Page 152 of Love Unspoken

"Then Charleston society can go fuck itself," I bit back. "I want to marry someone I love, not someone who society thinks is appropriate."

"You're hurting me, Lucas," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Just be reasonable, and things will go back to the way they were with us."

"Things will never go back to the way they were," I said, my tone firm, my words final. "Not with us. You need to stop living in the past and dragging me along with you."

She reached out, desperate, but I stepped back again, shaking my head. "No, Kath. I don't love you. I don't think I ever did. I'm in love with Amara. It may have taken me a while to understand myself, but I do now. You're on notice. If you play a game like this again, I'll fire you as CFO."

"On what grounds?" Kath went from teary-eyed to fire-breathing in seconds.

"Sexual harassment. What you're doing is harassment. You need to stop it. I'm not interested in having a relationship with you and you pressing on makes me uncomfortable both in and out of work."

"You can't do that. What will people say?"

"That you need to have some pride. When a man says he doesn't want you—stop pushing the issue. Have some fucking dignity."

I turned away from her, my heart pounding, my mind racing with thoughts of Amara. I had to find her. I had to tell her that none of this meant anything. The only thing that mattered to me was making things right with her. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances and whispered conversations that trailed in my wake.

By the time I reached the doors, Jax's car was already pulling away, with Amara in the passenger seat. My chest tightened, panic gripping me like a vice. If she left now, if I let her walk out of my life tonight, there might not be another chance to make this right.

And this time, I couldn't afford to lose her. I wouldn't.

I stood, watching Jax's car's taillights disappear into the Charleston night, my fists clenched at my sides.

"That was dumb," I heard Grandma's voice from behind me.

I turned to face her. "I didn't handle that well."

"You blew it, son."

"Damn Kath."

Grandma shook her head. "Come on inside. The damage is done and you need to let Amara have some time to analyze what happened. Let's hope she can see this was all Kath, and your biggest sin was letting her get away with it in public."

"What choice did I have?"

"Plenty. You just chose poorly." Grandma, as always, gave it to me straight.

TWENTY-ONE

AMARA

I blocked Lucas on my phone again and also didn't open the door when he knocked. I told Jax to tell Rena to tell Lucas (sigh, I know that wasn't very adult of me) to back the fuck off. I was done. Kath could have him for all I cared.

I also handed in my resignation. Bobby, Basil, and Gemma were unhappy. I now had a meeting booked with the Chancellor because, apparently, she wasn't happy with my decision either.

It made me feel great that my colleagues thought so highly of me that they wanted me to stay; it also made me feel guilty, weak, and pathetic. I was a lovesick woman who was giving up her job because of a man. The feminist in me was snarling at me. My heart felt sore. My brain was tired of thinking.

My father had told me to stop being hard on myself. "You're coming home to your father. You're taking a break to get emotionally healthy. That's not weak. It takes strength to admit you need to take care of yourself. Also, I love the idea of having my daughter to myself for a few months."

My father was so supportive that I thought about what Rena had said. Our circumstances defined us. I came from a family where there was love and freedom of choice. Lucas came from a family where there was duty and obligation.

All that did was confirm for me that we were too different for our relationship to work. And, honestly, I wasn't here to fix some man's childhood issues. I was not Lucas's mother or therapist; I was his girlfriend…well, I used to be. I was no one's Band-Aid, not even Lucas's, no matter how much I loved him. The love would pass, I decided, once I left this beautiful city that I knew I'd miss.

I walked into Chancellor Sharon Armstrong's office with a sense of finality. I'd tell her that I was moving on, that I wanted change.

"Amara, so glad you could make time for me." Chancellor Armstrong was as welcoming as always. She was the first African American woman to become Chancellor and had a commanding presence—tall, poised, with an air of authority that didn't need to be stated. Her office reflected that too: elegant but not ostentatious, filled with books and awards that spoke to a lifetime of hard-earned respect. She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, Chancellor," I replied, sitting and smoothing my skirt, trying to maintain my composure.