6. Ford
FORDCHAPTER 6
“ M r. Malone? Mr. Malone? Um…Ford?”
I whipped up my head, realizing I’d been zoning out and that my coffee had long gone cold.
Mareena, one of the new paid interns that Malone Real Estate Holdings had hired from Emzee’s charity, was standing in the doorway of my office.
“Sorry. How’s it going, Mareena?”
She’d been assisting the commercial real estate photographer we had on staff, and the feedback I’d gotten was that we should strongly consider making Mareena a full-time job offer once the term of her internship was up.
The photography lessons Emzee offered through See Yourself had set up Mareena perfectly for a new career.
If she wanted one, that was.
“Miss Evans wanted to know if you’d finished up with the commercial lease on the Gold Coast property,” Mareena said.
“She said the client is getting antsy.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my desk, where the redlined document was still sitting there, unfinished and waiting to be typed up.
“Can you let her know I need more time? I’m still going over some of the terms. I’ll get it to her this afternoon and then she can fax it over.”
“Sure.” She hesitated, looking a little concerned.
“Do you need anything? Everybody been treating you okay?” I tried to pay extra close attention to the interns we brought on from See Yourself.
Knowing they’d been treated so poorly in the past made me overprotective.
I wanted them to feel safe, and confident.
Ready to succeed.
Mareena smiled, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.
A move that reminded me of my wife.
“Everyone’s been great. You just look…I don’t know, stressed. Distracted. Is it the lease you’re working on? Something I can help with?”
This was exactly why Mareena was such an asset to MREH.
No matter what needed doing, she was always eager to jump in and assist. That kind of attitude was what made our team so strong.
It hadn’t always been that way, but with my father mostly-retired, I’d taken the helm more frequently.
And when I hired someone new, I didn’t look for the pedigree of an Ivy League education or years of experience in real estate.
I looked for candidates with keen minds, a willingness to learn, and the ability to stay on top of things even on our most chaotic days.
“I’ve got this,” I said, forcing a smile.
“I just have a lot on my plate at the moment. Nothing I can’t handle, though. I’ll give a shout if I need a hand.”
“Okay. Well, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Mareena.”
The second she turned around, my smile dropped.
I wasn’t just stressed, I was utterly wrecked.
All I could think about was Emzee.
It had been over a week since I’d last seen my wife, after See Yourself’s fundraiser.
She wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, wouldn’t come to the door when I stopped by Stefan’s to try to see her.
Hell, I missed Munchkin too.
Our little family had been torn apart, and I knew it was all my fault.
I should have come clean to Emzee years ago.
Now I was paying for it.
I’d hardly slept in days.
My productivity at work had gone to shit.
And if Mareena was noticing it, everyone else had to be, too.
Especially with Miss Evans—my sweet, nearly-retired executive assistant—now keeping tabs on my to-do list. Her usual job functions were answering my phone, scheduling my calendar, and making sure the kitchen was fully stocked.
My zombie-like state must have given her the impression that I needed supervision.
And maybe I did.
Midway through going over the lease’s arbitration exclusions, I realized I’d lost my train of thought again.
I couldn’t focus like this.
My mind was elsewhere.
There was nothing I could do to get Emzee to talk to me and it was driving me crazy.
I needed her to forgive me, to give me another chance.
To give us another chance.
Suddenly, I had an idea.
I’d send her a gift.
Minimizing the lease agreement, I opened up a browser window on my computer and started browsing reviews and photos for local florists.
Maybe flowers were cliché, but I needed to do something to show Emzee that I was sorry.
It seemed like a good place to start.
I’d probably have to call around to see if anyone could get black orchids on short notice, but—and then I started second-guessing myself.
Maybe flowers weren’t the way to go at all.
Jewelry might be better.
It’d definitely last longer.
Em wasn’t one for lots of flashy accessories, but she appreciated beautiful things.
I’d bet anything that she’d love a vintage piece, or something made by a local artist, if it was minimalist and elegant.
Subtle enough to wear every day.
I was browsing the Ivy and Rose website when I heard a commotion outside my office.
“You can’t see Mr. Malone without making an appointment,” Miss Evans was saying, sounding fretful.
“I’m sorry, but he’s very busy, and we don’t offer walk-ins.”
“I need to talk to him,” a guy coaxed.
“It won’t take long. Just give me two minutes.”
I got up and leaned out of my office door to see what was going on.
I didn’t recognize the man, but he wore a nice suit and carried a briefcase, and he certainly didn’t look dangerous.
What if he was from a messenger service?
Could he have been sent by Emzee?
“You can’t just go back there,” Miss Evans argued.
“I’ll call security.”
Rushing to the main reception desk, I said, “Thank you, Miss Evans. I’ll handle it.”
“You’re Ford Malone?” the guy asked.
“I am,” I said. “Did Mara Zoric send you?”
“More or less. She wanted me to give this to you,” the man in the suit said, handing over a thick envelope.
“You’ve been served.”
“I’ve—wait, what?”
Adrenaline rushing, I ripped open the envelope.
There were divorce papers inside.
When I looked up, I saw that the man—the process server—had already left.
“Mr. Malone?” Miss Evans was saying.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Her voice sounded a million miles away.
My ears were ringing, my stomach was churning.
I stood there, speechless and numb, eyes blurring as I skimmed through the pages.
My emotions were growing more and more frantic with each word.
I wanted to tear the whole thing up.
Set it on fire. Send it through the shredder and then shred it again.
On the final page was a small, neon green arrow sticker that said “Sign here.”
Like hell was I signing.
“Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day,” I told Miss Evans.
“Of course. But the lease agreement?—”
“Mareena can finish typing up the changes,” I said, cutting her off.
“All the redlines are on the doc. I’ll drop it with her on my way out.”
What the fuck was happening?
Emzee couldn’t just dump me and run.
I had to get to Stefan’s, and fast.
When I arrived at my brother-in-law’s place, I rang the bell, pacing in the hall.
But of course when Stefan opened the door, he wouldn’t let me inside.
We’d done this dance before, but this time I wasn’t going to give up.
“I need to see Emzee,” I said.
“Please.”
“She doesn’t want to see you,” he told me.
“Sorry, man.”
He started to close the door, but I stuck my foot in the jamb.
“Look, I’m not going anywhere until I talk to her,” I told him.
“I mean it. I’ll stay out here as long as I have to.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
“Sleep in the hall if you want. But you’re not seeing my sister until she’s ready to see you. And if that’s never, well, tough shit.”
“She’s my wife,” I said, my voice getting louder.
I wasn’t above causing a scene.
Stefan and I eyed each other.
We were both stubborn men.
Strong, too. I didn’t know if I could take him in a fight if it came to that, but I’d at least go out swinging.
“Don’t make me call building security,” Stefan said, taking his phone out.
“They’re not gonna be as nice as I am.”
Behind him, a familiar voice said, “Stefan. Wait.”
It was Emzee.
Stefan turned away from me, my wife still hidden behind the door.
I still had my foot in the doorway and I knew that I could force my way inside.
But I waited. Took a deep breath.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said.
He frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I heard Emzee say.
“It will be the last time.”
I couldn’t believe it.
It made me sick to hear her say the words, but I didn’t argue.
A second later she stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her.
Obviously I wasn’t going to get invited inside.
But it hardly mattered.
All I cared about was Em.
She looked exhausted.
I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and take her home.
Draw her a bath, put her to bed, make her the green tea she liked.
Take care of her.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
She wouldn’t even look at me.
“The last time?” I repeated.
“Please, Em. Let’s figure things out. I’m not signing this.”
I held up the divorce papers, shaking my head.
Still bewildered by all of it.
“It’s what I want,” she said firmly.
“We can’t be over because of something that happened almost a decade ago. Can we talk about it?” I asked, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
“No. What’s done is done. Nothing you can say will change what you did, and you can’t take back all the years you lied to me. Do you realize that every important man in my life has lied to me? My father, my brothers, and now you. All of you thought you were protecting me by keeping secrets about the trafficking! Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? Knowing I just walked around oblivious to it all, and meanwhile lives were getting destroyed? You should be ashamed! And I know if it wasn’t for Claudia, you would have just kept on lying!”
Breathing hard from her rant, she met my gaze.
My stomach clenched with guilt and regret and shame.
She was right. Her whole life she’d been lied to by men.
I was no exception.
“How can this be it? I fucked up, Em, I admit that, but—I love you . I know you love me.”
She was looking at the floor again, her expression hard and flat.
I’d never seen this side of her before.
It wasn’t that we hadn’t fought before, of course we had, but she’d always forgiven me.
I’d always been able to lay on the charm and convince her to do things my way.
“You seriously want to throw away everything we have? Everything we could be? Let me make it up to you. Let me show you that I’m not the person I used to be, that I can?—”
“Shut up .” Her voice was sharp and a little bit nasty.
“I’m not doing this with you. Everything you say is a lie. Our entire relationship is a lie.”
“But it’s not. You’re my wife .”
“The marriage isn’t real, Ford!” she said.
“This whole thing was just an easy way for you to get out of marrying Claudia because you couldn’t stand up to your parents. You never cared about me, you just needed me to play my part. The stupid thing is that even though I knew it was all fake, I actually thought our friendship was real. Now I know better.”
“Our friendship was real. Is real,” I argued.
“Jesus. You’re my best friend.”
“Honestly, Ford? That’s really kind of pathetic. I almost feel sorry for you.”
Then she laughed, right in my face.
It stung. She’d never treated me like this before.
Had never been so unmovable, so dismissive.
“It’s over,” she said.
“The sooner you realize it, the easier it will be for both of us.”
“Emzee, please. I need you. I fucking love you. Please, don’t do this?—”
Before I could say more, she turned on her heel and went back inside, slamming the door in my face.
Leaving me begging in the hallway, practically on my knees.
Fuck.
Back in my car, head in my hands, I tried to get my breathing under control.
The world was spinning out of control, taking my stomach with it.
How could this be happening?
I knew I deserved her wrath, knew that I’d royally fucked up, but she wasn’t giving me a chance to explain.
I’d kept secrets from her, yes, but I’d had good intentions.
Because if I had tried to tell her why I’d started those rumors at Wayland-Blaine, why I’d targeted her in the first place, I would have had to admit that it was because my father had been a client of her father’s prostitution ring.
And the reason I never told her about KZ Modeling’s illicit underbelly was because I thought it was better if she didn’t know.
Safer. Hell, finding out about my own parents’ issues is what fucked me up so badly in the first place.
I didn’t want that for her.
But trying to protect Emzee had only made her more vulnerable.
And it was me who had ended up hurting her.
I’d been the one to do the most damage.
I’d gone about things all wrong.
I could see that now, in hindsight.
I could also see exactly why she wanted to be done with me.
But I wasn’t done with her.
Emzee was my world. And that little dog of hers, too.
So I was going to have to start over, then.
Figure out a way to win her back.
I’d never been one to give up on something—or someone—that really mattered to me, and I wasn’t about to start.
I’d fight for the woman I loved, and I’d fucking win.
Or else I’d die trying.