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I give her time and after moments of contemplating, she mumbles. "... back."
"What did you say, Angel? Is something wrong with your back?"
A short chuckle leaves her lips. Then she speaks in a clearer voice.
"When I came back from dropping off Charlotte, someone was waiting for me on the front porch." Her chest rises and falls quicker with every breath.
"Who?"
"Thomas."
Her eyes pan up and meet mine, and when she sees the name doesn't ring a bell with me, she clarifies.
"Thomas, Charlotte's father."
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I close it and let my brain process the information. Her ex is back. Wow… From all the options, I didn't expect this one. But this is not about me and my feelings, because it's clear Emma is in shock and she needs my support. So, in a calm voice, I ask. "Have you talked to him?"
She exhales and shrugs. "The first thing I did when I saw him was run inside, and when I refused to let him, he pushed his way inside."
"What? Did he hurt you?" The thought of her ex touching or hurting her has me riled up.
She shakes her head, and another tear falls.
"Sweetheart, what did he do?"
"He… He did… nothing. He only said that he's back and wants to meet Charlotte. I asked to give me some time, and after he wrote his phone number down he left."
Her messy hair and the red spots on her skin tell me she's been crying a lot. After moments of silence, Emma breaks it and lets out a waterfall of words. "I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't want to bother you with this. It's too much. You don't need to deal with my fucked up past. If you want to stop seeing me, I'll understand." She places her hand in front of her face and breaks down. Her shoulders shake and when I hear her breathing becoming erratic, I know she's on the verge of a panic attack. In a calm but stern tone, I try to get her attention. "Emma, sweetheart. I need you to close your eyes, put your hands on your lower belly, and listen to my voice."
Thank god, she does, and with my most serene voice, I guide her to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. She does that multiple times, and as minutes pass, her emotions soften.
"That's better, angel."
"I'm so tired, Nick," she says, wiping away the remaining tears. "I want to sleep and forget everything for a few hours."
"Then go to bed," I say.
"But—"
"Grab the phone and go to your bedroom."
I see the hallway upside down as she follows up on my words. When her bedroom door comes into sight, a deep longing to be with her rushes through me. She takes a seat on her bed, and her face pops up on the screen.
"And now? My head is a mess. It's like I'm standing next to the highway, and the cars that rush by are my thoughts. They're unstoppable."
"I know, sweetheart. But let me try. I'm lying in my bed, so you do the same."
She places the phone next to her against a pillow and lies on her side. I send her a reassuring smile. "Now pretend I'm lying next to you and talk to me. Ask me anything."
"How was your day?" she starts.
I tell her about my meeting with Nero and the possibility of working with him. She listens and asks questions to clarify things she doesn't understand. When I describe the hotel and my luxurious suite, she grins.
"A golden showerhead?"
"Yep, can't you see the golden glow on my skin and hair?"
She giggles for a moment. "So, you're a real golden boy now."
