As I see it, I have three options. The first is to walk away from Miles Media so that I can be a man worth being with. The second is to let Emily leave my life forever. My stomach twists as I imagine living my life without her.
The third is to try to be both . . . is it truly possible to live as two men?
I stand, and for the first time in a long time, I have crystal-clear clarity.
Fuck this.
I’m going to try, and if I can’t make it work, I will leave Miles Media.
I’m getting my girl back.
She comes first.
Chapter 25
Emily
I close down my computer and pack up my desk and make my way to the elevator. I’m one of the last to leave the office. It’s been a long day, but I achieved a lot. It’s the weirdest thing—blocking Jameson yesterday was the most satisfying thing I’ve done since I murdered his roses.
In some kind of sick and twisted way, being mean to him is releasing some of my anger. Hurting him is like the best kind of therapy. I must really be messed up at the moment; either that, or payback is just surprisingly satisfying. I watched the movie John Wick last night, and I smiled the whole way through it . . . that in itself says a lot about my current headspace.
I take the elevator and walk out onto the street. It’s dark and cold, and I pull my heavy coat around my shoulders for protection.
“Emily,” I hear a voice from behind me.
I stop on the spot . . . shit. Jameson . . . what’s he doing here? I put my head down and keep walking.
“Emily,” he repeats.
I spin toward him. “What, Jameson?” I snap.
“Can I talk to you?”
“No. Go away.” I turn away from him and start to storm to my bus stop.
He follows me as I walk. “I just want five minutes of your time.”
I stay silent.
He runs to catch up with me. “I know I fucked up . . . bad.”
I glare at him as I imagine punching his stupid, handsome face. I get a vision of his head snapping back as I connect the hit.
“Please,” he stammers as he runs after me. “I need to explain why.”
“I’m not interested.” I march forward.
He follows me for a while longer as if not sure what to say. “I’m going to follow you until you talk to me. Can we get a drink or something?”
“No.”
“Dinner?”
“Go. Away. Jameson.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he stammers as he runs to keep up with me.
“You already did. Get out of my face.”