by Swan, T L
“Did you miss me?”
Instantly I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I stay silent as I battle the lump in my throat. I hate that he makes me feel so weak and vulnerable. I pull my hands out of his grip. I need to create some distance between us.
“Em.” He frowns. “I . . .” It’s clear that he has no idea what to say. “When I saw that image of you kissing Jake—”
“Jameson,” I stammer.
He holds his hand up to signify silence, and I close my mouth. “Something snapped inside of me. I was so thrown that it upset me so deeply that I . . .” He frowns as he remembers it. “I was furious—firstly with you, but then with myself.”
Our eyes are locked.
“I was going through so much shit at work, and the very last person on earth that I thought would lie to me . . . was you.”
I drop my head in shame.
“And then when I calmed down after a few days and realized that you had been set up, the future mapped itself out to me.”
I frown.
“There is always going to be someone like Ferrara who is prepared to step on you to hurt me.”
My heart drops.
“And I don’t want that for you.”
“Jay,” I whisper sadly.
“I don’t want you to be married to a workaholic who has to travel all the time and is stressed out of his head. I don’t want you to have to remind your husband not to drink too much or stop being rude to people because he’s too busy to care. I don’t want you to have to remind your husband that he’s neglecting you.”
“Your bottle of wine.” The waiter appears out of nowhere. He opens it and pours us both a glass.
“Thank you,” I reply. My eyes go back to meet Jameson’s.
The waiter leaves us alone.
“I don’t want you to come second to Miles Media. I don’t want you to ever come second to anything.”
“But—”
“Let me finish, please,” he demands.
I sit back in my chair, annoyed that he wants to speak first.
“The thing is, if you’re with me—married to me—your life is going to be all those things.”
The lump in my throat gets big.
“I love you too much to let you live that life, Em.”
He’s ending it again. My eyes fill with tears.
He takes my hand over the table and lifts it to his mouth and gently kisses it. “Don’t cry. I hate that you’ve cried over me.”
I blink to try and get rid of these stupid tears.
“I made a decision to protect you from that life. To push you away. Because I knew that one day, you would eventually be unhappy . . . and I just can’t live with that.”
“It wasn’t your decision to make,” I whisper angrily.
He frowns. “My job is to look after you and make the hard calls, ones that you can’t make for yourself.”
“Jameson.” I stare at him through tears.
“But something happened while I was away from you.” He leans in and cups my face in his hand. “I realized that I didn’t want any of those things either.”
My eyes search his.
“I can’t live without you, Em. I’ve been so fucking miserable that it’s been unbearable.”
He leans in and kisses me softly; his eyes search mine as he dusts his thumb over my bottom lip. “If you don’t want me as I am now, I’ll resign from Miles Media immediately, and we can move to bumfuck nowhere and, I don’t know, live in a fucking tent somewhere.”
I smirk. “You idiot,” I whisper.
He smiles as he holds my face in his hand.
“I love you how you are. I don’t want you to change anything.”
“You do?”
“But I don’t . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my feelings. “How can I move on from how you’ve treated me?”
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t just pretend that this hasn’t happened, Jameson. You’ve hurt me too deeply.”
“I know; I don’t want you to,” he stammers. “But can’t we just . . .” He shrugs. “Start dating again? Take it slow.”
I stare at him as confusion fills me.
“I know it’s going to take time to get back to where we were, but we have the rest of our lives. We can date and get to know each other properly this time.”
I sit back as I consider his proposal, and I sip my wine. “You know, I always imagined that I would find my dream guy and fall in love, and then it would come to this big cheesy climax.”
He scrunches up his nose. “Cheesy climax? That just sounds wrong.”
I giggle as I imagine what he must be thinking about. “No, I meant proposal.”
“You want a cheesy proposal?” He frowns. “Wouldn’t you want a romantic proposal?”
“Not really. My point is, this isn’t how I imagined things would go.”
“Me neither.” He takes my hands in his. “Far from it. I’m officially an idiot. Give me another chance, Em. I won’t fuck it up, I promise.”
I stare at him.
“I love you; you love me.” He shrugs. “We can work through this, and then hopefully in time, you can forget it ever happened, and you can live happily ever after with an outdoorsy Kung Fu Panda.” He smiles hopefully.
“You’re an idiot, Mr. Miles.”
“Who’s hopelessly in love with you.” He leans over and kisses me softly, and I feel my resistance fade. “I love you, cheesecake,” he whispers.
“Don’t call me fucking cheesecake.”
He chuckles against my lips. “Too far?”
“Way too far.”
Chapter 26
We walk down the street toward my apartment, hand in hand. Jameson is being overattentive and talking nonstop, and I am quiet. I’m annoyed that with just one dinner meeting, I find myself here with him.
I’m officially a pushover.
Weak as water.
His phone beeps with a text, and he shuffles around in his pocket to retrieve it and smiles. “Tristan.” He reads the text out loud “How did it go?”
I roll my eyes. “Text back, ‘Not out of the woods yet. Still may be found dead in a ditch tomorrow.’”
Jameson smirks. “No, I’m not writing that. If it actually happens, I don’t want you to go to prison.” He turns to face me and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “You wouldn’t kill me.” He leans in and kisses me softly.
My eyes hold his. “Wouldn’t I?”
He smiles and then takes my hand as we walk toward the door. I stop on the spot. “Good night,” I announce.
“What?”
“You’re not coming in.”
“Why not?”
“Jameson, I am still eighty percent pissed off with you.”
“Yes. I know. Let me make it up to you.” He smiles darkly.
I pull out of his arms and step back from him. “There is nothing sexual that you could do that would make up for how you have treated me.”
His face falls.
“When I agreed to try again, it was just that . . . to try again. I’m not promising anything, and I don’t know how this is going to turn out. I honestly don’t know if we can get back what we had. The morning you left me after the second stopover, you broke something between us. I have never been so upset in all of my life. It was devastating for me. Having sex with you now is the very last thing that I want to do.”
“Em,” he whispers. “I couldn’t talk to you because it killed me to push you away. I was battling myself over it.”
“Good night, Jameson.”
He looks around in a fluster. “Well, when will I see you again?”
I shrug. “It’s Thursday, and I’m away for the weekend, so next week, I guess.”
“Next week?” he huffs. “That’s like four days away.”
“Is it?” I reply flatly as I begin to dig in my bag for my keys. I really do need to get a better system in this damn handbag; it’s like the fucking Bermuda Triangle in here.
“Well, that’s too long,” he stammers. “I haven’t seen you for a month. I need more time with you.”
“Take it or leave it,” I reply.
“Em?”
I turn and kiss him softly on the lips, and he snaps his arms around me. We stay still for a few minutes in each other’s arms, holding on tight and needing the closeness that the other provides. I’ve missed him desperately, and it would be so easy to take him upstairs right now.
No . . . I have serious trust issues that I need to deal with. He needs to deal with.
“I’ll sleep on the lounge,” he whispers. “I can’t be away from you for one more night. Don’t ask that of me.”
I pull away, knowing where this is going if I stay in his arms. “Good night, Jameson.”
His eyes search mine as he silently begs to come upstairs.
I force a smile and open my door as he stands on the pavement. I give him a wave and disappear into the elevator as he watches on. The elevator doors close, and I blow out a breath of relief.
Good girl . . . stay strong.
I put my lipstick on and smile at my reflection in the mirror. Jameson called me when he got home last night to say good night. It feels strangely good to have him back in my life . . . but for how long?
I have this annoying little voice in my psyche that keeps reminding me what he did and how badly he treated me. I’m trying to listen to his reasoning and trust what he’s saying, but it’s hard to pretend that nothing has happened between us.
It wasn’t nothing; it was Armageddon, and my entire world crashed at my feet. I don’t like the way I depend on Jameson Miles for my happiness.
It won’t happen again; I won’t allow it . . . even if that means holding him at arm’s length for the rest of my life . . . or however long we’re together.
See, there it is again.
Negative thoughts . . . ugh.
I make my way downstairs with my luggage for the weekend with me and out the front doors to see Jameson leaning up against the wall—navy suit, gorgeous face, and a swoony smile . . . just for me. “Good morning, my beautiful girl.”
“Hi.” I smile up at him.
He leans down and takes my face in his hands and kisses me, and I feel my knees weaken underneath me. “How did my girl sleep?” He takes my hand in his and takes my suitcase from me.
“Fine, thanks.”
“Can we get a civilized lift to work today?” he asks.
I glance over and see Alan and the limo parked at the curb across the street. “Um.” I frown. “You go with Alan. I want to catch the bus.”
He raises an eyebrow as if unimpressed. “Okay, bus it is.”
“You don’t have to walk me to work, Jameson. I’m quite capable of getting myself there.”
“I know; I just want to spend the twenty minutes with you. I’m not seeing you all weekend, remember?” He gives me a sexy wink, and my stomach does a nervous flip. We walk to the bus stop hand in hand.
“Have you heard anything more about Lara Aspin and Hayden?”
“No. They’ve been charged, but the court case won’t be for a while. I can’t believe you solved it. You don’t know how grateful I am to you.”
I smile, feeling proud of myself.
“How do you like your new job?” he asks.
I shrug. “It’s great.”
His eyes hold mine. “Great as in ‘really great,’ or great as in ‘it will do’?”
“Great as in ‘I’m getting used to it.’”
“Why don’t you come back to Miles Media?”
“No. I’ll be keeping our work lives separate from now on.”
“Hmm.” He frowns, unimpressed. “We’ll see.”
The bus arrives, and we make our way on. It’s crowded today, and I find a seat, but Jameson has to stand. He’s squashed between a smelly man and a woman who looks like she has rabies. I sit and watch him and the horror on his face as he watches the people around him. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing. Eventually the bus pulls to our stop, and he gets off in a rush.
“That’s it,” he scoffs as he brushes his suit off like the snob that he is. “No more fucking buses. We need to be disinfected right now. Did you see the people on that fucking bus?”
I giggle. “That was just a bad trip.”
“I mean it, Emily,” he snaps. “No more fucking buses. Alan is now your driver. Over my dead body are we catching another bus.”
“Yes, boss.” I smile as he takes my hand in his, and we begin our walk to work.
“What time does your flight leave tonight?” he asks.
“Three.”
His face falls. “You’re going early?”
“Yes. I have a half day today.”
“I was going to take you to the airport.” He frowns as he stares down at me. “I have a board meeting at four; I can’t get out of it.”
“That’s fine.”
“Shit . . . maybe I can cancel?”
“Jameson, it’s fine. You are not canceling a meeting to take me to the airport. Stop it. You will see me when you see me.”
He stares at me as he processes my words. “Alan will collect you.”
I nod, knowing that if I don’t agree, he will in fact cancel his meeting. “Okay.”
We arrive at my work, and he turns me toward him. “You’ll call me the minute you land?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll call you before I go to bed.”
He stares at me.
“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask.
“My brothers are all going to Vegas tonight.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They’re chasing booze and wild women.”
My face falls.
He wraps his arms around me. “I already have my wild woman; I’m not interested in what they are looking for.”
I smile up at him, surprisingly grateful that he’s not going.
“Will you miss me?” he whispers.
“Probably not.”
“You probably could try and be flirtier in our conversations, you know?”
“Could I?” Our lips touch, and he kisses me softly.
“Are you sure you have to go?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yes, Jameson.”
“I love you,” he whispers.
My heart somersaults in my chest at hearing those precious words. “Have a nice day.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“But that’s all you’re getting.” I kiss him quickly and pull out of his arms. “Please stop pressuring me. I’ll call you tonight.”
He puts his two hands into his suit pockets and smiles sexily as he watches me walk into the building.
I get into the elevator with a hammering heart and flushed cheeks.
Why is he so damn gorgeous?
I walk out of work just after one o’clock and see the limo and Alan standing beside it. He smiles warmly and opens the back door as if gesturing for me to get in. I smile and make my way over to him. I haven’t heard from Jameson all day and wasn’t sure if Alan was in fact coming to collect me. “Hello.”
He smiles warmly. “Hello, Emily. It’s so lovely to see you.”
I get into the back of the limo and find a lone red rose on the back seat, waiting for me.
Oh.
I smile and inhale it deeply; a beautiful perfume fills the space. The car pulls out from the curb, and I get a vision of myself stomping on the yellow roses the other night. Maniac.
I was half hoping that Jameson would be in the car waiting for me. Should I even be going away right now? Isn’t sorting this out with him more important?
No.
You had these plans before he decided to waltz back in . . . stick to them.
I should call and thank him, though. I dial his number.
“Hello,” his sexy voice purrs down the line.
My stomach fl
utters at the sound of his voice. “Hi,” I breathe.
“Are you with Alan?”
“I am. Thank you for my rose.”
“So red is better?”
“Seems that way.” I feel my face blush in embarrassment.
“Mental note to never buy anything yellow ever again.”
I giggle, embarrassed.
“You have a good weekend,” he eventually replies.
“You too.”
“I’m not going to call you this weekend.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Your words are playing on my mind.”
“What words?”
“You told me not to force this between us.”
I listen.
“I’m stepping back.”
My heart drops. “You’re giving up?”
“No. Just the opposite; I’m making plans for our future. But I understand that you need time. Me forcing you to forgive me before you’re ready may not be the smartest move.”
I smile softly as I listen, hope blooming in my chest.
“You just call me whenever you want to speak to me,” he says.
“Okay.”
“And that could be fifty times a day. I’ll be waiting for your call like a lovesick schoolboy.”
I smile as I hang on the line . . . I really do want to see him this weekend.
No.
“Okay.”
“Goodbye, Emily.”
“Goodbye,” I whisper. I hang up, smell my rose, and smile sadly out the window as New York flies by. I feel like I’m in a subspace. Caught between two men, each with their own memory—one of Jameson Miles’s coldhearted dismissal and the other of playful Jim’s overwhelming love. Each time I feel myself leaning toward one, the other jumps in my way. I’m not sure how to turn this off, but I need to work it out . . . and sooner rather than later.
Half an hour later the limo pulls up at the airport, and Alan opens my door. I clutch my rose in my hand, knowing that I can’t take it in.
Alan retrieves my bag from the trunk. “Would you like me to carry this in for you?” he asks.
“No, thank you.” I look down at my rose. I feel strangely attached to it and can’t stand the thought of it dying. “Would you be able to put the rose in some water for me, please?” I ask him.
He smiles warmly. “Of course.” He takes it from me. “I’ll put it in water at Mr. Miles’s apartment for you.”