Chapter 24
JACK
While I rush through the light traffic, the sick knot of tension in my gut tightens.
The anger dissolves with every mile I drive, replaced with annoyance.
How could I not have realized it was her?
Was I so wrapped up in her brightness that it blinded me to the truth?
I arrive at her apartment building, park almost in front and ring the doorbell but there’s no answer.
I decide to wait for a few minutes, hopeful that I beat the Uber she took.
I’m not leaving without an explanation. I want to at least have all the facts before I terminate our contract.
The last sentence has more implications than she knows. I trusted Emmeline to be different, to be transparent and open.
My skin prickles at the tension and the confusion. Restless, I pace the perimeter of the building back and forth like a caged animal trying to decide if I should hide, attack, or trust.
JSpear84: Why did you trust this guy?
AWalk90: We had a connection. Call me crazy, but I felt like I could trust him, too. He fed me the same line. He’s been so patient and caring. But he exploded too quickly over something that doesn’t even affect him. I know his kind. They pretend to be nice, and once you trust them, they burn you.
Did I really come across as explosive? Does this mean she truly has no idea who I am? I’m confused as fuck. What do I do now? I take a moment to reflect on the past couple of months. My two options are either to walk away and count my losses or to try to understand what’s happening between us.
JSpear84: Maybe this is all a misunderstanding?
AWalk90: You don’t have to worry about me, okay?
JSpear84: Message me if you need to talk.
AWalk90: Thank you, knowing you trust me lifts a heavy weight off my shoulders.
I’m right outside her building when she steps out of the Uber. She’s smiling at her phone. Her shoulders seem a bit more relaxed than earlier today.
“Can we talk?” I ask keeping my voice steady.
“It’d be best if you lose my number,” she speaks each word with composure and professionalism.
“We had a fight,” I offer. “There’s obviously something we have to discuss.”
Like figuring out who you are, Emmeline or Amy?
“Clearly, it wasn’t just a fight,” she says firmly. “I think it’s best if I walk away tonight.”
“Do you think it’s easy for me to trust others?” I ask. My tongue feels too thick to form the words, but I ask, “How do I know you’re not playing me?”
She blinks a couple of times and frowns.
“Why in the world would I play you?”
“My ex-wife did for a long time.” I blurt it so loudly that people walking along the sidewalk turn to stare at us.
“Look, obviously you have some unresolved issues with your wife,” she says. “Who knows what happened between you, since there are always two sides to a story.”
“We met through mutual friends. She was social, and smart. I was impressed by her beauty. You can’t blame me, I was twenty-five.
Life went by, she became convenient,” I say and flinch.
“It makes me sound cold, but it was nice not to have to think about dating. Work was absorbing me and, before you know it, she gave me an ultimatum. So, I agreed to marry her.”
“Romantic,” she says and can’t control the snort.
“It wasn’t until later that I realized she was using me. Maybe I was using her too. Things ended so badly I moved to Denver to restart my life—privately. Like you, I don’t put myself out there.”
She narrows her gaze and asks, “Did you ever hit her?”
I shake my head. “Never, not even when she did this.” I show her the scar Vivian left when she scratched my neck.
“Why would she do that?”
Leave it to this woman to want to know all the facts.
“When the divorce was finalized, she didn’t get a penny out of me, and she was ordered to repay the money she took from me,” I say vaguely. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me about how I lost my first company.
“She was stealing from you?”
“Yes,” I answer.
She shakes her head. “I don’t understand why you’re relating her to what happened in the restaurant.”
With a loud exhale, she pulls out the keys of her purse and says, “Maybe we should continue this conversation upstairs.”
I follow her, and right as she shuts the apartment door behind me, she asks: “Do we look alike, me and her?”
Well, damn it, she cuts right to the chase.
I inspect the living room as I try to figure out how to answer.
They don’t look alike. Not at all. Vivian was tall, thin, her body was angular, and her face was made up all the time.
There was nothing vulnerable about her. She didn’t have the honest eyes or the bright smile that Emmeline gives me every time I’m around her.
This little apartment is just like Em. Cozy and warm.
The antique couches go perfectly with the coffee table she renovated last year.
There’s a lot of history in here that she’s accumulated.
She doesn’t hide anything but herself between these walls.
I just can’t understand why she pretends to be another person while doing her work.
“Not at all. Look, something triggered the memory of my life with her,” I say. “It was painful. I didn’t have a moment to myself. She exposed our lives from the beginning to the bitter end. We never had a moment of privacy.”
She holds her head and shakes it.
“Sounds like a bad relationship and a hell of a divorce,” she says. “You should work through that before you jump into a relationship.”
I have worked on it, and then, here you are playing me. Are you playing me?
I study her slumped shoulders and absent look. If she had figured out who I was, this wouldn’t be the conversation. She’d be dancing like a football player after scoring a touchdown. Fucking, Vivian, she did a number on me. I have to give Emmeline the benefit of the doubt.
“Look, I’d never do anything to hurt you or your company,” I say and mean it. “There’s something special about you.”
“Let me ask you something.” She sits on the couch, pulls her legs into her torso and hugs them.
I realize she’s not wearing shoes anymore and I can admire her beautiful feet. Today, her toenails are dark green, and she’s got a ring on her pinkie toe.
“If you’re still dealing with your divorce, why even date?” she asks.
I pace back and forth before stopping by the couch and taking a seat right next to her.
“You’re not the rebound,” I protest.
“When was the last time you dated or hooked up with someone?”
“I haven’t dated since,” I murmured. “Hooked up with someone the weekend between Christmas and New Year’s Eve.”
“You’re not over the hurt. I’m nothing like her, so that’s why you’re drawn to me—but—in the long run, it won’t fulfill what you’re looking for.”
She brushes her hair to the side and crisscrosses her legs.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, assuming this is the person who I banter with every day. “You can judge what happened earlier, but until you have all the elements, you can’t draw a conclusion.”
“What are you not telling me?”
“I’m nine years older than the stupid kid who fell for a shell,” I argue with her. “You can’t compare him to me. If you asked me what I’d have done if we’d met nine years ago, I don’t have an answer for that.”
And I’m not sure if I’m telling that to Amy Walker or if I’m telling that to Emmeline.
“Where do we go from here?” she inquires with uncertainty.
Our eyes lock, and I notice the moisture in hers. She glances toward the window and then back at me.
“It was great practice,” she says slightly animated. “Hopefully, next time I’ll get it right. It gets harder as I get older.”
“Get what right?” I ask not understanding what’s happening.
“Dating, meeting people. You have to know, fucking Tinder, which sucks if you ask me, mirrors real life. Those who you’re interested in don’t reciprocate and … well, you get the idea.”
“Are you dumping me for Tinder?”
She shakes her head. “We don’t fit. I thought we had a connection, but clearly, it was just an illusion.”
I stare at her, confused by her words.
“Crazy talk,” she continues. “I’m not your average twenty-some-year-old woman. My friends claim that when I want something, I want it to be perfect.”
I dare to ask, “So you’re looking for the perfect man?” Suddenly, I feel unfit. Divorced, broken and rough around the edges.
“No, the perfect love, filled with passion. Addictive, maddening, savage. Also tender, and soft with just the right amount of wild. It’s so hard to find a man who I can fall for freely.
There’s no way I can explain what I want, but when I find him, I know he’s going to take my breath away, fuse my soul with his, and own every piece of my heart.
I want to be with a guy who ignites me just by pressing his mouth against mine.
I’ll be his everything, because he’ll be mine.
My best friend, my lover, and my soulmate. ”
I observe her fiery eyes, as I absorb the intensity of her words.
She wasn’t looking for a date; she was looking for a fairy tale.
A love as deep as the ocean and as beautiful as her.
In this moment, I don’t care about her name, only her.
I don’t want to play it safe. Instead, I want to lose myself in her.
I crave the beauty of her soul, and I want to comfort her trembling heart.
“I want to be reckless with you,” I say bringing my mouth to hers kissing her hard without any restraint.