Chapter Sixteen
Jamie
Monday starts off well. I duck out for my interview—citing an appointment my boss doesn’t even bat an eye at—and do it online in a little café about fifteen minutes from the office.
It all goes swimmingly. It’s another executive assistant position, but this time to the CEO of Hartford Industries, Gideon Hartford.
He seems pleasant enough. Younger than I expected, but then he explained that his father passed a few years ago, and he’s taken the reins, and that means he’s just caught on that he needs someone to help out.
He’s got a quick smile, and the kind of posh accent that reminds me of Em, so I don’t really mind it.
I’m feeling optimistic by the time I get home, but then I realise Em and Patch have been on their date—are on their date?—and my mood plummets. Nick spends most of the evening out with his friends, and I go to bed early, not catching sight of Em at all.
Tuesday goes much the same way. Em isn’t around before I leave for work, and I don’t see him after. Don’t hear him, either. Maybe he went back to Patch’s house. Maybe they spent all day in bed and neither of them thought about me at all.
And then Wednesday… I wake late. I rush out and have to change my tie once I get to the office because it’s all wrinkled and I fucked up this week, double-booked my boss, but he doesn’t even get irritated like he would usually; he just gives me that sad, sympathetic expression he’s been giving me for months.
“Don’t worry about it, Jamie. I’ll rearrange it myself.”
I take myself for a break at eleven, heading up for the roof. It’s cold, and I’ve left my suit jacket on the back of my chair, but the wind wakes me up a little.
Maybe it would be time to move on regardless of what had happened to me in the past year. I’ve not been living with Nick all that long in the grand scheme of things, but I’ve lived in London my whole life. I’ve been in this job for seven years.
I sigh and look out across the city—or as much of it as I can see. It’s home. And maybe I’m getting bored with that. Outgrowing it.
I hope Em is there when I get home. If I talk to Nick about all this, he’ll brush a lot of it off.
Or he’ll take it seriously and make it a big deal.
Wanting to get a new job, move to a new place…
It’s a big change, but not a big deal. Em will get that, won’t he?
He’s just done the same thing, after all.
Maybe he’ll be too caught up in Patch to listen. Can’t blame him for that. I shove my hands into my trouser pockets, shivering a little, and try to be honest with myself when I pose the next question: Am I jealous of Em?
Fuck, am I jealous of Patch?
It doesn’t feel quite like that. I’ve been jealous before. Who hasn’t? Tim used to go out of his way to try to make me feel it, in the beginning, when I was so into him and hadn’t quite worked out the kind of person he was. Is. Whatever.
No, it’s not jealousy. It’s just… I feel left out. Like I’m supposed to be there with them. Both of them.
I shake my head and make my way back down to the office. My mind feels a little clearer and for the next couple of hours, I’m on top of everything, even getting a few of next week’s tasks lined up so I can knock them out by the end of the day.
My boss heads out for lunch at one, and it’s only when I’m standing in front of the fridge in the little kitchen on our floor that I realise I didn’t bring any food of my own.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Hannah, a woman from the HR department, makes a sympathetic sound from over by the kettle. “Forget lunch?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t matter. I’ll just have to pick something up.”
It’s annoying, though. I made extra rice and everything last night, really put some effort in because I knew a good lunch would boost my mood.
I even took it out of the fridge this morning, which means I won’t be able to eat it for dinner if it’s been sitting out all day.
And sure, there are nice things to buy around here, but I’m still disappointed I forgot, and it means I’m going to be out even more money.
I slip my jacket on and make my way over to the lift with a scowl. Fuck, I hope I get that job. I’m going to need it.
People get on at different floors and I’m so in my own head when we spill out into the lobby that I don’t even see him at first. I startle when someone grabs my arm, heart skipping a beat when I look up into Em’s face.
“Em? Jesus, what are you doing here?”
He smiles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He’s holding a tote bag in that hand, which almost hits him in the chest as he does it. Fuck, he’s adorable, and he looks a little sleepy, and he’s here…
A couple of people almost walk into us, so I drag him out of the way and over to the sofa he’s probably been waiting on. “How long have you been here?”
He shrugs. “Only fifteen minutes or so. I wasn’t sure when you’d go to lunch. I tried texting you, but your phone was off, and then I asked them to call up for you, but I couldn’t give them a floor and”—he blushes—“I couldn’t remember your surname, either. Sorry.”
“But why—I don’t get why you’re here?”
“Oh!” Em brandishes the tote bag at me. “Your lunch. I found it on the side when I got up this morning. Figured you’d want it, and since you weren’t answering your phone, I thought I’d bring it over.
Nick told me where you work. I guess I could have asked him about your name, but by then I was already here, so—”
I grab the front of his T-shirt and haul him down for a kiss.
I don’t mean to. Really, really, I don’t mean to.
I know he and Patch went on a date and presumably it went well because there was no denying the attraction between them on Saturday, and it’s not like I want Em to choose me over Patch or anything like that, but—
I kiss him anyway.
Em makes a surprised, muffled sound against my mouth, but he doesn’t go rigid, doesn’t push me away. His free hand slides around the back of my neck and fuck, his glasses must be all askew, but he kisses me back anyway.
I move my lips against his, breathing him in. I don’t want him to stop. Now that I’ve tasted him, I don’t know how I’ll ever go without again. This feels perfect. It feels right.
But Em does pull back, which is smart from the way we’re both breathing, and the reality of what I’ve just done hits me like a lorry. I scramble back, almost falling onto the sofa. Em reaches for me, but I flinch away. His face falls.
“Sorry, I—” I shake my head. “God, I’m sorry. I should never—”
“Jamie.” Em uses his firm voice, the one he used the day we first met, and my brain goes entirely silent. His eyes soften. “It’s okay. I liked it.”
“But you—You and Patch.”
“We went on our date, yeah,” Em says. “We’re going on another one next week.”
“Y-you are?”
“Yeah.”
I glance over. The receptionists are studiously not looking at us, so I grab Em’s hand and pull him out of the building. A shock of cold hits me, but I drag Em out of sight—around the corner, anyway—all the same.
“You kissed me back,” I say. My tone isn’t accusatory. I sound… helpless?
“I did.”
“Why?”
Em pulls a face this time. “I wanted to,” he says after a moment, eyes burning behind his glasses, and my stomach flips as I gasp. He wanted to. He wants to, by the way his gaze falls to my mouth again. “Sorry.”
“We shouldn’t—Oh God, Patch,” I mutter.
“I’ll tell him,” Em says quickly. “I mean, I’ll tell him—”
“It was me.”
“No.”
“It was, though. And I’m not trying… I really meant what I said, okay? I want you two to be happy with each other. I don’t want to take that away just because of whatever’s going on with me.”
“What is going on with you, Jamie?”
“What?”
“It’s not just me and Patch, is it?”
I sigh in defeat. “No.” I glance around, but I can’t see anyone from my office here. “I had an interview for a new job on Monday. It went well.”
Em smiles. “That’s great!”
“Not really. It’s not here. The job. I’d have to leave London.”
As suddenly as the smile appears, it falls, and the one Em consciously replaces it with is not nearly so bright or honest. “Is that what you want to do?”
“I think I have to. Or it’s time to. I don’t know. I don’t think I can stay here.”
“This will sound terribly conceited, but… It isn’t because of me, is it?”
I laugh despite myself, and Em’s shoulders immediately relax. “No, it’s not you. I applied a few weeks ago. Probably around when we got your rental application, I guess. I mean, I doubt I’ll even get it. Assistant to a CEO… It’s a step up.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I believe in you,” Em says, voice soft and honest. I want to kiss him again. He’d let me. He’d kiss me back. I want to kiss him and then turn my head and kiss Patch and—
Patch isn’t here. He’s not mine.
“Thanks,” I mutter. I need to go before I make a fool of myself some more. And I should be the one to tell Patch, really, but I’m not about to go behind Em’s back, so I’ll leave that conversation for later tonight. “Are you going to be in when I get back from work?”
“Yeah, of course. What do you want for dinner?”
“What?”
“You’re having a bad day, right? I mean, aside from—” He ducks his head and flushes a little and fucking hell I’m in deep. “Are you having a bad day?”
“Yeah, kinda. Until you arrived.”
“So text me what you want for dinner. I’ll make enough for Nick, too. I’ve been working nights, by the way. It’s not—I’ve not been avoiding you.”
“I didn’t think so. I thought the date went well.”
“It did,” Em says, in spite of himself, I think, then his eyes widen and he shoves his glasses up his nose. “I mean, we didn’t do anything. I went for a walk after. Wanted to think.”
I fight the urge to say that’s not what I meant because I don’t know how to feel about the fact that the date went well, but they didn’t spend the night together—it’s not at all my business, is it?
“Are you sure about that? Dinner, I mean?”
“Of course. Text me. Preferably something Nick doesn’t hate. Best if we don’t all have bad days today.”
I laugh and grab his hand before I can stop myself, squeezing once. “Thanks, Em.”
He squeezes back, then hands me the tote bag containing my lunch. “Not a problem, promise. See you tonight.”