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Pain lances through me and I blink back stinging tears, suddenly glad he’s not looking at me. Something inside me whispers that he's made his choice, and it's not me.
The sting of rejection, the pain of seeing my boss lying broken in a hospital bed, the sadness that my life will be totally different from now on washes over me in a tsunami of emotion I can hardly contain.
I want to hug him, to offer comfort and support. When I’d hugged him before, he’d held me so tight I felt like all was going to be okay in our world. Now I have no such comfort.
So I hold my head high and make my way toward the hospital door, fully prepared to make a graceful exit.
Once outside in the fresh air, I gather my thoughts for a moment, get in my car and head for the office. I have work to do, and I’m not going to let Anton down. He wouldn't want the world to stop because he’s injured; he’d want life to continue as normal. And I’m going to do my best to honor that.
I’m mentally checked out for the drive and remember nothing as I pull into my parking spot. The world flows around me, the same as always, but forever changed.
Once inside, I make my way to my office, taking a deep breath of the flower-scented air and forcing a smile to my lips.
But the office feels empty without Clifton in his chair behind his desk. In my mind’s eye, I can see him rocking there, talking with that wicked gleam in his eye. Or eating lunch and talking about cases. I think about our iced coffee and meatball subs, laughter and seriousness, how we helped one another when we got stuck. I remember being so mad at him, having to bail him out after his fight, to feeling like my life is incomplete without him.
Well, it’s time to toughen up and get back to work.
As I stare at the page, I realize I haven’t retained anything I’ve read, thanks to Clifton sneaking into my thoughts. I go back and reread the last section, trying to forget how he’d stuck up for me, protected me, made me laugh.
With a sigh, I restart the paragraph again, trying to banish him from my thoughts. But I can’t focus or concentrate, and I set the paperwork down and rub my face with both hands. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and all I want to do is call Clifton and see how he’s doing, how Anton is, and remind Clifton I care, even if he can’t see that through the haze of grief right now.
When I finally give up on work for the day, I leave the office and head for my car, inhaling the cool scents of the city and listening to the buzz of traffic, the shouts and metallic sounds of a construction crew, and my own heartbeat keeping pace with the tap, tap, tap of my heels.
Only when I get to my car do I realize I’d walked out of the office without a security escort, and I make my way to my car with caution.
On my windshield, on the driver’s side, is a folded up piece of paper. I pick up the note and scan the garage, seeing no one else. I unlock my car and get in, locking the doors behind me before opening the note.
I recognize Sterling’s handwriting the second I lay eyes on the scrawled words. You’ve made your point. I’m a jerk. I’m a pain. But I can change, for the right woman. And I think that woman is you. Please give me another chance, Em.
Sterling
Because that’s what every woman wants, to be the one he changes for. That’s such a load of trash. I roll my eyes, crumple up the note, and toss it into the backseat.
He’s not sorry, he’s desperate, and feels like he lost and another man won. It’s all a game to him, and I’m not playing. He can take that selfish, manipulative, pathetic bs somewhere else. Though I feel bad for the next woman he sets his sights on.
Turning over the engine, I pull out and point the hood of my car toward home. I want to call Clifton and check in on him and Anton. I’m going to call Katie - I need the emotional support because I’m a mess.
I want to hear both their voices, for the reassurance and calming they each bring me. But I’m still not sure calling him is a good idea - maybe I need to let him make the next move. I don’t want to be pushy, especially right now.
I pull into my parking spot at my place and get out. Locking my car, I make my way to get my mail, only to have my heart stop beating in my chest as I see a taped note on the front of my mailbox. With trembling hands, I peel the note off, then gather my mail.
Terrified because he’s been to my place, I hurry up to my apartment on the top floor. I only share this floor with one other person, a sweet older woman named Margret.
And when I get to my door, I see a vase of red roses and another note taped to my door.
Margret peeks her head out. “You have an admirer,” she says.
I pick up the vase and offer the flowers to her. Her eyes widen and a smile crosses her lips.
“I’m not interested in him, but he doesn't seem to get the hint. I hope you enjoy them, “I say, gesturing to the flowers as I let myself into my place.
“It’s been a long time since anyone got me flowers,” she says, sticking her nose into a bloom and inhaling deeply. I watch her close her door and let myself into my apartment. I worry I’ll find notes around my home, or - heaven forbid - the man himself.
But a cursory walkthrough of the place leaves me certain I’m alone. I put the stack of mail on the counter, then look down at the notes. Every bit of me wants to throw them directly in the garbage without even reading them, but curiosity wins out.
I open the note that was taped to my mailbox.
You’re an amazing woman, and I want to prove it to you every day of our lives. I want us to fall in love, spend our lives together, and grow old hand-in-hand. It would be an honor to be the man in your life... if you’ll have me.
