My mom just left on a trip with some of her friends, but as soon as she’s back next week, I’m going to beg her to take Tanner for the weekend, so I can fuck Em on every possible surface in my house from morning to night.
Maybe that will be a good time to arrange something special to tell her how I feel. She deserves for it to be more than just a blurted-out post-coital admission.
Someone slaps on my shoulder and I flinch, my heart jumping until I see it’s Ryan. “Shit, man.”
He chuckles, slapping my shoulder once more before letting go. “Dude, I’ve been calling you across the parking lot since you stepped foot outside the building. Looks like you were daydreaming with your head in the clouds.”
I try to glare at him but can’t keep the smile from spreading, and he shakes his head. Because he isn’t wrong. I barely notice my surroundings these days. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about the party next week. Harper’s been busting my ass to make sure everyone’s coming.”
Harper and Ryan had an unconventional start to their relationship, but they are quite the couple. Despite their age difference, amongst other things, they worked things out and are happy. It’s hard to miss whenever I see them together.
“She still hanging in there?” I check my watch, something I’ve already done a million times since my training session ended and Coach held me back to talk some more strategy for the next few months as we prep for the Olympics next year.
Ryan nods. “She is. Driving me crazy with her need to organize a birthday party for me that I don’t even want when she’s eight months pregnant, but it makes her happy. And that’s all I need.”
I’m starting to understand how that works. The need to make the other person happy, no matter what. I’d do a lot to see Em happy.
Apparently, I was lost in my thoughts again because Ryan pokes my shoulder. Hard.
“You’re bringing Millie to the party, right? Harper can’t wait to meet her.”
That snaps me out of my thoughts for good. “Oh yeah?”
“Yup.” Ryan gets his car keys out of his pockets. “Hunter’s been telling us all about her, and I think Millie might have another fangirl in Harper. She’s been watching her videos and whatnot, talking about how awesome she is.”
I groan. “Hunt’s got a big mouth.”
“He does, but he means well.”
“I know.” I pause. “But yes, I was going to ask her if she wants to come with us.”
“Good. About time we finally meet her. Harper said you’ve been selfish with Tanner and Millie, and that it’s really time for her to find a girlfriend out here.”
We both laugh at that. I have no doubt Harper would say something like that.
The lovesick expression on his face is unmistakable though, and I wonder if I’ll look like this one day too when I’m talking about Em. Or maybe I already do? Especially when she’s pregnant like Harper. An image of Em with a child growing inside her belly—our child—fills my chest with a lightness that’s oddly energizing.
Ryan laughs. “Shit, Noah was right. It’s impossible to have a conversation with you these days. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We part ways, and I head home more eager than before.
“Honey, I’m home.” It’s super cheesy, but I can’t help myself. My conversation with Ryan has only cemented my feelings for Em, and I feel like yelling it from the rooftops.
Em’s quiet footsteps sound on the floor when I toe off my shoes. I turn around with a smile on my face, ready to pull her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her, maybe more depending on how long Tanner’s nap will last.
But my smile drops the second I see her.
Her purse is strapped across her upper body, her laptop bag on the floor next to her as she struggles to put on her shoes. Even though I’m still a few feet away, I see her hands shaking.
“Em, what’s going on?” I rush toward her but stop in my tracks as she lifts her head and glares at me.
“I can’t believe you did this to me. After everything that went down last week and all the promises you made.” She’s breathing hard, still yanking on her shoe. “I told you how important today’s appointment is.”
My mind races, my eyes going to my watch. “What are you talking about? There’s still over an hour before you have to leave.”
“I had to leave half an hour ago. I called you a million times.” She pinches her lips together. “You said you’d be here. You promised, Jace.”
Shit, not again. I pull out my phone and see that she's right. Missed calls, messages, and voicemail notifications.
“Crap. I’m sorry, Em.” I brush my hand through my hair, feeling like an ass. “But I don’t understand. It says three ten on the calendar. I checked it ten times to make sure I got the correct time.”
She finally got her shoe on and storms into the kitchen. I follow her, shaking my head as if that would help me make sense of this bizarre situation.
This whole conversation has already left a sour taste in my mouth, and I flinch when Em reaches the calendar and stabs it with her finger.
“There. One thirty.” She stabs it a few more times as I get closer. “They’re never going to hire me now.”
I squint to see the numbers on the calendar. “Em, it says three ten.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She shakes her head, still pointing at the numbers. “This is the only thing I’ve ever asked of you, and now it’s all over. You’ve ruined everything.”
Her nostrils flare, and her mouth is pulled into a tight line. She stomps her foot on the floor and hits her fist on her thigh. “Damn it, I’m so angry with you. I’ve asked for one thing. One thing. This was my only chance.”
Tears build in her eyes but she locks her jaw, from the looks of it, willing them to go away before they spill over. Trying to stay strong because she thinks she needs to be.
All the while, I’m confused, still not understanding what’s going on.
She starts walking back and forth behind the counter.
Then something she said registers.
“What do you mean that this was your only chance? And hiring you?” Cold dread washes over me as my mind tries to make sense of this when there’s only one possible answer. But I don’t want to accept that. “What was so important that you missed?”
That stops her in her tracks. Instead of continuing to glare at me, her gaze strays to the floor.
I take a step closer, my throat suddenly tight. “Em? What’s going on? What appointment was it?”
She mumbles something I can’t hear.
“What was that?” I’m trying to stay calm, but I suddenly have a sickening feeling in my stomach, and it makes my blood boil. I hate when people hide things from me.
Lifting her head, she looks at me, holding her wobbly chin high. “My audition for Kinder Street.”
Under different circumstances, I would have applauded her for holding her head high, for standing up for herself. But right now, the thought of her leaving us, of leaving me, pushes me over the edge, and a wave of anger rushes through me so violently, I have to take a step back.
What the actual fuck?
She was going to audition for Kinder Street? Today?
“Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Were you planning on leaving this whole time? Was this just a game to you?” I’m trying my hardest to keep my voice level, but I don’t think I’m very successful.
I feel like I just got kicked in the balls.
Em averts her gaze and tugs at the collar of her shirt. “What? No, of course not. I was going to tell you when I got the job.”
“The show is on the other side of the fucking country, Em. I know what this means.”
That shuts her up, and I’m glad. I really need a minute.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
Normally, I like to pride myself on my self-control. Whenever I have to deal with anger or other negative emotions, I’m a
ble to wrap them up nicely and let them all out in the pool or at the gym. Physical outlets are my go-to form of therapy.
I can’t even remember the last time I was ready to blow up like this.
Losing the race last week was brutal, yes, but that was frustration and disappointment geared toward me.
This time, it’s Em.
All Em. If she gets the job, when will she look after Tanner? Or would she work on the weekends? No, that doesn’t make sense. The only option would be during the day . . . instead of being here with Tanner. And of course, it would mean she’d be leaving me as well.
“Were you going to tell me in the same breath that you quit your job here and left us?” The calmness in my voice is a tad eerie even to my own ears, and I think she notices it too as she gapes at me with her mouth slightly open.
“No, no, no. That’s not how it is at all.” She pauses for a moment, and then she squints at me, her brow lowering. “Also, you were the one who told me to chase my dreams.”
“Oh, now it’s my fault too that you were planning on leaving us? Because it’s not already bad enough that you blame me for missing your audition?”
Why the fuck would she leave us—leave me—when it’s been so good?
Or am I the only one feeling that?
“But it is your fault.” She raises her voice and throws her hands up in the air.
“Maybe next time you should write the numbers in the correct fucking order.”
The words are out of my mouth, and I regret them the second I say them. Shit.
Em flinches, her eyes glazing over as she swallows loudly and nods. When she closes her eyes for a long moment and presses her lips together, I want to punch myself in the face for that asshole comment.
I take a step toward her and her eyes snap open. She immediately holds her hands up to warn me off, stepping around me and making a beeline for the front door.
“Em, wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was out of line.”
She spins around, her cold gaze hitting me like an ice storm. “It was. Especially after everything I told you about my parents and how they made fun of me. I trusted you and gave you my heart, but I should have known better. The only way you can feel better about yourself is by making others feel less.”
I trusted you and gave you my heart.
What is she talking about?
“I . . . I have to go.”
I’m too stunned to reply, too frozen in spot to go after her as the door shuts behind her.
Ironically, she shuts it quietly.
The opposite of what I’m feeling right now.
Everything inside me is loud and angry.
The only way you can feel better about yourself is by making others feel less.
I don’t do that. I don’t fucking do that.
And she’s planning on leaving us. Leaving Tanner. Leaving . . . me.
I go in search of the baby monitor to check on Tanner and take it downstairs with me to the gym to deal with this the only way I know.
Physical exhaustion.
I really hope he’ll sleep for a very long time, because this will take a while to work through if it’s even possible at all.
Because Em is leaving.
Damn it.
Twenty-Nine
Emilia
Nicole took one look at me this morning and told me to take a shower. Apparently, we’re going somewhere. I didn’t take a shower but left the house with her. I mean, what else are hats for?
My best friend has been with me through tears, ice cream attacks, and blank staring-into-nothing episodes all week. I call this phase PJ1—post-Jace week one.
It’s been interesting, to say the least. My emotions have been all over the place, and I can never be sure if I might burst into spontaneous bawling or not.
Two days ago, I got teary-eyed at the supermarket when I saw the granola bar Jace likes—banana and peanut butter chocolate chips.
Long story short, I’ve been a mess.
I texted Jace the day after our fight and told him I was sick and couldn’t work, and I’ve been avoiding his calls and messages. I’m actually not even sure if I have any sick days, so maybe he fired me in one of the voicemails he left me.
I’m not sure when I’ll have the guts to listen to his voice or read his messages.
Thinking about him is already painful enough.
Add missing out on my dream job on top of that, and my heart’s been broken. My spirit crushed.
Nicole is quiet as we hike up the trail in Tilden Regional Park. It’s still as gorgeous as I remember. The path up the hill is rocky but well worth the view when you’re at the top.
I was really hoping that she was right and getting outside would help. It hasn’t so far, but at least I’m getting some exercise, and I’m safe from food-induced meltdowns.
We’ve been up here for a while now, sitting on a bench, staring into the distance—thanks to a rare clear sky. My thoughts are tripping all over themselves, but it’s not like I’ve been able to contain them anyway. They’ve been eating at me day and night.
My dream job . . . gone.
My dream guy . . . unclear. But for now . . . gone.
It’s too much.
“All right. That’s all the time you get to wallow.” Nicole turns her body to face me, propping her arm on the back of the bench.
“Mmm.” My perfect reply lately. I’ve discovered it’s pretty versatile.
“Millie, look at me.” Her gaze is soft, one corner of her mouth slightly lifted. “You’ve been absolutely miserable. I know what he did wasn’t okay, but don’t you think you should at least try to talk to him? Not to mention, you technically still have a job.”
A sad sigh moves past my lips. “I know.”
I’m a coward with a capital C. My hurt pride mixed with a healthy dose of guilt is a real killer.
Because not only do I miss Jace, but I miss Tanner with my whole being too.
Telling Jace I’m sick and can’t work wasn’t a total lie because Nicole is right, I’ve been absolutely miserable. A broken heart should get you some sick leave. It takes a lot longer, and is far more painful than any other injury or sickness I’ve ever had in my life.
And instead of getting better, it feels like it’s only getting worse every day.
The longing to be with Tanner, the yearning for the man I’ve fallen crazy in love with over the last few months. It’s so much, too much. My chest feels like it’s been robbed of something vital, and is consequently withering away without it. Escaping to a dark place where hope is a foreign word. Leaving me with no control.
No matter how many times I try to smile or say I’m doing okay, it never reaches my center. My body is disconnected, the link to my heart severed, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve lost a part of my essence.
I could have forgiven him for being late, even though I was incredibly mad and disappointed about that. But everything that came after?
His anger, the words he spoke to me, and the look on his face as he said them. The furious glare he shot me, his eyes stormy and cold as he dropped his hands to his sides to form clenched fists.
Then the sudden stillness when the realization of his words hit him. The color fleeing from his face as he reached out to me.
But the damage had been done.
For twenty years, I’d heard my parents berate me, mock me, dismiss me. Their words hurt, but they’ve never come from any place but self-centeredness and loathing. With Jace? I felt he’d accepted me for who I am, dyslexia and all.
Maybe next time you should write the numbers in the correct fucking order.
But I’d been wrong. Very wrong.
He was supposed to be my person. His opinion matters.
My own guilt over not telling him about my audition is constantly in the back of my mind too, but I’m ignoring that. Jace's faith in me was what helped me try. What I don’t understand is why he got so angry and so suddenly.
If h
e’d let me explain, I would have told him that I wanted to see if I could work out something with the producers. Maybe I could work from one of their West Coast studios instead of the East Coast? Or sell them my program?
To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. This has been my dream for so long, I didn’t really think much past that thought and what consequences might lie on the other side.
Now, the man who had been my advocate, became my enemy. The man who had disappeared for days after his lost race, had no time to listen to me.
Clearly, ignorance is my biggest friend right now, especially when Jace might have been right about a few things, after all.
Hindsight truly is a bitch.
“What if we can’t work things out? That scares me.” The words are so quiet, the wind almost carries them away.
Nicole reaches out and squeezes my arm. “There’s only one way to find out. You need to know what you want, and I think we both know what that is. I understand why you didn’t tell him about the audition at the beginning, but he sees things differently. You butted heads, it happens.”
“Just like that, huh?” I close my eyes and chuckle.
“It can be.”
My reply dies in my throat when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I get it out, staring at the area code.
Nicole peeks at the screen. “New York?”
I shrug and push the green button. “Hello?”
“Miss Davis?” An unfamiliar male voice greets me.
“Yes.”
“Hi. My name is Richard Moore.”
Richard Moore? Why does that name sound familiar?
“Hi, Mr. Moore.”
“Please call me Richard.”
“Okay, Richard. How can I help you?”
“I understand this might not be the norm, but I’m calling to talk to you about an opportunity.” He pauses for a moment. “I’m with Moore Media.”
My wide eyes find Nicole’s as I squeeze the living daylights out of her hand, because holy shit.
That’s why his name rang a bell.
I stand up so quickly that I get dizzy as a result.
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