Did she think changing tactics and pretending to be nice was going to work? After what I’d just seen? Like hell was I leaving my wife with this opportunistic douchebag.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told her.
“This is my job, Ford,” she said, still using that hostage negotiator tone.
“You’re my wife.”
“Soon to be ex, if you’d just sign the papers,” she said.
“Over my dead body.”
This was the same argument we’d been having since I’d tracked her down in New York, and we kept going round and round, neither of us budging. This time, however, Andrew was involved—and he kept interjecting, which made me itch to punch him in the fucking face.
“You need to accept that things between us are over,” Emzee said.
“Listen to the lady,” Andrew added.
I did my best to ignore him.
“You still owe me a discussion,” I told Emzee. “Just the two of us.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said.
“The hell there isn’t.”
“She obviously doesn’t want you here,” Andrew said, throwing out another verbal jab. “Why don’t you take the hint and go.”
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business,” I told him.
I felt vindicated when he walked away in a huff. Now I could actually have a calm, adult conversation with Emzee. I reached out to her but she sidestepped my hands.
“Are you in love with him?” I asked. “Is that the real reason you came here?”
Suddenly, everything made sense. Why else would she have left Chicago—and me—to move here? So she could work with Andrew.Bewith Andrew. God, why hadn’t I seen it?
Before she could answer me, I realized that Andrew hadn’t really left. He’d just gone to get the security guard. And even though I could easily take the kindly older man, I saw that Emzee’s eyes were filling up with tears, and that just about broke me. Because it was my fault.
So without putting up a fight, I let the old guy usher me out of the building.
Outside, I paced the sidewalk. I knew I should go. I hadn’t even been allowed to stay in the lobby. But there was the bench against the side of the building where I’d waited for Emzee last time, and I sank onto it to give myself a minute to think.
I’d fucked up. Again. Just like I always did with her.
I had meant the lunch delivery to be a fun, romantic surprise…and now it was just a mess for her to clean up, and she was pissed at me all over again. Even more likely to go running into the comforting arms of her sleazeball boss, if that wasn’t her intention all along.
If I wanted to win her back, I knew I had to be more mature about the situation. Had to change my tactics. Head in my hands, I took a deep breath and tried to look at things from her perspective.
First off, I’d intruded on her day, been aggressive with her boss, and possibly had gotten her in trouble with him, with the addition of potentially embarrassing her in front of her coworkers in the process. Even if most of them were at lunch, they’d likely gossip about it later.
Not cool.
I hated the thought of it, but I probably owed Andrew an apology. I definitely owed one to Emzee, but I planned on apologizing to her in a much different way.
Unfortunately, since the only way I could actually apologize to Andrew was to wait for him on the bench outside, that was exactly what I did for the rest of the day. Time passed, my phone battery died, the sky gradually darkened, and then finally business hours were over. But of course Andrew was the type to work late, so it wasn’t until almost seven that he emerged from the building. And I was ready for him.
I just hadn’t expected to see Emzee walking at his side, which almost made me lose it all over again.
But instead, I took a deep breath, relaxed my hands—which had reflexively clenched into fists—and stood. The minute I did, Emzee’s step faltered, and the smile on her face disappeared.
