17. Emzee
EMZEECHAPTER 17
I didn’t stay long in Chicago.
As much as I wanted to spend time with my family and my newborn niece, I had restarted my life in New York and I couldn’t just abandon that as well.
After one more day visiting with my brothers and sisters-in-law at the hospital, I hurried back to New York—to the city, to my job at lookingglass , to Munchkin.
At least my dog still loved me.
I had thought that throwing myself into the new life I’d built would be enough to keep my mind off everything.
The daily hustle of the magazine and my photographs and Munchkin’s pupcakes.
All the things that used to distract me and make me feel fulfilled.
But as it turned out, I couldn’t outrun my conscience.
And I couldn’t erase the memory of Ford’s face when he found out that I was pregnant, and that I’d hidden it from him.
I felt like a villain.
After spending so many nights blaming him for everything that had gone wrong in my life, I was now grappling with the fact that I had become the bad guy in his life.
It wasn’t just the morning sickness that was making me nauseous these days.
Even if my big plan to hide the baby’s parentage had gone off without a hitch, I’d been planning to make choices that were bound to hurt him.
In addition to the ones I’d already made.
When I initially fled Chicago, I’d been certain I was doing the right thing for everybody: myself, the baby, Ford, the entire Zoric family.
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Because long before I started blaming Ford for betraying me, I had loved him.
Without reservation.
In fact, if someone had asked me a year ago if there was anything Ford could do to shake my loyalty, I would have said no.
Not a chance. But that was before I found out just how much he was hiding from me.
And yet. Even after everything he’d put me through, there was no doubt in my mind that I still loved him.
God, what had I been thinking?
Did I really think he wouldn’t ever find out the baby was his?
Or had part of me secretly hoped that he would, and that he’d end up being the one person in my life that I couldn’t push away or hide from?
Was it some kind of test I’d sprung on him unawares that I was subconsciously hoping he’d pass?
Truly, if there was a Zoric family curse, it was fucking up with the people they claimed to love.
I’d messed things up with Ford in so many ways.
There was only one thing to do—come clean.
About everything. Including the Bratva and my deal with his parents.
As hard as it was going to be, the thought of getting everything off my chest was a huge relief.
The last time I’d seen Ford, outside my doctor’s office in Chicago, he’d said that we would figure things out together, and to let him know when I was back in Brooklyn.
I didn’t know if he’d meant figuring out the marriage or just having some real talk about the divorce and the custody of our eventual child, but when he’d walked away from me, he’d been holding back a lot of hurt and anger.
I knew him well enough to be certain of that.
He’d also said that he needed some space, which was part of the reason why I’d been avoiding him since my return to NYC.
Of course he’d needed to process, and stew, and think it all over.
I had, too.
But now it was time to face him.
My mind was made up.
I’d go straight to his place after work.
He’d given me a key to his apartment last month, so I’d just let myself in and wait for him if he wasn’t there.
I’d camp out on the couch and make him listen, refuse to leave until he heard me out.
I’d insist we be fully honest with each other and figure everything out once and for all.
Together. For better or worse.
I’d show Ford I could be just as stubborn as he could.
After dropping Munchkin off at my place, I popped back out to the hipster liquor store up the street to pick up some grapefruit Perrier for me and a bottle of Ford’s favorite bourbon, since a little well-meaning bribery never hurt anybody.
When I got to his apartment, I went over to the bar immediately, first pouring myself some water to calm my stomach and then setting the Pappy Van Winkle next to the almost finished bottle already there.
I had just settled onto the couch when I heard a voice coming from the other room.
Toward the back of the apartment.
It was a woman’s voice.
“Back so soon?”
The last time I’d been over, we hadn’t left the living room area.
I’d never seen the rest of his place, but I had a sense that the voice was coming from where the bedroom was.
My stomach turned as I moved through Ford’s apartment, feeling like an interloper, afraid of what—or who—I would find.
Following the direction of the voice, I found Ford’s bedroom—along with the person I wanted to see least in the world.
Claudia.
In Ford’s bed.
In lingerie.
I froze in the doorway, words escaping me.
The shock and upset made my mind go blank, just like it always did, just like back in high school whenever I was harassed or catcalled or cornered by mean girls with sharp tongues who were exactly like Claudia and her friends.
Our eyes met, and for once, Claudia didn’t say anything either.
Not that she had to.
It was clear to both of us that she’d already won.
Claudia sat up straighter on the bed, her sculpted body barely contained by the pale pink lace lingerie she was wearing.
Her lips curved into a mean little smile, and she tossed her long blonde hair back.
With that smile, I was completely undone.
I ran.
Flinging open the front door, I found Ford standing there, key in his hand.
Of course I had to bump into him on my way out.
As if I could ever manage a clean getaway when Ford Malone was involved.
“Emzee,” he said, sounding pleasantly surprised.
“ You ,” I replied, practically spitting the word.
My eyes were tearing up, still burning with the image of Claudia sprawled across his sheets, that cruel, gloating smile of hers.
A smile I knew all too well.
I didn’t care that Ford looked glad to see me—it was too little, too late for that.
When he’d said he needed space, cheating on me with his vile ex-girlfriend was the last thing I imagined he needed that space for.
At least I no longer felt guilty about what I’d done to him.
As far as I was concerned, Ford’s actions only proved that I had made the right choice when I’d run away from Chicago.
That not telling him about the baby, and yes, even forging his signature so we could get divorced, had been the right thing.
I didn’t feel bad about any of it anymore, because Ford had just proven, without a doubt, that I couldn’t trust him.
All those sweet words about being in love with me and wanting us to be together and being unable to let me go, they had all been just that—words.
Lies .
Ford didn’t want me.
Not really. He only ever wanted what he couldn’t have, and so the second he was certain I’d make myself available to him again, just like I always had, he’d run right back into Claudia’s arms.
All my guilt over what I’d done evaporated completely.
Ford’s expression of happiness morphed into confusion as I pushed past him and stormed into the hallway.
“Em?”
I turned around.
“Fuck you,” I said, my voice cold as ice.
“We’re done. We can fight about custody in court.”