by RC Boldt
His jaw tenses, features turning steely, as disappointment cascades over his features. “That’s it? Just like that?”
Releasing a humorless laugh, I glare hard at him. “That’s rich coming from the man who accused me of stealing intellectual property today.”
He throws up his hands in evident frustration. “I came here to apologize!” His voice rises. “Which you never did, by the way.”
My own voice increases in volume. “Apologize for what?”
“For leaving me at the fucking altar without a damn word!”
Staring at him incredulously, my jaw slackens. “I can’t believe it comes back to that.” My tone turns ripe with sarcasm. “You think you were done so wrong.”
“You left me!” he explodes.
“You betrayed me!” I yell back. “You told my father not to worry,” my tone changes, laden with sarcasm, “that you’d give me a little pat on the head and have me forget all about my dreams of having a career I loved.”
He falls silent a moment, his brows creasing. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I heard you, Knox,” I snarl. “I heard you and my father talking right before we were due to walk down the aisle.”
He suddenly pales, lips parting in dismay and probably guilt, as well. “Emma Jane…”
I manage to muster a wan smile. “No worries, though. I heard it all, and that’s why I didn’t stick around. No way was I going to become some Stepford wife with nothing but party planning and gardening to fill my days.” I spit the words out with venom. “Hell, even Katherine knew!”
Knox remains silent, standing stock-still, and continues to stare at me. “I don’t believe it.” He takes a step back, almost clumsily, as if in a daze. “You believed that? That I was telling your father the truth?”
His eyes bore into me as he speaks carefully, his tone even. “I always hated the way your father treated you and your mother. The old-school views he had about women. The opinions he had about you getting your degree and landing that job. I was only,” he swallows thickly, “placating him that day. Telling him what he wanted to hear.” Pain is etched across his features. “I would never have said you couldn’t pursue a career, let alone seek out your dreams.”
After a brief pause, he adds vehemently, “And I never told anyone about that conversation with your father, aside from Wells.” He shakes his head. “Katherine’s always been jealous of you, Emma Jane.”
“But,” I falter slightly, before regaining steam, “what about the home office you set up for my”—I break off and hook my fingers in air quotes—“‘monogramming business’?”
When he answers, his tone hovers between stunned and exasperated. “I thought you might like to do that on the side.” A severe crease appears between his brows. “I never meant for it to seem degrading, but for you to have your special place…”
Oh, no. No, no, no. This can’t possibly be true.
Can it?
The room feels like it’s closing in on me. Like a thousand-pound weight is sitting on my chest.
Is it possible that I’d had it all wrong? Had I wrongly believed what I’d heard? Had I doubted my own fiancé and believed the worst of him?
I’d believed that he was just like my own father.
My hand flies to cover my mouth in horror. “No.”
Knox’s expression of hurt, the disbelief on his face is like a knife stabbing my chest. “You were only giving him lip service?” I whisper.
He holds my gaze for a beat before his expression hardens. “Of course, I was.” Snorting derisively, he adds, “I loved you, Emma Jane.”
Oh, God. Clutching desperately at the countertop, my chin drops to my chest as I stare down at the granite, my vision blurring with tears of regret.
Regret for my mistake made in such youthful haste, drenched in utter heartache.
I'd been so adamant about escaping my father's stronghold after fighting him for each and every morsel of independence. No daughter should feel she's incapable of making her own decisions. I hadn't been able to bear the idea of continuing to live like that, with Knox merely taking his place.
“Guess we’re even, huh?” he offers with a laugh devoid of humor. “You thought the worst of me back then, and this time ’round, I thought the worst of you. The only thing is, you end up jumping ship each time, right?”
My head whips around as I gape at him. “I’m sorry, Knox,” I offer weakly, my throat painfully tight with emotion.
“Yeah.” He runs his hands over his head before slipping them into the pockets of his pants. Staring down at his shoes, he blows out a long, heavy breath. “Mr. Feldman wants you to be the one to present everything to him and his partners. The only time he has in his schedule is for tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” My voice is filled with resignation.
He merely nods, his eyes still averted, before turning to exit the kitchen.
I watch him retreat, not knowing exactly what to say or do at this moment. I want so badly to divulge everything, but I’m too shell-shocked at what I’ve just learned.
Right as he lays his hand on the door handle, the words spill from my lips. “I’m sorry for not believing in you.”
He turns his head to the side, eyes downcast, and speaks so softly that I strain to hear him. “You didn’t just fail to believe in me, Emma Jane.” With a slight shake of his head, he finishes with, “You didn’t believe in us.” Then, he closes the door quietly behind him.
I promptly crumble to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and curl upon myself.
And the tears begin to fall.
WEDNESDAY
I can distinctly recall the last time I’d used this much makeup, attempting to conceal the puffiness of my eyes from crying. It seems I’ve come full circle.
Mr. Feldman made things go much smoother, thankfully, and he immediately insisted that we set the deal into motion as soon as possible. I barely held back a wince when he shook Knox’s hand after we’d finished up, telling him how lucky he is to have me on board.
“You’d better do everything in your power to keep her around,” he’d boasted while offering me a quick wink.
With a weak smile in return, I’d merely nodded and shook everyone’s hands as they’d left with Knox in tow to see them out.
Now, I’m packing up my things, preparing to head out and catch my flight to New York for the interview. I’ve already submitted my resignation to Human Resources as well as sent a copy to Knox’s email.
“I received your email.”
My head snaps up at hearing Knox’s voice, and I find him standing at my office door. I nod silently and finish packing up my briefcase. Due to my minimalist tendencies, I really didn’t have many personal items aside from the few small framed snapshots of me, Madison, and Becket on my desk.
“When does your flight leave?”
I regard him with wary suspicion. “At three.”
Glancing up at the time on the clock, I note that it’s nearing eleven o’clock. I have to allot the normal two hours to get through the security checkpoints, and it takes about thirty minutes to get to the airport from here.
“Are you driving? Or taking a cab?”
“I’ll probably schedule a ride on the Lyft app.” I wave a hand toward my cell phone lying on my desk.
“I can drive you.” My eyes collide with his in surprise. “So we can talk.”
I wonder what else he could possibly want to talk to me about. “If it’s to try to get me to stay here—”
“It’s not.” With the barest smile in place, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, not one hundred percent, anyway.” Sobering, he adds, “I really just wanted to discuss some things.” There’s a brief pause. “And I’d like to show you something before we hit the airport.”
I study his features before releasing a sigh. “Fine. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”
“I’ll get my keys and meet you back here.”
> 38
Knox
I pull into the driveway and the confusion radiating from her is palpable.
“Who lives here?” There’s surprised hesitance in her tone.
“I do.” I turn off the ignition of my truck, staring straight ahead at the house. “Well, I have since I’ve been working here.”
Abruptly exiting the vehicle, I round it and open her door, helping her out.
“It’s beautiful.” She peers up at the two-story home with a porch and balcony on the front.
“Come see the inside.” I tip my head in the direction of my house, clenching my fingers to resist reaching for her hand.
She follows me up the sidewalk leading to the front door, and I unlock it and lead her inside.
“Wow,” she breathes as she takes in the sight of the open floor plan, the refinished hardwood floors, and the large kitchen. Turning her attention to me, the expression of interest and pride helps to stifle my unease. “Tell me what you did.”
I walk her through the house, explaining in detail all the renovations I’ve done. Once we return to the kitchen, we settle into the chairs at the large island in the kitchen. She runs a hand appreciatively across the sleek granite countertop and heavy silence blankets us.
“I came to Jacksonville to find you.”
At my admission, her head snaps up, shock etching her features. “What?”
“I came to Jacksonville once I’d found out where you were…a few months after you left. After the first photos showed up with you and Becket together. At the start of the speculation about your relationship.”
She’s fallen completely silent, but I press on.
“I wondered if you’d had me fooled, if you left me for him, and you’d had some sort of secret affair all along.”
“I didn’t—”
I hold up a hand to wave off her protest. “I know. I know that now. But it was pretty tough to swallow.” I break off with a harsh sounding laugh. “That’s a lie. It fucking gutted me. Especially when you’d had that, uh,” I falter, unsure of how to phrase it, “weight gain at one point.”
Her lips part in surprise, but I continue. “I came to see you, to tell you that I still loved you and wanted to know if we could work things out.
“It was the night of some fancy art gallery opening in Midtown.” My stomach tightens in remembrance of that night. “Becket kissed you.” My jaw clenches and unclenches at the memory. “And that, combined with the speculation about you possibly carrying his baby—that was all I needed to see.”
“He didn’t really kiss me,” she admits in a small voice.
I dart a quick glance her way. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I know that now. I figured it out later. The one gala where he grabbed you and dipped you dramatically. The moment he kissed you, I thought I saw his hand slide to cover your lips. But I wasn’t sure.
“But back then, I’d felt like a fool. Witnessing you both laugh together like a real couple after that kiss, seeing what some were claiming was a baby bump…” I swallow hard, recalling how much it hurt to see her with him. “I left because seeing the two of you confirmed things for me...why you left me.”
Her eyes are downcast, and I’m at a loss for what else to say. Cognizant of the time it takes to drive her to the airport and also allotting for how long it’ll take her to make it through the often lengthy, congested TSA line for security screening, I guide her out the door and back into the truck in silence.
I stare straight ahead, navigating the truck along I-95 amidst the typical thick Jacksonville traffic before exiting the interstate and turning onto Airport Road. The closer we get to the airport itself, the harder it is for me to breathe as the tension increases within the vehicle.
“Knox, part of that was true.”
I toss her a quick look and find her wringing her hands in a nervous manner, apprehension lining her features while she stares straight ahead.
After pulling along the curb of the area designated for outgoing flight passengers, I put the truck into park.
Confused, I tilt my head to the side in question. “What was true?”
“I was pregnant.”
I rear back as if I’ve just been slapped.
“But it wasn’t Becket’s.” She turns to look at me, her entire demeanor hesitant. “It was yours.”
I’m rendered speechless by her confession and can only manage to stare at her, stunned.
A knock on her window breaks my daze as the curb attendant motions for us to either drop off or continue on our way since we’re holding up the flow of arriving passengers.
Glancing at the time, I realize we have five minutes to spare so I quickly pull into the short-term parking lot. Once I find a space, I park the truck and turn to her.
Without pause, she begins, and speaking her words with slow deliberation. “I moved here. Becket got me the interview. After I was hired, everything happened in such a whirlwind that I…” She falters, her focus dropping to the console between us. “I just thought, being so depressed and heartbroken, it was natural to gain a little weight.” She pauses briefly. “I didn’t even realize… I had no symptoms. I’d only gained about ten pounds. One day, I was cramping badly, and the pain became so unbearable that Becket had to drive me to the hospital. That’s when I found out I was pregnant. That I—” She breaks off and tears trickle down her cheeks.
My brain already zeroed in on a key word. “Was?” I question gently. But the moment her gaze raises to mine, my suspicions are confirmed. Agonizing pain clouds her blue eyes, and tears begin rapidly raining down her cheeks.
“I miscarried at about four and a half months.”
She covers her mouth, attempting to stifle a sob, as her shoulders quake. Quickly releasing both of our seat belts, I flip up the center console and take her in my arms as best I can. Her face is pressed against my collarbone, and she weeps while I attempt to soothe her, running my hand up and down her back.
“I was so scared, and my parents weren’t speaking to me—no one was speaking to me—and I couldn’t tell Granddad. The only person I had was Becket.” Her words cut deep as sobs wrack her body. “I lost her.”
Her. A girl. Jesus, we had a baby girl.
She raises her head, pain etched across her features. “I didn’t know how much you could want something—someone—until you lose it.” Her face crumples. “I loved her.”
“I know you did.” I gently frame her face with my hands, my thumbs tenderly smoothing away tears. “I know you did.” As much as it pains me to say it, I have to voice it. “I’m glad you had Becket.”
She inhales deeply, as if to regain composure. “I was going to tell you, but I just wasn’t sure how…”
Numbly, I nod, trying to fully grasp what she’s just revealed. My eyes flick over to the clock, and I realize time is not on my side.
“It’s time to go,” I tell her gently. She nods and we both fasten our seat belts as I quickly maneuver the vehicle out of the lot and drive to the drop-off area once again.
Putting the truck in park, I exit and rush around to help her out. I grab her small rolling suitcase from the back and set it on the sidewalk beside her before I pluck what I’d quickly picked up from the house.
Offering the daisy to her, she accepts it with a weak smile, seemingly entranced by the flower. At a sudden loss for what to do with my hands, I slide them into my pockets.
“Good luck with the interview. I hope, if it’s really what you want, you end up happy there.” I curl my lips inward, trying to choose my words carefully. “But, I want you to know what’s waiting for you back here.”
She scans my features, as if trying to gauge the truth to my words. “Are you saying I can keep my job here?”
“Your job is here if you want it.” I lift one shoulder in a half shrug. “If that’s what you decide.” Again, I shrug. “Take a few days off to think about it.”
Her lips part, but I interrupt quickly. “But I’ll be here, too. If you decide that
you”—I clear my throat nervously—“want me.” While holding her gaze steadily, I add, “Again.”
A car horn honks in the distance, breaking our moment, and I muster up a weak smile. I reach out to caress her cheek with my thumb. “Be safe.”
When I walk around to get in my truck and drive away, there’s no mistaking the fact that I just left my heart back there at the airport.
With the one woman—the only woman—who’s possessed it.
39
Emma Jane
THURSDAY
This interview’s gone extremely well considering I felt emotionally wrung out by the time I’d checked in to my hotel last night.
Elise is finishing up the full tour she’s been giving me of their location, informing me that the Jacksonville offices are nearly finished—they’re in the final stages of installing basic décor—and will look much like these.
“You’ll be one of my first picks to come aboard.” She gives me a sly smile. “So that means you’ll get your choice of which office you’d prefer there.”
“Wow,” I breathe out in surprise. Their building is located in one of the best, most scenic spots overlooking the St. Johns River, so it’s practically guaranteed to have gorgeous views.
“However,” she adds, “part of your job requirement will necessitate you to fly up here for three weeks every quarter within the first two years, in order to facilitate things more smoothly and ensure everyone’s on the same page.”
Oh, wow. I’d be required to fly to New York for nearly a month four times each year.
“Do you think you could give me a firm answer by Monday?”
Nodding slowly, I smile. “I definitely will.”
“Great.” Elise beams at me. “I look forward to hearing from you on Monday with the news that you’ll be joining the ECC family.”
I leave ECC intent on returning to the hotel to grab my luggage and catch a cab to the airport for my flight back to Jacksonville. Yet somehow, I find myself taking a slight detour and entering a nearby florist. When I exit the shop with a single daisy in hand, I amble along the bustling sidewalk and give in to the urge.
