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“I’m sorry.”
My apology doesn’t soothe her. She sits up and shakes her head. “Listen, I’m almost home, just stop here and I’ll walk the rest of the way. You probably weren’t even going to leave back there. You went outside to get some air, and I completely…lost it.” She reaches down to the floorboard to get her purse. “Here, this is fine.”
“Emelia, I’m taking you home.”
“You need to get back to dinner.”
“I don’t give a damn about dinner.” My voice is nearly too brusque.
“And what about Miranda? Have you told her where you are?Who you’re with?” Her tone is biting.
“I don’t know why it should matter.”
She brought Miranda up to me once before, earlier, but I was distracted. Now, it seems obvious what she’s doing.
I look her dead in the eye as I deny her suspicions. “I’m not seeing her.”
“You have been.”
My hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“Is this what you want to talk about right now? After everything? You’re worried about Miranda?” I immediately regret how impatient I sound.
“I’ve seen pictures of you two together online. I know you’ve been seeing her, publicly, at least, and then yesterday she came to visit you at work. She disappeared into your office, and I imagined the worst, the two of you reuniting after weeks apart. Did you sleep with her?”
“Christ, Emelia.”
Quickly, she reaches for her door handle, and I grab ahold of her to keep her from doing something stupid and reckless. Fuck, she drives me insane.
“Miranda came to see me, yes. She surprised me. I didn’t even know she was in town—I certainly didn’t invite her to Boston. Emmett or Alexander must have, or who knows, she could be here for work. She asked me to bring her tonight, and I did. That’s it. We have not kissed or anything beyond that in months. We arenottogether.”
Emelia gentles, tipping her head back against her seat and letting her hands go limp in mine. I let go of her, and she goes back to her earlier position with her arms wrapped around her stomach like a defenseless animal.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is faint again. “It’s been a long week. I’m…I feel like I’m not acting like myself.”
That makes two of us.
I pull up outside her building and cut the engine.
She unbuckles her seatbelt and looks over at me with big brown eyes rimmed with dark, thick lashes wet with tears.
“Tell me to keep my distance from you again, like you did before. Make this all go away.”
I will the words to come. They were so easy to say only a few weeks ago.
I part my lips, prepared to keep this train on the tracks, and then instead, I speak two words straight from my heart.
“I can’t.”
Emelia doesn’t look elated at my admission. She looks like she’s on the brink of tears again, bone-weary and in need of rest. She looks down and shakes her head.
“Thank you for the ride.”
I can’t think of what else to say. I don’t want to let her go, but I also don’t think it’s wise for me to follow her up. So much has happened in the last few hours. If I were her, I’d want to be alone, to decompress and process everything. Besides, I don’t think I can help her right now, at least not the way she needs. After all,I’mpart of the problem.
I let her get out of the car and watch her go into her building. I sit at the curb, leaned forward over my steering wheel so I can look through my front windshield and check to see when the light goes on in her apartment. I watch her lone figure move behind the thin curtains on her windows, and instead of shifting into drive and heading home, I stay there for as long as I can, until I stop seeing her moving around, until her apartment goes dark and I’ve convinced myself she’s safe and sleeping.
Emmett accepts my invitation to get lunch the next day, but I’m not surprised. Back at Saint John’s, we used to butt heads all the time. I can think of a black eye he gave me once when we came to blows. Another time, I broke his nose during soccer practice, and the bleeding seemed like it’d never stop.
