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It’s because I love her.
Which is why this whole mess got so ugly. If I didn’t love her, I would never have confided in her. And I would never have been in this predicament. But the short time I had her in my life was wonderful. She made me forget about the things that scared me, about the demons that haunted me. When I was with her, I could almost believe the monster I feared didn’t exist.
All that was gone, now.
“Sir?” my secretary says over the intercom. “You have a visitor.”
I walk to my desk. “Is it a reporter?”
“Her name is Emma Osborn. She says she’s here on business.”
My stomach twisted. “Send her in.”
A moment later, my office door opened, and Emma walked in. She wore jeans and a t-shirt and ballerina flats. I wasn’t used to seeing her in normal clothes—usually, she wore a tracksuit or leggings and a sports bra.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, relieved to see her and terrified that this doesn’t mean she’s back in my life.
“I heard you were having a tough time. I thought I’d come here to see how you were doing.”
I shake my head. “What I said to you—”
“It’s okay, Blake,” she says. “We all go through tough times. One day, I’ll say something out of line, too. But I’m sorry I said you’re like your dad. You’re not—you can’t be.”
I walked to my desk and sit down, scrubbing my face with my hands.
“I’m terrified you’re right.”
“I’m not right,” Emma says firmly. “You’re nothing like your father.”
“You didn’t know him.”
“I know that you’re so shit scared of hurting someone, that you’re not living the life you deserve. Your father didn’t do that. He hurt you and your mom, and he didn’t stop. You’re not your father.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding. I want to believe her. Ineedto believe her.
Emma sits down.
“Coffee?” I offer. “Or something stronger?”
“Something stronger,” she says.
I grin. “I didn’t take you for someone who would drink on the job.”
“I’m not on the job anymore, remember?” she says with a smirk, but her words punch me in the gut.
“Sorry,” she says. “Too soon.”
I nod and walk to the wet bar. I pour her a vodka tonic because I know she likes it. I pour myself a glass of Scotch. I throw back my glass, gulping it down, before I pour another and take Emma’s vodka to her.
“That bad, huh?” she asks softly when I hand her the drink and sit down in the visitor chair next to her rather than sitting behind my desk again. I sip my second Scotch.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I might lose the company.”
“You’re far from losing the company.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because everyone loves you, Blake. And yeah, it’s a big scandal and it makes you look bad, but it will blow over because you’re not the one who fucked up. Your dad is. So, they know your secrets now. So, they won’t care as soon as the next one happens. And then you’re free.”
