And it has nothing to do with seeing Graham with his girlfriend.
When we enter the building, he stops and faces me. “I guess this is your stop.”
I look around at the students streaming in and out the doors, and down the hallways. “You mean you don’t have class here?” It never occurred to be that he’d been walking me to class.
He shakes his head, smiling, and I notice he has a dimple in his right cheek but not the left one. “How else was I going to be able to talk to you?”
My grip tightens on the strap of my backpack. “That was nice of you.” Lord, I must sound like a dork.
“So, Emily, do you have a boyfriend?”
And then as if fate is trying to tell me something, it’s at that moment I see him. Graham. My response—whatever I might have said—dies on the vine, like a plant denied water, oxygen and sunlight.
Clearly, my reaction upon seeing Graham must have been telling because Cal turns to see who’s captured my attention. He spies Graham in time to see him pushing open the door to the stairwell.
His gaze snaps back to mine. “Do you know him? The guy in the green shirt.”
I fix my expression into something not quite as wide-eyed. “No. I mean, I know him but he’s not my boyfriend.” Only after the words leave my runaway mouth do I realize that’s not what he asked me or would naturally assume.
Gah. What’s wrong with me?
“What I meant to say is that we work together.” My voice fades to a whisper.
Leave it alone, Emily. Don’t say another word.
Cal, my new friend who wants to be more, studies me, his smile gradually fading, his eyes expressing regret. “Gotcha. Well, let me know when you guys aren’t working together anymore.” Pulling a folded piece of paper and a pencil from his jean pocket, he scribbles something on it and then hands it to me. “Here’s my number.”
I take it wordlessly.
“See you around, Emily.”
“Bye,” I reply in a soft voice, turning to watch him exit the building.
What just happened?
Well like everyone else, he thinks something’s going on between you and Graham.
It isn’t a surprise that I don’t like the answer.
An hour and a half later, I pack my stuff up as quickly as I can. Graham isn’t in my class—thank God—but he’s up here somewhere in one of these rooms and I’d rather not run into him if I can help it. I figure it would be best if I got out ahead of the crowds. Or at least blend in with the crowds.
What happened with Cal was the kick in the butt I needed after my little conversation with Graham’s girlfriend. I made a mistake. I know that now. Me in his life and him back in mine was a bad idea. It was insane of me to think he’s ever going to forgive me. That somehow he’ll ever see me as anything other than the girl who upended his life. And accepting the job at Zenith’s was fifty degrees of crazy.
Brandon, the guy who sat beside me in class, seems like a nice guy, but I’d rather not get stuck in a conversation with him, so I bid him a hurried goodbye and slip into the group of people filing out the door. I literally put my head down and take the stairs to the ground floor. If Graham is around, I don’t see him.
Outside, the weather has taken an ugly turn. Clouds now obscure the sun and the wind has picked up, the cool breeze tossing the turning leaves and scattering them across the grounds of the campus. I shiver and wrap my arms around my middle as my purse hangs from my shoulder and my book bag bounces rhythmically against my back.
I start off in the direction of parking lot C, which is the one closest to the science building. I haven’t gone twenty feet when I see Graham standing at the end of the wooden bench near the front. Instinctively, I slow to a crawl, fighting the impulse to bolt in the opposite direction.
Unmoving, he stares at me as if he knew well in advance that I’d soon appear and he planned to be waiting when I did. I glance behind me to see if maybe—hopefully—he’s actually waiting for someone else.
Nope. There are a couple girls giving him the eye in a way that indicates they’d like to get to know him better. When I return my gaze to him, he’s sauntering toward me wearing an expression that’s both unnerving and frustrating because it’s one I can’t read.
Is he angry?
Is he secretly happy to see me?
The last question elicits a mental eye roll although what I deserve is a slap upside my head.
Get a grip, Emily Marie Leighton, he told his girlfriend you’re on par with John Hinckley.
Then what does he want?
I’d swallow but it feels like something’s stuck in my throat. Probably one of my organs. My stomach goes into a free fall for which there’s no bottom. But I refuse to let that stop me, my progress forward undeterred as the distance between us closes.
I greet him first, steeling my nerves. “Graham.”
I’m not afraid of you no matter the disastrous state of my stomach.
He smiles but it’s as cool as the breeze ruffling his hair and sending mine swirling around my face. “I suppose you’re going to tell me this is another coincidence.”
I blink. “Come again?” He’s got to be kidding.
“What’d you do, get ahold of my schedule?”
I’d like to say his accusation is insulting beyond words, but it warrants a response. “Are you out of your mind?” The question escapes my lips on the loud side, drawing a raised-brow look from a girl who just passed. I studiously ignore her and anyone else who might be in earshot, while silently vowing to lower my voice.
“Then I guess it’s my bad luck that I just can’t seem to get away from you, huh?”
The mocking smugness of his reply sets my teeth on edge.
“We have classes in the same building, Graham.” I hope I sound as if I’m barely able to stifle a yawn because that’s what I’m going for despite my teeth grinding and the effort it’s costing me to hold my anger in check. “The only reason we’re talking right now is because you waited for me.” Honestly, four years ago he hadn’t been this full of himself.
He appears unfazed. “Can you blame me? You coming back to New York and transferring to uni here. Now, not only are we working together and attending the same school, but surprise surprise, we have classes at the same time in the same building. You’ve got to admit, that’s a lot of coincidences.”
“I think you’re forgetting that I transferred here last year, before you were even back in the States,” I coolly remind him.
“Yes, you transferred after my mother told you I was returning to the States,” he counters.
“My coming back to New York had nothing to do with you.”
He shrugs and hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, his stance relaxed. “If you say so.”
Pompous ass.
“You know, Graham, I don’t understand you. Why are you even here? Why did you wait for me? Why are you even talking to me now if you’re so sick of seeing me?”
Suddenly, it’s not all fun and games and his smirk disappears. “Because I have to deal with you at work, and now I’m going to have to deal with you here.”
Deal with me? Like I’m some horrible rash or something equally odious. I’ve done nothing but try with him. Show him how sorry I am in every way I can think of. All to no avail. He’s not having it.
“Actually, you don’t have to deal with me. If you’re offended that I have a class in the same building as you, then I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. But don’t worry, the most that might happen is that you’ll see me from a distance, and if that happens, you can simply look the other way.”
“And what about work?” he asks with a lift of his eyebrow.
If I had the same ego I did when I met him, it’d be stomped to the ground by now. My feelings, however, are a whole other matter. “What do you want, Graham? You want me to quit?”
His expression becomes fierce. “I didn’t want you to take the bloody job in the first place.”
“Do you want me to quit?” I’m at the point where I’m prepared to do just that. I’ve finally come to my emotional tipping point.
“Right, and leave John high and dry,” he scoffs.
There’s no pleasing him. In his book, nothing I do is right.
“God, Graham, why are you being like this?”
Something akin to surprise flashes in his eyes. As if my question catches him off guard. Then he laughs and it’s this low, dark sound that cracks around the edges. Not from amusement at all.
“Being like what? Wishing you were a thousand miles away?” he asks with the sardonic lift of an eyebrow.
If there’s one thing I can say about Graham it’s that he doesn’t feign a blow. He goes right for the exposed nerve, of which—when it comes to him—I have many.
“Trying to hurt me.”
He shakes his head, his laugh now a rumble in his throat. “This may come as a shock to you, Emily, but I’d have to care enough about you to want to hurt you…and I don’t.”
That spins me around, literally, and I’m walking swiftly in the other direction. Not toward the parking lot where my car is parked but blindly going anywhere that he’s not.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. The only thing worse than crying over a guy who treats you like shit is crying over him when he’s there to witness it.
Chapter 17
Ah shit. Shit shit shit.
I stand there, running both hands through my hair as I decide whether to go after her. The look on her face—
Ah fuck! I can’t get the image out of my head. The way her expression crumpled and the stark pain in her eyes. Without giving it further thought, I start after her, catching up with her before she’s out of sight.
“Emily,” I say, lightly clasping her arm near the elbow.
Her response is to jerk her arm away, quickening her pace, thus forcing me to lengthen my stride. I’m not going to chase her down, but she can’t outrun me. She must realize that.
“Emily, will you please stop so I can talk to you.” I’d rather not speak to her back. Although the view isn’t bad from here. I rarely see her out of her server’s uniform or with her hair loose much less curled. She looks good. Really good.
Jesus Christ, man. Get your bloody mind out of the gutter.
It’s bad enough the guys had been buzzing around her like flies. The one I’d seen her talking to hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her before he’d struck up a conversation with her. Yeah, I’d seen him sizing her up before he’d made his move. I still don’t have a good read on their situation, whether they know each other or not. But then, it’s none of my damned business, is it?
Emily stops and spins around so abruptly we almost collide.
“What, Graham? What do you want?” Tears streak her face and she looks like she’s close to losing it completely. “Don’t worry, I’m going to hand in my notice as soon as I get home. Now you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”
“Emily, just hear me out for a minute.” I’m not even sure what I’m going to say but I know I have to say something. As much as I thought I wanted her to hurt, this is not what I want. I don’t want to make her cry. I don’t want to be the one who puts that look in her eyes.
“What, Graham? What?” she cries, swiping at the tears running down her flushed cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” I say softly, my gut twisting.
She makes a choked sound in her throat and more tears flood her beautiful eyes. “Really? I’d think this would make you happy. That you’d be overjoyed. I’m the heartless bitch who got you in trouble, right? I lied to you and you’re never going to forgive me. I get that now. Nothing I can do will ever change your mind. As long as you live, I’ll always be that girl—the one who ruined your life, right?”
Jesus Christ. She drives me absolutely crazy. I shouldn’t feel bad for her but right now all I want to do is pull her into my arms and…just hold her. Run my hand through her hair and down her back, and tell her everything is going to be alright. I shouldn’t feel like the villain. But that’s exactly how I feel. Like shit.
“I don’t think you’re a heartless bitch,” I say gruffly. “And I’m not going to spend the rest of my life hating you. You were young. You made a mistake.” I hear myself repeating the same thing my mum said to me feeling a level of surprise that I actually mean it. I’m not simply parroting words to ease her misery and assuage my guilt.
Red-rimmed eyes downcast and lashes damp, she gives a sniff and shakes her head. “You don’t mean that.”
I exhale a long breath and rub the back of my neck. “I do. I do mean it.”
She lifts her gaze to mine. “That’s right, you don’t care enough about me to want to hurt me. You just wish I were a thousand miles away.”
Having my own words thrown back at me makes me realize what a bastard I can be. It doesn’t matter that I have ample reason not to be nice to her, I didn’t need to be cruel.
“Look, I don’t know what you want from me, Emily. I’ve done everything I can to put what happened behind me and now it seems you’re there every time I turn around. Seeing you again. Working with you. Finding out about you and my mum. You’re not making this easy.”
She visibly swallows and stands up taller, tugging her purse strap higher up on her shoulder. “I want to apologize. I need you to know and believe how sorry I am. I never intended to get you in trouble. When I found out you’d been arrested—” Her voice breaks off as if overcome with emotion. After a pause, she continues. “If I could, I would have taken your place. You didn’t deserve what happened to you, and I’ll regret what I did for the rest of my life.”
I’m finding it difficult to swallow. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I didn’t think her apology would go down quite like this—with both ease and discomfort. Maybe because I’m finally ready to hear it and it causes something inside me to splinter. An emotion that’s as frightening as my anger toward her had always been a known quantity. It’d been comforting. It’d been what I was rightly supposed to feel. This, what I’m feeling right now, is a complication I don’t need. It’s one I don’t want.
“I believe you.”
She stares at me as if searching for something in my face that might contradict those words.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “And I understand if you’ll never be able to forgive me.”
Then I utter the words I never thought would ever come out of my mouth. “I do, Emily. I forgive you.”
Tears blur my eyes again as my body tenses up.
I forgive you.
Coming from Graham, those words are a gift. My salvation.
All I can do is stare at him, my heart in my throat and my nerves hypersensitive, leaving me feeling exposed and raw.
“Thank you,” I reply, barely able to choke out the words. “You don’t know what that means to me.”
He glances briefly away, his Adam’s apple pronounced against his lightly tanned throat. His discomfort is palpable. It’s as if he doesn’t want me to see this side of him, a side I’m not sure existed anymore.
“And I’ll quit Zenith’s. I’ll get another job. It shouldn’t be that hard. Maybe they’ll take me back at the library.” I know I’m sort of babbling but I want him to know that I won’t be a thorn in his side anymore. Like he said, he’s tried to put everything behind him and having to work with me is a reminder of one of the worst times in his life. And no matter how noble my intentions, it was incredibly selfish of me to insinuate myself back into that life.
His response to my offer is swift. “No, you don’t have to do that,” he says, shaking his head, the movement and wind ruffling his hair.
I shift so that my hair is blowing away from my face. “I know I don’t have to but you were right, I shouldn’t have taken the job in the first place. You shouldn’t have to share your place of work with me.”
I’ll miss the extra money and the feeling of independence at not having to rely on my parents for my walk
-around money, but that’s small potatoes in the larger scheme of things.
“What I want more than anything is to leave the past in the past and move on. And I think I can do that now. What I don’t want is for John to have to hire and train another server.” The corner of his mouth edges up a smidgen, creating the barest hint of a smile.
I don’t know what to say. Forget the notion of us working together not being a good idea, it might turn out to be downright crazy. I feel more vulnerable to him now than when I’d been on the receiving end of many of his cruel and hurtful barbs. Ten minutes ago.
“Are you sure?” I ask tentatively.
God, I’m weak.
“Yes, I’m sure. You’re good at your job and everyone at work likes you. I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face. Don’t worry, everything will be okay.” He gives me what I assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile. It does the opposite, causing my heart to flutter.
Not a good sign.
So no hugging because that would be super awkward and wholly inappropriate. Weirder still would be if we shook hands, so I keep my hands to myself, restlessly rubbing two fingers down the flap of my brown leather purse while nodding repeatedly. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at work then.”
“Right, Thursday,” he says, giving me a little salute, his lips compressed as if he’s trying not to smile.
I turn and begin to walk in the opposite direction, toward the parking lot. I walk a couple feet when I hear his footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder and sure enough, we’re going in the same direction. Because things weren’t awkward enough before.
“You parked over there?” He tips his chin toward parking lot C.
“Yep.” I slow and in a few strides, he’s at my side. The guy just forgave me. It’d be rude for me to reject his company. We’re walking to our cars. Nothing’s going to happen.
We walk side-by-side for a beat before he remarks casually, “We never did get to talk.”
I glance sharply up at him. “Talk about what?” I think we’ve done plenty of talking today. At least the kind where each of us talks and the other listens without World War Three breaking out. Although, it had been touch and go there for a while.
Forever With You Page 15