Chapter Thirteen #2
She was right. My sister and I were probably the least relationship-savvy people in the bar.
No one was ever good enough for Meghan, and her eye tended to wander.
I had been burned one too many times by women who wanted to use me for their own gain.
And Wick…well, that was a whole separate can of worms.
My grip tightened on the bottle as I watched Callie and Hugh get up to leave. Their laughter cut through me like a knife, making my chest ache with jealousy.
“Fuck this,” I said, rising from our table.
“Emmett, wait!” Meghan called out. I ignored her, following Callie and Hugh out of the bar.
The chill night air did nothing to soothe the burning anger that had taken hold of me.
I watched Hugh open the car door for Callie, and I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face.
As they drove off, a sense of crumbling defeat settled over me.
She was avoiding me, but she went home with him.
I pulled out my phone to text Wick.
EMMETT
I’m leaving. Make sure Meghan gets home, okay? Don’t let her run off with some loser.
WICK
You got it. Take care of yourself, brother.
As I headed back to my apartment, my mind raced with questions and doubts. What could Callie possibly be thinking, going back to a guy like Hugh? Wasn’t it clear that he couldn’t give her what she needed? And what about us—didn’t our moment together mean anything to her?
I entered my apartment and slammed the door behind me, throwing my keys onto the counter. The silence of the room seemed to mock me, amplifying the emptiness that filled my chest. I poured myself a glass of whiskey and sank into the couch.
As I stared blankly at the wall, I couldn’t help replaying that kiss in my head.
The feel of her lips, the intoxicating scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body pressed against mine—it had all felt so perfect, so right.
But here I was, alone and miserable, while she was probably in bed with her ex.
“Damn it, Callie, what are you doing?” I ran a hand through my hair.
My thoughts were a chaotic mess. Part of me wanted to believe that she was confused, that she needed time to realize what she truly wanted.
But another part of me couldn’t help wondering if I was just fooling myself, chasing after a connection that didn’t exist.
I downed the rest of my whiskey and set the glass aside. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, through pushing Callie too fast, I might have lost her for good.
* * *
The next morning, my head throbbed with the remnants of last night’s bucket of beer and my whiskey nightcap, but my resolve to confront Callie hadn’t faded.
When I arrived at the office, I spotted her at her desk, engrossed in work as always.
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her eyes were focused intently on her screen.
“Callie,” I said, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart.
She looked up, startled. “Emmett, good morning. What can I help you with?” Too formal. Too serious.
I approached her cubicle. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk,” I said, aware of the curious glances from our coworkers.
On her first day here, I promised I wouldn’t let myself get distracted by this thing I felt for her. But here I was, drawing unnecessary attention to the both of us. Still, after last night, I had to say something.
“Emmett, please, not here,” Callie said, a hint of panic in her wide eyes.
“Fine,” I relented. “How about lunch, then?”
“Emmett, I don’t think—”
“Callie, please. It’s important.”
She stared at me, clearly weighing her options. “Alright, lunch it is.”
The next few hours went by interminably slowly.
When lunchtime rolled around, we left the office together, unspoken tension hanging between us.
As we walked to the small Italian bistro I had picked for lunch—I knew Callie loved pasta—I could tell she was nervous.
Her hands fidgeted, and she kept glancing at me.
The hostess gave me an appreciative head-to-toe scan before she even noticed Callie standing next to me. Callie didn’t miss her appraisal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her tense.
“Price,” I said. “I have a reservation for two.”
“Of course, Mr. Price. Right this way.”
The hostess showed us to our table, a booth tucked away in a quiet corner—I had given very specific instructions when I called that morning. I pulled out Callie’s chair before taking my own.
As we sat across from each other, the scent of garlic and freshly baked bread filling the air, I struggled to find the right words. She fiddled with her napkin, looking more vulnerable than I had ever seen her.
“Callie, I saw you last night with Hugh,” I said, unable to contain myself any longer.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You did?”
“Yes. And, well, I just need to know...why?”
“Emmett.” She sighed, her gaze falling to the table. “It’s really none of your business.”
My simmering jealousy boiled over. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? It’s none of my business?”
“Yes.”
“And what if I want it to be my business?”
Her head snapped up.
“Why him, Callie? After everything that’s happened between us?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I said, my voice tight with frustration.
She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hugh and I, we get together sometimes to…blow off some steam.” Her eyebrows lifted, hoping I would interpret what she wasn’t outright saying. She wasn’t getting off that easy.
“So…what? You guys go to the driving range and hit some balls?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Emmett, that’s exactly it.”
“Roll your eyes at me again, and I will bend you over this table and fuck you right here since you apparently need to ‘blow off some steam’ so badly.”
Those green eyes—eyes I’d frequently imagined staring into as she writhed underneath me—widened to a comical size. They held a mixture of surprise and something else. Heat, maybe even longing.
“Emmett, I...You’ve never… you can’t say things like that to me.”
“Why not? It’s what I wanted the night of the fundraiser. Although on that occasion, I’d probably have bent you over the fountain.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and she ducked her head.
“You’re my boss, Emmett. This job is important to me.
And Hugh is just…easy. Familiar. Right now, that’s all I need.
Between school, the internship, and my second job, I hardly have time to breathe, let alone get mixed up in some complicated… thing that derails my life.”
As much as I wanted to be angry, to demand that she choose me over Hugh, I couldn’t ignore the truth in her words. Her dedication to her ambitions was one of the things I admired most about her. It wasn’t fair to ask her to give that up.
I just kept nodding like an idiot, attempting to process her words. “Alright,” I said. “I understand. But where does that leave us?”
“Like I said.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. I watched her posture change, saw her steel herself. “You’re my boss. What happened on Valentine’s Day won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”
I slumped in my chair. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Callie. I’m the one that’s sorry.”
Here I was, jeopardizing this girl’s future because I had a crush. But it felt like more than a crush.
And the fact I was her boss didn’t really hold much weight. Half of our floor was either banging or in committed relationships with one another. As long as the right paperwork was completed and it didn’t affect the work, it wasn’t a big deal.
Hell, it was not being with her that had me so distracted.
But I understood Callie’s perspective. In the traditional corporate world, a relationship between us would be frowned upon. She didn’t want to carry that stigma through the rest of her career. Plus, it didn’t help that I was the CEO’s son.
I understood, but I didn’t have to like it.
“Strictly business from here on out,” I said, offering her a strained smile. Her returning smile was a combination of relief and disappointment, but I was at a loss. All I could do was respect her wishes. Put her first.
Even if I damned myself in the process.