8. Ford
FORDCHAPTER 8
I could tell Emzee was shocked to see me standing there.
She was still sitting in her chair, mouth slightly open.
Meanwhile, Munchkin had jumped off her lap and raced over to me.
He was at my feet, looking up expectantly.
At least someone was glad I was there.
“Hi,” I said to my wife.
God, she was beautiful.
Seeing her face was like reaching the surface after half drowning in the ocean, and getting that first oxygen-laced lungful of fresh air.
I crouched down to pet our dog, trying to hide my emotion.
“Hey, pup. You missed me? Yeah?”
My one-sided conversation with the dog seemed to snap Emzee back to reality.
She stood up, arms crossed, narrowing her eyes at me.
“You shouldn’t have shown up here like this,” she said.
“Em—” I got to my feet, but she put a hand out, stopping me from coming any closer.
“If you don’t go, I’ll have you escorted out of the building by security,” she threatened.
“I need to talk to you.”
She was shaking her head at me, looking as pissed as I’d ever seen her.
“This is completely unprofessional. God, I can’t believe you’re bringing this drama to my new job.”
“ Me bring the drama?” Was she serious?
I wasn’t the one who’d picked up and moved to another city to start a new job without so much as mentioning it to my spouse.
If anyone had acted dramatically, it had been her—but I wasn’t going to bring that up.
I was trying to win her back, not pick a fight.
“We’re not doing this, Ford. I’m calling the front desk.”
She leaned over her desk and grabbed the receiver of an office landline phone, already pushing a button on the console.
“Okay, okay. I’ll leave,” I said, backing up.
“For now.”
Emzee kept the phone in her hand, watching me.
“Go. I’m waiting.”
Her voice was as cold as I remembered it being the last time I’d seen her.
Like I meant less than nothing to her.
Which couldn’t be true—I just didn’t believe it.
Not after everything we’d been through over the last seven years.
Though when I found out she’d uprooted her entire life to move to New York, it had been a sobering moment.
Still, I had hope.
Without another word, I turned and left.
Not that I was giving up.
Far from it. Instead, I got a coffee from a little industrial style café a few doors down.
Then I sat myself on a bench outside her building, which is where I was waiting when she finally walked out of the lobby a little while later.
Munchkin was straining at his leash trying to get to me, and Emzee let out a frustrated sigh as the two of them came over.
“This is what’s known as stalking,” she said.
“I don’t want you showing up here again, or at my apartment, or anywhere near me. I’ll get a restraining order if I have to.”
I shrugged.
“I’m not signing those papers until we at least have a discussion. That’s all I’m asking. You owe me that much at least.” I searched her eyes, looking for a hint of softness, but didn’t find any.
“Honestly, I don’t owe you anything, but fine. The café?” she asked, pointing toward the place where I’d just gotten my coffee.
She’d finally given in.
She must have really wanted those papers signed, our marriage over and done with as soon as possible.
“Let’s go to my place,” I suggested.
“It’s in Brooklyn. I’ll get a car.”
Her brows shot up.
“You have a place here?”
“Yup.” I expertly hailed us a cab, promising the driver I’d pay extra if Munchkin made any kind of mess in the back seat.
As I directed the driver to go east over the bridge, I watched Emzee’s expression from the corner of my eye.
She was looking more and more on edge the closer we got to my address in Williamsburg.
When the cab pulled to the curb to drop us off, she turned to me with a look of shock.
“This is my building,” she said.
“It’s my building, too,” I told her as we got out.
“ You got an apartment in my building? ”
I nodded.
“I’m in the process of buying the whole building, actually. By the way, you don’t have to pay rent anymore.”
She snapped her mouth closed and stalked into the lobby, refusing to acknowledge me even as we got in the elevator and I pushed the button for the top floor.
It wasn’t until we were inside, Munchkin off his leash and the door closed and locked, that she dropped her bags and laid into me, her expression livid.
“How dare you invade my space like this!” she raged.
“How dare you chase me all the way here, when I couldn’t have made it clearer that I want this to be over? Please, just sign the divorce papers and leave me alone.”
Munchkin had been sniffing around the place, but at the sound of Emzee’s outburst, he had run over to cower behind my legs.
I picked him up, patting his back as he panted anxiously.
That only seemed to make Emzee more furious.
“Even my dog is betraying me!” she yelled.
“He knows that I’m sorry,” I said.
She ignored me, reaching for Munchkin.
I let her take him, watching her turn away and walk toward the windows in the living room as she clutched him to her chest.
“Do you have any idea,” she said, her back to me, “how hard you’re making it for me to get over you?”
My heart nearly stopped.
I turned her words over in my mind a few times, just to make sure I understood what she was saying.
Then I crossed the room to stand closer to her.
“Then don’t get over me,” I pleaded, staying far enough away to not crowd her.
The last thing I wanted was to invade her space, or do anything that would have her throwing all her defenses up again.
This was my opening, as tiny as it was, and I was taking it.
She’d just admitted that she still had feelings for me.
“Why are you fighting me so hard, Em?”
Finally she set the dog down and turned to look at me, her eyes stormy and edged with tears.
I stepped closer, knowing that this was my moment.
That if I could just kiss her, I could get her to remember what we had together.
I lowered my head, and she lifted hers.
Our gazes locked. Time stopped.
The chemistry between us was unmistakable, the familiar, magnetic pull almost palpable.
But when I’d gotten close enough to feel her breath on my lips, she gasped and pushed me away.
Like she’d suddenly come to her senses and realized what was about to happen.
The spell was broken.
“I’m leaving,” she said, scooping up Munchkin.
She grabbed the bags she’d left at the door and walked out of my apartment.
I ran after her, watching her stride down the hall toward the elevator.
The doors slid open, and just as she was about to step in, I called out to her.
“I’m still not signing the papers, Em,” I said.