Bursting at the Seams

I’m going to go back to the office, clock in, and just focus on work. I’ll put my phone on silent and put it in a drawer. There’s stuff to do anyway, I’m sure I can get lost in spreadsheets and emails for the rest of the day. Maybe I’ll even work over—

A hang grips mine but I don’t lift my eyes to face him. I already know it’s Emanuel. “Please, let’s forget we ran into her. I’m sorry she caused such a scene.”

My brow furrows and I shake my head as I pull my hand away from his. “She didn’t cause a scene, you both did,” I correct him, though I still don’t have the gumption to look up.

“I… I know. I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Let me make it right.”

“Right how?” I ask, finally lifting my gaze to his.

“I’ll explain what’s going on with her. I assure you, she’s not in my life anymore. There’s just a mess going on… She’s suing for alimony, which could mean part of the business. Take everything she said with a grain of salt, okay? We… She…” He’s stumbling over his words nervously, his eyes wild as he searches for the right thing to say.

“I’m more concerned with what you say,” I inform him. “If all of that,” I say, gesturing back to where we had all just been standing, “is what caused you to be a jerk to me, then I don’t like it. You could have just told me, or at least said some personal stuff was going on. Instead, you got your frustration with the divorce out with my body, told me it was just sex, and went on your merry way?” Disgust oozes from my voice, my face pinching as everything hits me. “I don’t know if this is a bad week for you, or just how you treat the women in your life—but I need space to figure out if I want to deal with it at all.”

His face etches into an expression that looks as though I just slapped him. Maybe I’m going crazy, but I swear I see tears in his eyes too. “Wren, I know I was a dick and I know, I know I messed up yesterday. But don’t walk away right now. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

“Apparently you would know, wouldn’t you?” I mutter, referencing the divorce he hasn’t once mentioned to me. All last night, as we hung out and got to know one another, he had made mentions of an ex but he never informed me it had gone as far as marriage. And while I know in my gut it isn’t right for me to be upset about not knowing that since we’ve only seen one another a handful of times, I can’t get her words out of my head… or his.

“I need time. I’ll message you when I’m ready to talk.”

“Wren—”

When I look to him to see the hurt expression still clinging to his features, anger cramps my stomach. “Why do you look so hurt over it, Emanuel?” I ask him, my voice frosty even to my own ears. “I thought it was just sex?” Before he can react or respond, I head back toward my office. As soon as I badge into the building, I beeline for the bathroom and lock myself in a stall. Tears I don’t want to come, do.

Chapter Twelve

Emanuel

ONE MONTH LATER

The world has returned to the same shade of gray that I’ve been living in for years. Those mere twenty-four hours with Wren had been a frame of high-definition color in my otherwise black-and-white movie of a life. There’s been relative silence between us since the street festival. I’ve cracked and texted her a couple of times here and there, wanting to check in on her at the very least, but she either doesn’t respond or says she still needs time.

I need to respect her wishes, and I will. My bones just feel… hollow. And ever since she cancelled her last fitting and Caroline came alone to pick up her dresses, there’s been a distinct ache in my chest.

It’s stupid to be so lovesick over what most would surmise to be a fling, but it’s even worse to be thinking of nothing but a ‘silly little fling’ at a meeting where your livelihood is on the line. Yet here I am, staring out the counsel room window as Dane and Malaki discuss my financial future.

“Now, all that being said,” Dane remarks, “We would be willing to settle for a ten percent share of the business and a thirty percent cut of Mr. Efron’s salary.”

“Be reasonable, Dane,” Malaki replies, his tone a bit pointed. “My client’s only income is from the dress shop. So what you’re asking for is ten percent off the top of everyone’s income, and then another thirty of his portion. You and I both know that if this goes to court, we will get a better deal than that.”