by RC Boldt
I’m dying to know exactly who hurt her.
And wonder if she realizes just how much she once hurt me.
“Good morning. Again.”
I greet Emma Jane, stepping into her office, and place the daisy in her vase. I fill it with water from her small restroom off the corner of her office before placing it on her table.
“Thank you.” Her tone is subdued and almost tentative.
“You’re welcome.” I take a seat in one of the chairs facing her desk. “I also have good news. You have an assistant again.”
Her shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank God.” She flashes me a pained smile. “Lord have mercy on this poor woman because she’s going to have her work cut out for her.”
There’s a knock on the open door, and we both turn to find Keri Mitchell, the intern and Emma Jane’s new temporary assistant, standing there.
“Come in,” I wave her inside and gesture to the chair beside me. “Take a seat and we can fill you in on everything.”
Emma Jane smiles at Keri. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have some help again. I hope you aren’t intimidated by a bit of a larger workload than normal because”—she waves a hand toward three thick files on her desk—“we’re in the process of trying to close a few deals and executing some proposals.”
“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” I rise from my seat. “I look forward to seeing the upcoming proposals in the next few weeks.” With a polite nod and smile, I leave the office.
I can’t lie and say the disappointment of no longer having an excuse to work closely with Emma Jane and offer a helping hand doesn’t weigh heavily on me.
“I know. Love you, too.”
I step forward into the office a few days later, watching as Emma Jane sets her cell phone aside, already jotting notes in the margin of some printouts.
“How’s everything working out?”
Her head snaps up in surprise before she regains her composure. “Oh, everything’s fine. Thank you.”
I reach back and pull the door closed behind me. Stepping closer to the chairs facing where she’s seated at her desk, I lower my voice. “I just wanted to check and see how things were going with Ms. Mitchell.”
“Everything’s coming along well. She’s been a huge help.” Emma Jane drops her pen and leans back slightly. “She’s gone above and beyond, in fact, and asked me to increase the work I’ve been giving her.” She gives a little laugh and shakes her head, a stray strand of hair coming loose from her loose bun. “Guess that’s what being a young twenty-something is all about.”
“Ah, now.” I smile while slipping my hands in my pockets to prevent the further urging of my fingers to slide that piece of hair behind her ear. Because I know if I touch her in any way, it’ll be all over. “You speak like you’re an old fogey already.”
“I turned thirty last year.” She makes a face. “It’s all downhill from here.”
“But you just keep getting more beautiful as you go.”
I have no idea where the hell that came from, but it’s clear that I’ve managed to startle not only myself but her as well.
Clearing my throat, I avert my eyes to her table where there’s a pathetic, wilted daisy. “You should have told me. I would’ve picked one up for you.”
Silence greets my comment, and it lasts so long that I finally turn to look at her. She continues to study me and then parts her lips to respond.
Just when there’s a knock on the door, and it opens.
“Ms. Haywood, I have the—” Keri falters slightly. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart back and forth between me and Emma Jane before tentatively offering, “Should I come back later?”
“No,” Emma Jane answers quickly. “I believe Mr. Montgomery and I are finished.” She shoots me a questioning look.
With a brief nod, I make my way to the door. “I’ll touch base with you on that proposal later, Ms. Haywood.”
23
Emma Jane
Sweet Jesus, give me strength.
I repeat this internally as I track Knox’s exit from my office. He looks so good in that gray suit paired with an emerald-green tie that brings out his eyes. I was instantly transfixed the moment he entered the room.
With effort, I drag my eyes away from him and fix my attention on my assistant. I offer the young woman a smile. “Thanks for all your help with everything, Keri. You’ve been a lifesaver.”
Keri runs a shaky hand over her mousy blond hair which is pulled back in a severe ponytail. She ducks her head and murmurs, “It’s my pleasure.”
She’s dressed in a prim and proper pantsuit, further accentuating her overly thin figure. I’m not sure how to get this poor woman to relax around me, but every interaction we have has me feeling like I instill a near frightening nervousness in her.
“We present this proposal to Mr. Montgomery in a few weeks and this deal could really impact F&F—in a great way—so I want to be sure we have all our ducks in a row.”
“Yes, ma’am. Absolutely.” She takes a seat across from me with her legal pad and pen poised to jot down important notes.
“All right, so we need to…”
“Thanks, again, Keri,” I say with a grateful smile. “Have a great night.”
“You, too, Ms. Haywood.”
She exits my office after a long day of work, and I chuckle softly at her insistence on calling me Ms. Haywood instead of Emma Jane. From the start, I’d told her to feel free to call me by my first name, but she insists on being more formal.
I’m setting the file on my desk when a male voice catches me off guard.
“Know where I can find my workaholic best friend? The one who forgot about our FWOB date tonight?”
My head snaps up, and I stare wide-eyed at Becket. “Oh, no!”
I’d completely lost track of time, and the fact I was supposed to meet Becket for dinner at six thirty had slipped my mind.
It’s close to seven right now.
He grins. “Oh, yes.” Becket places a palm over the center of his chest and lets out a dejected sigh. “The wound cuts so deep.”
Covering my face with my hands, I slump over my desk. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying—”
“To do your job,” he finishes for me, the teasing gone from his voice. Instead there’s understanding. “I get it.”
Suddenly, he’s gently tugging my hands away from my face and I find him crouched beside me. “Hey, it’s okay. I promise.”
“But you had reservations and everything.” My lips twist with regret and self-recrimination.
He raises an eyebrow. “Do you really think Luigi’s won’t let me make another reservation there?”
With a tiny laugh, I shove at his shoulder. “So humble.”
He grins and reaches up to tuck some stray hair behind my ear. “Now come on and let’s get you some dinner.” Helping me up from my chair, he adds, “One cannot live on coffee and sweet tea alone.”
“Speak for yourself,” I tease.
Once I’ve gathered up my belongings and I lock up my office, we head toward the bank of elevators. “Want to order in Chinese?”
A ding sounds, and a door opens for us. Heading inside, I lean against the wall, tip my head back, and close my eyes. “Sounds good.”
“Your place?”
I open my eyes and nod wordlessly, knowing my place is closer than Becket’s. He murmurs his assent and pulls out his phone to begin looking up the restaurant to place the order for delivery.
As the doors begin to close, an arm suddenly shoots out and stops them. Instantly, prickles of awareness roll through me at the sight of the hand whose fingers have telltale nicks and scrapes from home improvement projects.
I just can’t seem to catch a break, and part of me wishes Knox would go back to regarding me with hatred and anger all the time. It was far less complicated then.
“Hey, man,” Becket greets Knox. “Working my girl to the bone, again, huh?”
I feel the weight of Knox’s
eyes on me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“I got her an assistant.”
Becket laughs. “Well, you should know better. Blue always—”
“Takes on more than her fair share of the workload.”
My breath catches at Knox’s words because it’s not so much his response as it is the way he says it. With affection…and maybe even the barest hint of pride.
“I was placing an order for Chinese delivery. We’re heading back to her place if you want to join us.”
My eyes fly to Becket who’s purposely avoiding looking at me.
“Uh, I don’t want to intrude.” Knox’s polite response is a total out.
Becket needs to take it.
Take it, I plead silently. Take. It.
“No intrusion whatsoever.” My best friend gives a dismissive wave. “The more the merrier.”
I’m literally staring a hole in him. Because not once in the eight years we’ve been friends and holding our Friends Without Benefits date nights have we invited anyone else along.
Never. It’s been like an unspoken rule.
Which apparently has changed.
“Just tell me what you normally order, and I’ll submit it right now with ours.” He holds his phone and fixes an expectant look on Knox.
“Sweet and sour chicken,” we both answer in unison.
I freeze, realizing I spoke without meaning to. That I’ve shown my hand—that I distinctly recall what specific dish Knox had normally ordered for Chinese takeout. My eyes fall closed in embarrassment and dismay.
“Sweet and sour chicken it is.” My best friend’s voice is heavy with amusement.
This dinner night has trouble written all over it.
“Why are you getting out my nice wine glasses?” I hiss at Becket, returning them to my kitchen cabinet.
He merely reaches over my head and plucks them back out, holding them over my head out of reach. “Because we should have wine with our dinner.”
“It’s after seven at night.”
He frowns at me with exaggerated seriousness. “Do you have a curfew I’m not aware of?”
Narrowing my eyes, I pointedly ask, “And are you having wine with me?”
“You know I don’t drink.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I level a look at him. Because I know this. Yet… “Then why are you getting two wine glasses?”
His mischievous grin irritates me even more. “For you and—”
“No.” I wag a finger at him. “No, no, no.” Pressing my palms against his chest, I shove to no avail since he’s a Mack truck compared to me. “Go sell your crazy somewhere else.”
The doorbell rings and I hear Knox thanking the delivery person.
“The food’s here,” Knox calls out, his footsteps sounding along the hardwood floor as he draws close to the kitchen.
Becket’s eyes grow wide with surprise and my stomach drops. Because I know that expression.
It’s nothing but trouble.
“I just remembered that I have something urgent to do. Sadly, I’ll have to take my dinner with me.”
My hands fly to my hips while I glare at him. Hard.
He simply grins back sweetly. Dropping a quick kiss to my cheek, he turns and roots through the bags Knox placed on my kitchen counter. Once he finds his meal, he abruptly announces, “Gotta run. You kids have a great night.”
With that, he’s gone, leaving Knox and I standing in stunned silence.
He cocks his head to the side quizzically. “What did he have to do?”
“Something urgent,” I answer in monotone. Because it’s obvious Becket was full of crap.
“Huh.” He nods slowly, and his eyes dart around the kitchen before returning to me. “Look, if you want to eat alone, I understand.”
“No, it’s fine.”
He studies me, those emerald eyes searching, poring over my features. “You don’t have to be polite. We’re both off the clock.”
I exhale loudly. “If you really mean that, then you won’t mind if I change into my sloppiest yoga pants and T-shirt and pour myself an extra-large glass of wine with my dinner?”
The slow smile he gives me begins to turn my insides to mush until I force myself to mentally shake off the effect. “If you’re okay with me losing this tie.”
I offer a faint, tentative smile. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll be right back.”
It’s nearly nine o’clock, and the exhaustion of the day is fully catching up to me. Knox and I have actually had a nice dinner. We’ve stuck to safe topics, luckily. He’s been telling me about the house he purchased in Midtown and the improvements he’s making. The pride in his eyes, the way they light up while he talks about everything, makes it impossible not to be drawn in and entranced by him.
Exactly what I can’t allow to happen.
When he helps me clean up, he notices the stack of mail I’d brought in earlier when the three of us had arrived here. I hadn’t paid attention to it since I’d been so thrown off by Becket inviting Knox over in the first place.
“I got this in the mail the other day as well.”
I turn in question and find him holding a letter with a familiar return address label. My grandfather’s address.
Immediately, dread churns sickly in the pit of my stomach, because Granddad calls me. He never sends me anything formal in the mail.
My eyes flick back and forth between what appears to be an envelope for a formal invitation and Knox’s eyes. “What is it?” I manage to get out.
He appears to hesitate. “An invitation to your father’s sixtieth birthday party.”
Spinning around to face my sink, I grip the edge of it, my knuckles turning white.
“Why would he invite me?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” He sounds confused by my question. “You’re their daughter.”
Tears gather in my eyes, and I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. “I haven’t spoken to my father in eight years.” Knox should know this. Being a businessman in Mobile, it’s a given that he does business with my father.
My admission is met with silence.
I know Granddad means well, but he should know that if I were to show up, my father would raise all sorts of hell.
“Neither have I.”
It takes a moment for Knox’s words to sink in. I raise my head in shock, still facing away. “What?”
He lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I haven’t spoken to your father, aside from a random greeting when we cross paths in public, in years.”
Why? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him this. But I don’t because I can’t afford to open that door I’ve kept locked tightly all these years. Due to Knox’s unexpected and sudden arrival in my life, it already has cracks in it, and feels warped, as if it fails to close securely.
“Are you going?” I ask in nearly a whisper.
“I am.” He pauses briefly. “Your granddad wrote a note in mine, asking me to please consider coming.”
My lips curve upward slightly as I recall Knox always having a soft spot for my granddad.
“If you want to go, I can…” He hesitates. When his hand drops from my shoulder, the loss is instant, and I feel like I’m barraged by a sudden draft of cold, bitter air. “I can drive over with you. So you’re not alone.”
I shake my head sadly. “I haven’t been back in so long.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat to try to cover it up. “He disowned me.”
“You’re his daughter, EJ,” he murmurs quietly. “Nothing can change that. Plus, it’s been a long time. He may be a stubborn old coot, but I know he loves you.”
I let out a humorless laugh. Because I distinctly recall my father’s text messages that fateful day. Love came long after business and his public image.
“At least open it and see.”
Knox’s outstretched hand holding the envelope comes into view. I cautiously accept and stare down at the invitation before I open it.
Out falls a small,
folded note and I instantly recognize my granddad’s handwriting.
My dearest Emma Jane,
I know you’re wondering why I didn’t call and talk to you about this. Your father’s experienced some challenges and his perspective has changed on many things. He’s still a stubborn mule, but his mind is not as narrow as it once was. I’m asking you to strongly consider coming into town for his birthday celebration I’m having at the house.
It would be so nice to have you back home. And before you ask, no, your father doesn’t know I sent this to you. But I believe that it would make his birthday more meaningful to have you present.
Please consider coming, Sweet Pea. If not for him, then for me.
All my love,
Granddad
“Some things never change, huh?” Knox murmurs.
My mouth curves upward in a weak smile. “If you’re referring to the fact that my granddad still calls me Sweet Pea, then no.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I know what he’s going to ask before he voices it.
“So what do you think?”
Staring down at the invitation in my hands, I shake my head. “I think I’m scared.” A derisive sound bubbles up from my throat. “Which is shameful that a grown woman should feel that way about the possibility of attending her own father’s birthday party.”
“I’ll stay by your side.” His offer brings my eyes up to meet his. “I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly.” He clears his throat and steps back to drag a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly. “Plus, I have plenty of room at my place, to save you from having to stay at a hotel.”
“Knox,” I breathe out. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
A crease appears between his brows, and it instantly evokes a powerful urge for me to press the pads of my fingertips to his skin and smooth out that wrinkle. “Why not?”
My shoulders slump. God, this man can be dense. “We have a past.” I wave a hand between us. “We have so much unfinished business. It’s just…not smart.”
“We’ve been fine lately. We’ve worked well together. We’re…” He hesitates before finishing with, “Friends.”