Only for Her

by Cristin Harber

  My heart can’t decide whether to pound or clench. It’s hurting. I’m reliving the million pieces of my shattered heart that I’ve hidden. Despite his haunting memories and living paycheck to paycheck, my life is good right now. Maybe it’ll be better if he stays the unrequited dream-come-true that I dance for every Wednesday. At least that way, I’ll never know what it’s like to be devastated twice in a lifetime.

  “Okay. I’ll lay it out for you,” Grayson says. “I have… regrets.”

  That pulls me out of my head. “Regrets?” Regrets! “Are you kidding me?” My blood pressure rises, and I can’t even fathom a response. I just… he has no idea. Holy shit, I can’t breathe. “Shut up, Gray. Don’t say anything else.”

  Anger pounds in my head. I’ve had a life to live, complete with major what-the-fuck-should-I-do-now moments. Soul searching and delayed regret has never been on the agenda. Only two mouths to feed and responsibilities. “Take your regret and—”

  “You never deserved me leaving. I never wanted to go. It’s—you deserve an apology.”

  “Yeah, I do.” My lungs want to explode, and I swear to Jesus, the room starts to spin. This is what I’ve waited to hear for so long.

  “I’m sorry, Ems. Leaving you killed me. Ruined me. I’m fucked for having done it, and I’m asking for your forgiveness.”

  Dropping my head back, I stare at the ceiling and take inventory of my feelings after his big confession. Nothing’s changed. They’re just words. What did I think would happen?

  Am I any happier? No.

  Angrier? Nope.

  Euphoric? In love? Relieved? No, no, and no one more damn time.

  Well, that isn’t true. I’ll always love him. But still, we aren’t the same high school kids. What a realization. I’m different now. I bite my lip, thankful I don’t have the monumental task of trying to explain to Cally that she actually had a dad but he died. “I have to get back to work.”

  He clears his throat. “Work?”

  I nod as if he can see me. “My boss is gonna have a fit if I don’t get back.”

  What more am I supposed to say? All’s forgiven? My inner subconscious is a demented, two-faced traitor. I love you. Leave me alone.

  “Then I’ll call you later.”

  “What? Why?” He doesn’t get to show up when he feels like it. “I wanted to hear that from you for forever. And now I have.” I choke. “I thought you were dead!”

  Silence lingers. “Shit. I shouldn’t have called like this.”

  “No! Yes, you should have. But you should’ve done it years ago. You should have done it when I was heartbroken and alone. When I gave you everything and you walked away. Everything. Do you get that!”

  “Ems—”

  “No! Not with the Ems.”

  “Sweet Jesus, fuck me. You have no idea. I just needed to hear your voice again.”

  “God, you’re a selfish prick. You can’t be serious. I needed your voice years ago.” Holy crap, I’m sweating I’m so angry. “Your voice. Your help. You! I needed you to be here. You have no damn idea how much.”

  I slam the phone down and bury my eyes into my elbow. I refuse to cry at work over the boy who left me so long ago. So I won’t. Mind over matter. But I turn my head and stare at my phone. It stares back at me, its screen showing that Grayson’s still with me. As I always thought he’d be. Dammit! I’m so messed up in the head. I pick it up. “Gray?”

  Why couldn’t I have said his full name? Hearing Grayson’s harsh breath only serves to torture me. The sound is too long, too longing. Too perfect and everything that I remember.

  “Ems.”

  I don’t fight my nickname. Not this time. My eyelids sink shut, and I feel his voice as though I could feel his arms around me. But then my heart freezes. What does he know? What does he want? My maternal instinct flares. “I have to—”

  “Emma.” Sarah raps on the office door.

  I squeak, turning my head her way. “Hey.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “You’re needed in the copy room. Get a move on. Let’s go, go. G. O.”

  “On the phone.” I gesture toward it.

  She shakes her head, smiling. “That better be the president asking you to broker peace in the Middle East. Anything short of that, and you’re going to hear it from me.”

  What is that about?

  “It’s okay, Emma,” Grayson interrupts my thoughts. “I’ll figure out a different way to work this out.”

  “Um—” But the call ends before I can respond. Do I want him to call me later? Hell yes. But not really. My hands are trembling. Confusion will give me a migraine because… I’m also ten kinds of turned on right now. Shit, shoot, shit.

  “What is going on with this rosy-cheek thing you have happening now?” Sarah has one eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”

  “I—” I’m stuck in my seat, my phone glued to my hand. Panic joyrides through my system, crashing and clipping every part of me that hurts along the way. “My face is rosy?”

  “Sweetheart, if you have some piece of man-candy calling you, promising you dirty things that make your cheeks pink like that, and you haven’t told me, we’re going to have to reevaluate the topics of our coffee break gossip sessions.”

  My eyes drop back to my cell. Gray’s gone. He was just in my ear, and now he’s gone. I illuminate the screen. His number is there. I don’t know what to do with it. Save it? Delete it? What do I do with the last five minutes?

  “Hey, space cadet.” Sarah leans farther into the office. “Copy room. It’s important. Post haste, move your caboose.” She tilts her head, studying me. “No joke. You okay?”

  “I… don’t know.”

  Her gaze drops pointedly to my phone. “Who was that?”

  “Grayson Ford.”

  Sarah’s mouth falls open. “Wait, Grayson-Grayson? I thought—he’s… alive?”

  I can’t explain how I feel. “Grayson-Grayson. The love of my life is alive and just called to say, three years later, he was sorry. He sounded like a dick. With a voice… and he was a bossy jerk.”

  “Bossy?”

  “Demanding, maybe.”

  “About?”

  “Forgiveness.”

  “Oh…” Sarah drops into an empty chair on the other side of my desk. “Well, holy jizzballs.”

  I nod. “How did he even get my number?”

  She scowls. “No idea. So… what did you say?”

  I ignore her question and cringe. “He called me Ems.” Even now, that makes my stomach flutter.

  “Emma,” she draws out, “what did you say?”

  “Nothing that I should have.” I shrug, unable to defend my actions. There should have been name-calling or at least a verbal jab or two. And we had a major amount of things to catch up on… “He said he’s calling me again. Later.”

  “So does he know about our girl?” Sarah has never met Grayson, but she’s wiped enough tears and heard my story a thousand times, enough to know the father of my baby doesn’t know he’s a daddy. “Emma? Shit, sweetheart, snap out of it.”

  I chew my lip. “I want him to call me later. How fucked up am I?” Totally, one hundred percent fucked up. But love makes me stupid; love hates smart decisions. It’s all about the feels. Hurts are a distant memory that I can’t admit exist. “Wait. Oh my God. Do you think he knows about Cally?”

  Sarah’s eyes dart to my framed pictures on my desk. “Well—”

  “Well?” I bounce from surprisingly, angrily aroused to ready to puke. “He deserves to know. But I’m terrified.”

  “Why?”

  “God, why not? He could want…” My head shakes. “Rights. Custody. Or worse, want nothing. I haven’t seen him in years. I know nothing about him except he’s alive.”

  She groans. “Well… wow. Alright, I don’t know what to say.”

  I stand and push my hands against the desk, letting my head hang. I can do this. Go back to work. Survive a few hours. Forget about Grayson. Go home to my new house, un
pack some boxes, and relax. Cally’s spending the night with my sister. Maybe I’ll answer the phone if Grayson calls. If he calls. Which he won’t. Right?

  My phone buzzes. The screen shows a text message.

  Unknown number: I’ll fix what I fucked up. Prepare yourself, Ems, I’m coming for you and I want forgiveness.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Emma

  “Surprise!” A dozen faces stare at me, smiling and beaming. There’s a cake in the center of the break room table.

  I’m in a Grayson-Ford-is-alive stupor, and now I have to play happy at a surprise party.

  “Happy birthday,” comes from several co-workers.

  One of the managers elbows another. “Wow, think we got her?”

  “She’s so stinkin’ sweet. That might be the best surprise face ever.”

  Holy crap. My office threw me a surprise party? I might be a lowly intern and even a stripper, but I’m not ungrateful. I pull it together fast. “Thank you!”

  Sarah squeezes me, a public act of friendship, a private act of support. Then she nudges me toward the cake. The candles are burning low, the wax melting onto the white sheet cake. Scrolled in magenta icing is “Happy 21st Birthday!” Next to the cake are paper plates and plastic forks.

  “Birthday girl cuts the cake. And get a move on.” A marketing exec known for his sweet tooth chuckles.

  “Come on.” Sarah tugs me to the table and cuts the first slices before Eileen, our office receptionist, butts in.

  Jeremy pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “Emma, this is from the office.” He reaches under the table and pulls out a basket. “I’m not sure we’ve ever had an intern work so hard.”

  They’ve probably never had an intern so hard up and ready to make a better life.

  “Open it!”

  I step forward and eye the cellophane wrap. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Well, you can thank Sarah and Eileen for that.”

  Some of the guys eat cake and urge me to open the basket. Whatever is underneath all the plastic, it’s got everyone excited. This feels like more than the standard present our office pulls together. Tearing it open, I see bright pink shredded paper then smaller presents, individually wrapped.

  I tear open the first one. It’s a cookbook, and the title makes me giggle. 1001 Ways to Make Ramen Noodles. Holding it up, I can’t help but laugh. That’s all I eat because they’re super cheap. Less moolah spent on me, more spent on Cally.

  Eileen stops cutting cake. “If you’re going to eat that crap every day, might as well change it up a little.”

  “Thanks.” I open the next few gifts. A pink fuzzy pen holder for my desk. A framed picture from our company retreat, which I was only able to spend a few hours at, and an envelope. I pull it out, and everyone steps closer. It’s a letter, but with everyone staring at me, I’m nervous. “What’s this?”

  Jeremy nods toward the paper in my hand. “Something well earned.”

  The entire room is watching me. A nervous energy runs through me, and I unfold it.

  Dear Emma Kingsley,

  On behalf of Creative Dynamic Worldwide, thank you for your hard work and dedication. You are the first recipient of a new benefit for selected Creative Dynamic employees: tuition reimbursement.

  Thank you,

  Jeremy Rossdale

  “Oh my God.” I look up, but tears cloud my vision, then they spill. Rapidly blinking, I try to match Jeremy’s face to what I think this means. “Is the company picking up my tuition this semester?”

  He nods. “Funny how the corporate headquarters won’t cut one of our best interns a check, but they’re open to paying some of your bills.”

  “It’s a tax write-off,” one of the accountants volunteers.

  “It was Jeremy’s idea.” Eileen nods toward her boss.

  My throat’s in a knot. “I—don’t. Oh, wow. Just thank you.” Not eloquent but exactly how I feel. All choked up and scattered beyond words. “Thank you.”

  “Enough with the tears. Back to cake.” But Jeremy comes over and gives me a boss-appropriate side hug. “Sometimes good things happen out of the blue.”

  My mind jumps back to Grayson. “Sometimes they do.”

  Cake in her hand, Sarah steps toward me as Jeremy steps away. “One more surprise.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I can handle another surprise.”

  “You’re not going to like it anyway. At first. But Cherry and I are pretty sure it’s for your sanity, and she doesn’t even know about the Grayson phone call earlier.”

  “Okay, first off, I need to tell Cherry, not you. She’s all nice about him since she thought he was dead, but she’s like Ryan. She basically wants Gray dead anyway. And second, my sanity is fine.”

  “You have three jobs, plus school, plus a kiddo. Let’s not bullshit by saying you have a good grip on sanity.”

  “What are you two up to?”

  Sarah beams. “You’re going to say no, but don’t.”

  “Sarah…”

  “Cherry’s going to pick Cally up from day care. She was already going to spend the night at Cherry’s, so you don’t pick her up, and we do go to happy hour!”

  I snort-laugh. “Yeah, no.”

  “Seriously, we’ll go to Vevy’s and have a couple drinks, ring in the big two-one.”

  “I need to see Cally.”

  “All you were going to do is pick her up and drop her off.”

  My bottom lip sticks out. “I’m not sure I’m ready to not see her off to Cherry’s.”

  “A couple hours of very tame fun. I think you deserve it.”

  Really, I don’t feel as though I deserve much. Every single minute of my life is directed toward getting to a better place.

  “Just take a break. Take a chance.” Sarah sidesteps us into the corner. “Look, I know you grew up with the perfect family, perfect life, all that stuff. But if you don’t give yourself a breather, you’re… I don’t know. Going to explode.”

  My brow furrows. “I’m not going to explode.”

  “But you’re punishing yourself. It’s just a few hours out to celebrate you before you start unpacking.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Cally’s cool with it, your mom swears. It was her idea actually, even though I’m going to take credit for it.”

  Gnawing on my bottom lip, I think maybe I do need a breather. Just to laugh. “I’ll call Cally. If she sounds like she doesn’t need to see me before Cherry’s then… okay.”

  “Yeah?” Sarah goes up on her toes. “Sweet.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emma

  Vevy’s is rocking. It’s a fancy steakhouse with a bar that makes colorful drinks in snazzy glasses. Creative Direct has a corporate account here to entertain clients, and they spend a serious amount of dough, which is why the bartender has turned a blind eye to my birthday not actually arriving for two more days.

  My co-workers mill around, wishing me a happy birthday. Even Jeremy dropped in for two point five seconds and another boss-appropriate side hug. I’m playing the part of the birthday girl, but I can’t stop staring at my phone.

  At first I was convinced Cherry would call with a crying Cally. So I called Cherry. Twice. Both times, Cally was absolutely fine with not having seen me since this morning. She even told me I would be okay. Maybe my snugglebug is growing up faster than I’m ready for.

  But that’s not the only reason I keep looking at my phone. For every sip I take, I stare at my cell and slowly drain its battery.

  “Thinking about Grayson or Cally?” Sarah asks.

  “Oh… um, both.”

  She nods. “So if you’re not going to tell Cherry right away, I assume Ryan will be told… never?”

  God, Sarah’s right. If my brother finds out Grayson’s alive and back in the States, Summerland’s favorite rookie cop might just kill the guy.

  The shoulder-to-shoulder crowd shifts behind me.

  “Happy birthday!”

  I turn around and
see some of the girls from Emerald’s. New faces, but really, there are always new faces. The turnover there is ridiculous. Sarah knows I’m friendly with them, and most of them wouldn’t turn down a party, much less the only time I’ll probably ever go out for drinks.

  “Hey, girls!”

  My fake excitement rings true to them, and we do the necessary small talk. This isn’t exactly what they’d picture for a twenty-first birthday party, but they’re sweet to show up at Sarah’s last-minute invitation.

  “Bruno sends his love.” Dominique, who has been there the longest out of the girls here, holds a card.

  My cocktail buzz has me more giggly than I’m used to. Bruno sending a birthday card is like Sarah jumping on the bar to strip—it won’t happen unless there’s a catch. I’m unsure about opening the card in public, but Bruno has some tact. I think. “What is it?”

  “No idea,” she says, handing it over. “But we’re all dying to know.”

  I set my drink down and rip open the card. It’s on thick card stock with Emerald’s embossed along the top.

  Happy birthday, Ginger. I have a business proposition for you now that you’re an old lady. Forget the past, grab the future, and go get laid.

  x, Bruno

  His scrawl is in thick, dark ink, and I pull the card to my chest as if everyone can see it. My cheeks go hot, and the girls’ eyebrows go up. A dozen questioning eyes are on me.

  “What’d it say?” Sarah asks.

  The Emerald’s girls would never ask anything that’d invade Bruno’s privacy, but they’re dying to know too. It’s written all over their pretty, made-up faces.

  “Happy birthday and to go have fun.”

  “I bet.” Dominique’s smiling. She’s the only one senior enough to risk nosing into Bruno’s business, even if he’s not around.

  “Hey.” The bartender nods for my attention. “Birthday girl.”

  “That’s me.” I tuck the card deep into my purse, and our little stripper circle breaks up as the girls mingle, leaving me to fidget on the bar stool.