase with a beautiful arrangement of lilies, green ferns, and pale purple irises. “Delivery for Emma,” he says, pressing them into my hands with a smile.
I stare at the flowers in disbelief, stunned both by their beauty and the fact that they are a cruel reminder of what I”ve lost.
“Thank you,” I whisper around a lump in my throat. I had forgotten that he set up automatic orders before he dumped me. I”m sure he forgot to cancel it.
Closing the door behind him, I glance down at the sweet-smelling flowers. For the first time in my life I”m unsure what to do with flowers. So I walk into my kitchen and put the flowers on the table, pushing aside the dead ones I’ve yet to clean up.
I need to get out of the house.
With quick steps, I make my way into my room and pull on a pretty, loose dress before grabbing my keys, purse, and phone. I don”t know where I”m going, but I don”t care. I just need to clear my head and get out of my house.
I rush out to my car and drive aimlessly without a destination. I turn on the radio and listen to some upbeat pop music about love. I try to relax, but I can”t stop thinking about Clifton, wondering what he”s doing. This is silly - I”m acting like some lovesick little girl experiencing her first heartbreak.
I finally stop at a little bar that serves food and decide that I can take an UBER home. Maybe a drink will make me feel better. I head inside, feeling the pulsing music all the way down to my bones. The place is full of mostly young and attractive people, some dancing, others flirting, still others drinking. In one corner, a couple of guys are playing some kind of drinking game, and I wonder if I stumbled in on someone’s birthday party or something. As I take a seat at the bar I feel out of place, but I don”t care.
The bartender comes by, his gaze on me.
“Something strong,” I say.
He nods, setting up some shots for me as I slip cash across the counter to him. Without worry, I take the first shot and give my body a moment as the fiery liquid burns all the way down my throat to my belly. When was the last time I ate?
Almost instantly, I feel warm. I down another shot. Then another. The world begins to tilt and spin, and I shake my head as a welcome numbness fills me.
I glance over as a handsome, dark-haired guy drops into the seat beside me.
“I”d ask to buy you another, but I”m not sure that”s a good idea.” He says the words with a devilish grin, and I nod. He”s not wrong.
“Are you running from something or someone?” He doesn”t sound concerned. Just curious.
What do I have to lose by telling him the truth? Then again, I kind of just want to have fun and forget about everything. I lean in close to the guy. “Actually, I”m totally on the run from the cops right now.” I press my finger to my lips and he laughs.
“Cute and funny, you’re dangerous. I’m Jacks.” He offers his hand and I shake.
“Emma.”
“Cute name. What do you do for a living, Emma?”
“Why, you looking for a sugar momma?” I ask.
He laughs again. “No, it just seems like a good icebreaker.”
“I am... a librarian.” If the guy doesn”t get the reference, he”s not the guy for me.
“I love that,” he says. “Have you come here before?”
I shake my head no.
“Do you want to dance?”
A glance at him and hesitate. I don”t want to dance. But I don”t really want to talk either. “I think I”ve had a couple too many for that,” I say instead.
“And you’re honest. Triple threat lady.” He gestures at me with his cup as if saying cheers and I try not to be bored. There’s nothing about this guy that makes me want to continue talking to him. He’s boring and his intentions are far too obvious.
I want to get out of here. Coming out was a mistake. I just want to go back to my empty apartment, and I think the dead flowers would make better companions than this guy.
“I’m going to go,” I say, and he looks surprised.
“Already?”
I nod. I’m not leaving soon enough, in my opinion. With that, I leave the bar and head for the door. Pulling up my UBER app on my phone, I request a ride, well aware I’ve had too much to be safe behind the wheel.
Not even ten minutes later, I”m back in my apartment and pouring myself a glass of wine.
This is the only companion I need. Well, wine, snacks, and a comfort show. The world can eff off.