28. Marcus
28
MARCUS
W hat kind of man was I? The woman I claimed to be developing feelings for had been gone for over a week before I even noticed. That did not bode well for me. Certainly, it wouldn’t be a good selling point the next time I ran into her.
She would have every right to point out that I was an idiot because I was incapable of picking up a phone and calling her or sending her a text message. I had multiple means of communication available to me. If I wasn’t taking advantage of them, that was purely my fault.
So when she didn’t respond to my initial text messages or answer the phone, I pretty much only had myself to blame. And using Lily as an excuse? That was a cowardly thing to do. She had nothing to do with the fact that I hadn’t reached out to Emma in a timely fashion. It was time to suck up my ego.
I checked my phone again. No response. My message was left on read.
How was I supposed to get a hold of Emma to let her know I was sorry if she blocked me? It seemed excessive. Maybe I should have been more understanding. After all, the administration and her ex, Kevin, had really been out to destroy her career.
I wanted her to understand that I felt like my hands were tied between Lily and the not-quite threat from James Collins. I believed her when she said Kevin was out to cause problems for her professionally, and I wanted her to know that I would stand by her and be in her corner, even though I had done a poor job of showing that lately.
I wanted her to know just how much I truly missed her presence in my life, something I didn’t think was going to happen. She needed to know how much I truly missed her, cared for her—something I honestly never thought would happen again after I lost Blair.
Emma was important to me, and I desperately needed to let her know this. So no matter what my daughter tried to do, it was my responsibility to acknowledge and correct the situation. If she wouldn’t answer my calls, maybe she would at least talk to me if I showed up on her doorstep? I had so much to atone for.
I called Jason, having taken Lily’s phone away from her as punishment. “Just want to let you know you and your sister are on your own for dinner tonight. I have to do something after work.”
“Can we get pizza?” Jason asked.
“No pizza,” I said. “There’s food at home, and you have plenty of time to make it.”
I heard his disappointed groan through the phone. “Well, what are you doing for dinner?” he asked.
“I will be having dinner with a colleague,” I said hopefully.
“Are you going to see Dr. Emma?” he asked cheerfully.
“I don’t know,” I said. “This is kind of like a… I don’t know if she’ll be there.”
“If she is, say hi for me.”
“I will,” I said. I certainly hoped I would be.
If all went well, I would be having dinner with Emma. And if it went really well, I’d be staying late.
I stepped into the lobby of Emma’s apartment. “I’m here for Emma Chen,” I mentioned to the doorman.
“Oh, right, yeah,” he said. “You can head on up.”
I knew he wasn’t going to announce me—it wasn’t that kind of building. But something seemed a little off. When I got to Emma’s apartment, the door was open, a stack of moving boxes was piled just outside the door, and a woman in an expensive designer suit stood tapping her foot as she leaned against the door jamb.
“How much longer are you going to take?” she said to the air.
“Excuse me?” I asked as I approached the door.
She looked up. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m here to see Dr. Chen,” I said.
“Another one?” She sighed. “She didn’t tell me about you. If you need to get your stuff, just go on in and grab it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked.
She started speaking slowly, enunciating each word carefully. Something I was starting to notice… whenever I had questions about Emma, people tended to talk to me like I was some kind of idiot.
“She hadn’t told me there would be more than one of you. Go on in and get your stuff. I can’t be here all day.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked as I stepped into the apartment. “And who do you think I am?”
She pursed her lips and tried to hide an eye roll, rather unsuccessfully. “You are one of her exes here to pick up his stuff.”
Well, I didn’t think whatever had developed between us had been enough for me to qualify as an ex, but it still hurt to hear myself referred to that way.
A deep, throaty chuckle came from inside the apartment. “She went to L.A., man. She didn’t tell you either, huh?”
I looked up and saw Kevin Thompson.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped.
“I’m the ex with belongings here, and you are just the chump she was seeing to get back at me with.”
I growled. “I am not a chump. Where’s Emma?
Kevin laughed again, as if this were all a good joke. “Oh, I have it on good authority that she has left the building, as it were. She’s moved to L.A.”
Kevin stepped up to where I stood with the leasing agent. “This is everything. I doubt this chump has anything here.”
“Good. It’s about time. You took long enough,” she said.
Kevin added the box in his arms to the stack in the hallway.
“You sure you don’t have anything in there?” She looked at me warily.
“Nothing,” I admitted.
“Can we get moving?” She indicated with a wave of her hand that she wanted us out of the apartment.
I stepped out first, followed by Kevin with another box. The woman stepped out last and locked the door behind her.
“What have you done to Emma?” I confronted Kevin.
“You should be thanking me,” he said, “for getting Emma out of our hair. That woman had delusions of grandeur, thinking that one day, she would be running an emergency department.”
“Delusions of grandeur? Is that what you thought this was all about?” I asked. “Emma should be running an emergency department. She’s brilliant, level-headed, and exactly the kind of person you want in an emergency.”
“She was an interfering know-it-all, trying to tell us all what to do. Trust me, it is better this way.”
“She was far from interfering.” I clenched my fists.
Kevin sneered. “She was out to ruin my career, and you should be thanking me for getting rid of her before she managed to ruin yours.”
“Never speak of Emma that way again,” I growled. “And if I find out you have so much as bad-mouthed her, I will find you, and it will be more than just your face shoved into the floor.”
“That’s a stupid threat,” Kevin spat. “You aren’t some tough guy from an action movie. You don’t know who you’re messing with,” he said.
I glowered at him. “I don’t care.” I just wanted him to walk away.
“I’m on the review board at your hospital.”
“Do I look like I care?”
I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to quell the anger surging through my chest. No, I wasn’t some tough guy from the movies. Threats were stupid, anyway. Why not just take action?
I had spent years as a combat surgeon, which meant I had trained with soldiers and fighting experts. I knew how to fight. Not only could I defend myself, but I knew how to take down an enemy. And right now, every cell in my body screamed that the man in front of me was my enemy.
Kevin snorted. “You think you’re tough? Some kind of Karate expert?” He scoffed. “You don’t want to fight me.” Kevin curled his fists in a standard boxing stance.
“Step away. You wouldn’t like the results if you tried that,” I muttered.
There was a reason martial arts experts were portrayed that way in movies—because true fighters didn’t want to engage unless absolutely necessary. And I was trained to take no quarter. I was trained to put a man down.
Kevin started to pounce on the balls of his feet like a boxer, his fists in position by his chin.
“Really?” I asked, unimpressed.
I shook my head and turned to walk away, but he swung.
His arm pulled back, telegraphing the punch so far in advance that it moved like a slow-motion film. I didn’t even have to think. I simply stepped aside, letting his fist fly past. As he overbalanced, I caught his other shoulder, drove my knee into his back, and slammed him down onto the concrete floor.
As I pressed his face into the cold ground, I snarled, “If I ever?—”
I stopped myself. He wasn’t worth it.
I stood, turned, and walked away, pushing through the exit to the stairwell. As the door swung shut behind me, I heard Kevin groan and the elevator ding.