43. Emerson
EMERSON
It’s nearly nine when the door to my office creaks open, my father filling the doorway with a sympathetic smile.
“What are you still doing here?” he asks quietly, the tenor of his voice making it seem like he already knows the answer.
“Debating whether or not to sign my divorce papers,” I tell him honestly, expecting to find him outraged or at the very least confused, but he’s not. Silently, he closes the door behind him and crosses my office to take the seat Des occupied hours ago. “You’re not surprised.”
“I run a billion-dollar company, Emerson. Nothing surprises me.” Crossing an ankle over his knee, he folds his hands in his lap. “How long?”
“What?”
“How long was it supposed to be fake?”
“Six months. Marrying him in Vegas wasn’t part of it. He asked me not to go through with the annulment when we got back to Chicago.”
“I see.”
Looking down at the engagement and wedding band I haven’t had the heart to remove, I sigh. “I thought it would be easier to do this.” Hoping for a bit of levity, I add, “I sign things all day long.”
“You seemed happy.”
“I was.”
“Then why does it have to end?”
“Because that was the agreement. And I told myself that this job wasn’t conducive to a husband and family.”
“Ask your uncle how that worked,” he replies. “He was miserable for decades, had a heart attack, and retired—now he’s all about family.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You never got over Mom. Carmen’s betrayal devastated Uncle Cullen—how can you act like this life allows for having anything outside of here?”
“Your mother was the love of my life. I wake up every morning a better man for having had her even for a short time. I haven’t dated because that part of my life is still filled by her memory, but if someone else came into my life and there was a spark, I wouldn’t cast that feeling aside.
I’m just not looking for it. Your uncle was bitter—that’s not the same thing. ”
I open my mouth and close it, digging my nails into my palms to stave off the tears that want to fall.
“How do I give someone else what they deserve and still be able to do my job here? People depend on me and—”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes,” I whisper, the admission cracking my heart wide open.
A savior, a queen, a battle cry heard.
And all that to say she set fire to my world.
“Emerson. You could walk out of here and never work another day in your life. This company is not sharing meals with you or kissing you good night. These walls won’t dry your tears or celebrate your victories.”
“But everything we’ve worked for—”
“Work, Emerson. It’s work. Sure, it’s a legacy, but there’s nothing more important for me in this life than you. Go enjoy yours with the man who loves you—who thinks you hung the moon because there’s no doubt in my mind that Garrett North adores you.”
“He was pretty mad when he left,” I tell him, rolling Garrett’s wedding ring between my fingers.
“And what is it that you and your cousin say? You’re Emerson Fucking Andrews—you can do anything.”
I snort out a laugh, making a mental note to share this little gem with Isla later.
After I get my husband back.
Because I will.
Like my father said, I’m Emerson Fucking Andrews.
I’m the woman in the song.
I’m Garrett’s wife.
And I think it’s about time I ask my husband to marry me.
For real.