I wished he would just leave. I hated being in the same room with him. I was so vicious to him last time and I regretted how cold I’d been, but the second I had to look at him, all that anger came back. I wasn’t sure if there would ever be a time, even decades from now, when I wouldn’t feel so hostile toward him. It was out of my control, an instinctive response, an evolutionary reaction because this man caused me more physical and emotional trauma than any other event in my life.
Derek started to pull out applications and place them on my desk.
Couldn’t he do this somewhere else?
He placed more, getting through a dozen before he continued to flip through the remaining submissions.
I inhaled a deep breath and forced myself to find peace, not to let his presence destroy who I was as a person. He turned me into a raging guard dog that wanted to tear him to pieces, and that wasn’t me. Kevin and Tabitha had turned him into a monster, and I couldn’t let him turn me into one. “Jerome and Pierre tell me you’re only working two days a week. Everything okay?”
He stilled at the question, his eyes lifting slightly to indicate he wasn’t reading anymore. He was so still that he seemed to stop breathing altogether. Silence passed, a long pause, drawn out to epic proportions. Then he slowly lifted his head and looked at me, his brown eyes steady but empty.
I didn’t think the question would provoke him so deeply.
He continued to stare, his breathing a little deeper than it’d been before, but there was no answer.
There was never an answer, so that was no surprise.
He let out a long, quiet breath before he turned back to the papers in his hand. “Yeah…everything is okay.” He selected a few more and placed them on my desk.
I knew that was a lie, but I didn’t ask him again. He wasn’t my problem anymore, his business wasn’t my business, and even when we were together, his business had never been my business. He didn’t even tell me about Tabitha; his parents did. If I’d known that information, I would have handled that rehearsal dinner quite differently.
He finished picking the forty applicants before he shut the folder and set it on the table beside him.
I gathered the papers and organized them in alphabetical order. “I’ll start making the calls. I’ve received so many inquiries about the status that I just stopped opening the emails. I updated the website, but they don’t seem to be reading it.”
With his hands together, he watched me, listening to me, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. “Emerson.”
I stopped organizing the papers and stared at him.
He cleared his throat, like he had something significant to share with me.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about our last conversation, and there are a few things I’d like to add. I…I wasn’t really in the state of mind to do that at the time.”
My eyes narrowed. “Derek, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Please.”
“Derek, we’re over. There’s nothing you could possibly say to make this better. What do you want from me?”
He kept his gaze on me, staying calm. “If you let me answer, I’ll tell you.”
I gave an angry sigh. “I wanted to talk about this a long time ago and made repeated attempts, but you never gave me that opportunity. I’m not sure why you think I’m obligated to do that when I was never given the same courtesy.” I tried harder to keep my voice low, to be pragmatic rather than an emotional mess. I was much better, but if he kept pushing, I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to keep it together.
He closed his eyes for a moment, stung by the insult. “Because you’re better than me, Emerson. Always have been…always will be.” He tilted his chin and looked at me again, silently asking for permission to talk.
“If you think you can say something to make us be friends again, you’re wasting your time. If you think there’s something you can say to make me continue in this job, you’re wasting your time. But if you just need to get it off your chest, just to know that you tried, then fine. Go ahead.” Once this was over, it would really be over. We would just be memories to each other, a shitshow that crashed and burned. If we’d never gotten together, I could have worked here forever and had a great job. But that was gone now. It was such a fucking mistake.
He turned quiet, staying that way for a long time, like he was absorbing what I said, digesting every single word. “I don’t want you to be like me, Emerson.” He shook his head. “When you said I hurt you the way they hurt me and now you’re ruined…that hurt me more than anything else. I don’t want that for you. You’re…you’re too good for that. I want you to be happy, not bitter and angry…like me.” He cleared his throat and stared at his hands for a bit, like he was trying not to get emotional. “There’s a great guy out there who would be so damn lucky to have you, and he won’t hurt you the way I hurt you. And to shut that out because of me…would be a disservice to you.”