The sight of Emmeline across from the table, smiling as she’s telling me about her day has a strange effect on me. I didn’t have a good day. Thinking about relocating the company was putting me into the worst mood I’ve had in months. But just having her with me makes me feel wistful.
What is this woman doing to me?
She might not be wearing the tight little number she described last Monday but the loose, sleeveless dresses paired with leggings and a pair of sandals is more than enough to make me want to touch her body, badly.
“Thank you for following my last-minute plan,” she says. “I had no idea Pamplona was in town.”
“What happened to your barre class?”
“Who cares about barre when Jonathan Kessler is here to play—for me,” she says. Her eyes twinkle. “Next Tuesday I’ll try the barre class. Also, thank you for bringing me here. This is one of the few places where I wouldn’t feel comfortable dining by myself.”
“Do you usually eat by yourself?”
“Yes, I dine alone most of the time.”
She sighs, takes a sip of her wine and says, “And there it goes, another awkward confession by Emmeline. You need to stop asking so many questions. I can’t seem to dodge them or lie to you.”
“Thank you?” I say, giving her a strange look. “So, you’re not usually this friendly and open?”
She wipes her mouth, sets her napkin back on her lap and says. “Only with people I know. You and I are just getting acquainted. And I’m usually the one asking questions. Not the other way around.”
“You like to be the one in the know, don’t you?” I ask. It dawns on me why I’m flustering her. She likes to be in charge.
“Exactly!” she says excited. “I like facts and knowing how to help others. Actually, it’s part of my job. One of my favorite clients calls me a ninja.”
“A ninja?” I frown at the mention of that word.
“There I go again, I’m talking too much.”
She presses her lips against each other, tightly, looks around, then back at me.
“We’ll change the subject,” I say.
I look down at her foot. She keeps tapping it against the wood floor. I study it curiously, trying to read her tattoo. There’s something very familiar about it.
“Is your brother still in town?” she asks, distracting me.
“Yes, he’s still in Steamboat,” I answer. “Probably with a group of friends. Nothing he’d talk about since he’s never been serious in a relationship.”
“What is it with people not getting serious these days,” she questions and shakes her head.
“You can’t generalize,” I interject.
“No one wants a serious relationship because they’re afraid they’ll end up becoming part of the forty-one percent who end up divorced,” she explains.
“I think it all depends on who they end up marrying.”
Who the fuck am I and why am I defending relationships? I’m part of that fucking forty-one percent and swore never to go there.
“Or dating,” she states. “How many guys pretend to be single when they’re in a committed relationship. Then, there are those who like to date just for fun, and after a few dates they realize there was nothing to hold them together.”
“You’ve dated married people?” I inquire.
“No but it happens often,” she says. “For all I know, you could be engaged, and I’m your last fling before the big day.”
I laugh, she reminds me a little of Amy, trying to toss around theories to fish for facts. There’s something about this woman that reminds me of her, I just don’t know what exactly, I can’t put my finger on it.
“What if you’re the one about to be married?”
She snorts and then grins. “You might have forgotten the fact that I’m scared shitless of commitment. Let’s change the subject again. How about music?”
Emmeline eyes at me suspiciously and asks. “What kind of music do you listen to?”
“These days, I’ve been listening to a lot of indie groups. I like grunge, enjoy some classic rock if I’m in the mood I listen to—”
At that moment, the waitress rushes to the table. “Would you like another scotch?” she takes my empty glass.
“No, thank you. I’m driving,” I say. “Would you bring me an iced tea?”
“Of course, your food will be out in just a few minutes,” she announces.
“Em, would you like something else to drink?” I point at the empty glass of wine. “A martini?”
“I’m good,” she responds and smiles at the waitress.
Once we’re alone, she leans forward and says, “You don’t want to see what happens when I drink more than I should. It’s messy.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that side of you,” I say suggestively.
Immediately I realize that I truly wouldn’t mind seeing that side of her. Not the drunk Emmeline, the messy part. I want to know everything about Emmeline. Including her last name. Why is it that we’ve gone out a few times and we haven’t exchanged details as simple as our full names?
I think we’re at a point where she wouldn’t care that I’m a CEO or the details of my net worth. If we’re going to continue this relationship, things have to change. With my ex-wife, we cared too much about appearances. She was one of those women who would wake up with makeup on, God forbid I saw her au natural. Vivian had to be perfect for everyone. We were together because of appearances. She never loved me, and it took me a long time to realize that I didn’t love her either.
I’m not saying that I’m falling in love with Emmeline. But something is happening between us that’s worth exploring. I want to know more about her and the person she tries to conceal. I want to show her who I am. I’ve been hiding for a long time.
For a moment, I think of Amy and how would it be to finally meet her in person. Would she look twice at me? Immediately, I feel like an asshole. Why is it that being with Emmeline makes me feel like I’m being dishonest with Amy? Developing serious feelings isn’t something I like to do, and now, it’s happening with two different people.
Amy brightens my day. She’s perfect for me. Our personalities are so different that we just click, but she’s unattainable. Instead I have Emmeline. Who are you, Emmeline?
But that’s unfair, she deserves more than a guy who is interested in someone else. Am I obsessed with Amy just because it’s safe? She’s far away and can’t hurt me. I look at Emmeline, and there’s that powerful magnetic attraction that makes me feel like we belong together. Thirty-four and I’m thinking like a teenage boy discovering his first love. I just don’t know who I’m more attracted to.
Forget about that Amy chick.
She is unattainable and most likely, already taken. No, earlier she mentioned being a handful and how no one would be able to put up with her personality.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” she answers with a chuckle. “Actually, it’s been a long time since I drank too much. How about yourself, when was the last time you got wasted?”
“Are you fishing for information?” I counter. “I think I have your number.”
Thank you, Amy Walker.
“Of course you have my number,” she claims. “That’s precisely how we ended up on this date. You called me and texted me. I said no. Then, you convinced me, and here we are. I thought it was pretty obvious how we ended up in the same restaurant. I can give you a refresher. If you want, I can put you in my schedule tomorrow morning between Spearman and Everhart.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. My nostrils flare as I hear my last name. Calm down, it’s not an uncommon last name.
Her eyes open wide. “Nothing. I was saying names I shouldn’t be saying. They’re private.”
“Your clients?” I take a wild guess.
I look back at her tapping feet and recognize the foot. Amy fucking Walker’s foot.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jack
“Yes,” she answers whispering. A
ll the color in her face is completely gone. “Please, I beg you.” She takes a deep breath. “Forget about what I just said. That’s super confidential. Oh fuck, I’m going to get sued,” she mumbles
She’s hyperventilating and there’s moisture in her eyes like she feels the entire world is about to explode because she made a mistake, a big mistake. She’s not allowed to mention my last name. Ever. My last name, I repeat.
She is fucking Amy Walker.
Is it that she thinks she’s in trouble or she realized that I caught her playing me? I run a hand through my hair, boiling with fury. I clench my jaw so tight, it hurts. I’m so fucking mad at her and myself. How did I fucking fall for this?
I’m getting her fucking fired. But before that, I decide to play along. She likes mind games, well mine is going to be even better, sweetheart.
“Have you ever traveled?” I ask drily, knowing she’s afraid of long trips.
“Not lately,” she answers blinking twice.
“But you travel?”
She plays with the bottom of her lip, the color in her face still gone. She looks lost.
“Are you okay?” I feel conflicted because she’s pale and looks sick.
She shakes her head. “I have a rule, I have boundaries.” She places her napkin on top of the table. “I can’t lose my company. It’s all I have. But here you are making me lose that line I have between my personal life and my professional career.”
Did I create this problem? No! This is on you, Emmeline or is it Amy Walker? You’re the one who must’ve tracked me down and decided to play with me. Anger spirals from the pit of my stomach.
“I swear I never lose my shit the way I am right now,” she continues her voice filled with anguish. “I hate trusting people.”
“Why?”
Why should I even listen to you? You’re a liar who’s been playing me. I’m just waiting for your next move to defeat you. I know your kind Emmeline, or is it Amy? You’re just like Vivian.
“It makes me vulnerable.”
“Who do you think would be more upset, Everhart or Spearman?” I jab her with my question.
Her jaw tenses. Did I piss you off, sweetheart? I’m going to show you what happens when you start threatening the big boys.
“Which one of them would fuck me over spilling their names?” she snorts. “Well, that’s cruel of you to ask. Does it matter? Obviously, you don’t understand the gravity. I’m so stupid. It’s obvious that this isn’t going to work for us.”
She picks up her purse. “What I do is important to me. I help others. Some are CEOs, but I also do pro bono work for non-profit companies. My goal is to help people and be successful. What I do, my job is my entire life. I’m devoted to my mission. There are few things that affect me but losing what I created is definitely one of them.”
Emmeline gives me a sad smile that pulls at my heartstrings. It reminds me of the distracted woman in the book store who lives in her own world. How can you do this to me, Emmeline? Or is it fucking Amy?
I stop and think about Amy, who would be gloating if she met me. Wouldn’t she? If this woman knew I was Jackson Spearman, we’d be having a different conversation. I exhale a groan, unable to keep the simmering anger down.
She laughs hysterically and touches the empty glass of wine. “I don’t even have the excuse of being drunk. See I told you I shouldn’t have come. I was talking to someone earlier…”
There’s a long pause, as she looks around the restaurant. “It doesn’t matter.”
She pulls out her wallet.
“I have no attachments to anyone but Sushi and Ramen—well and my best friends. Anyway, I was asked if I had a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a significant other. I joked about having one of each. He said it made sense since I’m a handful.”
A groan accompanies an eye roll.
“And he’s right, I am.”
“Well at least I know you’re single,” I say casually, trying to gauge if this is a prank or she’s truthfully concerned about what I can do to her company.
“So, after you were told that you were a handful, you wrote me off?” I ask and study her.
The anger that whipped through me earlier, like a storm, simmers down from a hurricane to a tropical storm. Trusting someone is so fucking hard. How can I believe that this isn’t an act?
She gives me a sharp nod, focusing on the almost empty glass of wine in front of her.
“You don’t strike me as a person who cares what others say,” I say.
“Usually, I don’t, but for some reason, his opinion mattered,” she says, opening her wallet.
“He’s a fucking idiot,” I tell her.
I bite back the harsh words on the tip of my tongue. I’m not furious, but I’m definitely annoyed with the situations. Mostly, because I can’t understand it. Frowning, I watch her taking some cash out of her wallet. I ask, “Why did you accept my invitation after all?”
“I looked up at my wall and read one of my quotes,” she pauses giving me a sad smile, “The wall in my office is full of them. It said, ‘Conquer your fears.’”
She sets the money on the table. “I conquered one, fear of rejection. Next time, I’ll work out the kinks. I plan on getting this right, eventually.”
She rises from her seat with her phone in hand already tapping it furiously. Then, she gives me a serious look. “Thank you for the invitation. You’re welcome to do whatever you want with what I said.”
Anger darkens her eyes, or maybe it’s a hint of disappointment. I stare back at her. I have so many conflicting emotions whirling inside my chest, I have no idea how I want to respond to what she’s telling me.
“Have a good night, Jack,” she says and leaves.
A tinge of disappointment pinches my heart. Thoughts of losing Amy weigh heavily on me. I swallow the lump of anger and frustration rising up to choke me. Maybe I should go after her and ask, do I call you Amy or Emmeline? Was this a game for you or just a fucking coincidence?
As she walks away, I receive a notification from her application.
AWalk90: Hey, I fucked up and mentioned your name to someone. Fitz recommended I give you a heads up. Nothing from your company or your personal affairs was revealed during the conversation. If you need to get out of the contract, my boss, Emmeline Lancaster, says she’ll free you from the contract without any extra charge. Sorry for being unprofessional.
F. Everhart: Dude, just spoke with your assistant. She’s not perfect, even when she swears, she has to be. There was a small confidentiality slip. If you’re taking any legal action, know there’re no grounds to sue her or the company.
J. Spearman: Is she okay?
F. Everhart: I spoke to her. She’s pretending that everything is cool, but I think the guy she was out with is an asshole.
The waitress arrives with the check, I take the cash out of my wallet to pay and grab Emmeline’s. Rushing through the restaurant, I pray she’s still outside waiting for a cab or an Uber. When I reach the exit, I watch her climb into a black sedan that speeds away.
At her departure, regret tugs at my conscience. Disappointment settles over me like fog. Do I let her go?
Chapter Twenty-Four
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.
AWalk90: Have you decided yet?
JSpear84: About?
AWalk90: The termination of your contract.
JSpear84: I’m thinking about it. I trusted you, Amy.
The last sentence has more implications than she knows. I trust
ed Emmeline to be different, to be transparent and open.
AWalk90: You have no idea how bad I feel about this. Never in my life have I discussed the company anyone. I assure you, I didn’t breach the NDA though.
JSpear84: Why would you be worried then?
AWalk90: He might not, but he was resistant when I begged him to forget what I said. I just said I’d fit him between one client and the other. One of them being you. But he got upset and … I swear it’s not worth getting into.
JSpear84: You okay?
AWalk90: Always.
JSpear84: Are you lying to me?
AWalk90: Fine, I’m trying to be okay. He seemed nice, you know. I’m usually a good judge of character. Look at you, you don’t present your true self to the outside world.
JSpear84: Neither do you, Amy.
AWalk90: But there’s a good reason behind why you do it, and I trust you.
JSpear84: You do?
AWalk90: Of course I do. You’re just a misunderstood guy who has to hide because you’ve been hurt before.
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.
Maybe Later Page 14