Chapter Two
1093 Words
**NATHAN**
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. "I'm her boyfriend."
Emma's face turned white, then red. "Ex-boyfriend. Very ex."
The guy with the takeout bags looked between us, clearly uncomfortable. He was tall, athletic, wearing a casual button-down and khakis. Teacher vibes. Exactly the kind of safe, uncomplicated guy Emma would choose after me.
"Nathan Cole," I extended my hand anyway, some corporate instinct taking over.
"Marcus Reid." He shook it, his grip firm. "I teach at the high school."
Of course he did. Probably coached sports too. Probably had everyone in town loving him. Probably never missed important events because of work.
"Marcus, can you give us a minute?" Emma's voice was tight.
"You sure?" Marcus looked at her with concern, protective, and something twisted in my gut.
"I'm fine. Just wait outside?"
Marcus nodded, shot me one more assessing look, and left. Through the window, I could see him standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, watching.
"You had no right to say that," Emma hissed the moment the door closed.
"Is it serious? With him?"
"That's none of your business."
"Emma, please….."
"No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up after six months and act jealous. You never acted like my boyfriend when we were actually together."
"I know. I know I messed up. That's why I'm here."
She laughed. "You're here because you finally made a junior partner and realized your victory feels empty. You're here because you're bored or lonely or guilty. But you're not here for me, Nathan. You're here for yourself."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it? When's my birthday?"
The question hit me like a punch. My mind went blank.
"That's what I thought." Emma crossed her arms. "Two years together and you don't even know when my birthday is. But sure, you've changed."
"July." I tried desperately to remember. "July something."
"March fourteenth. It was last month, actually. Marcus remembered. Brought me flowers and took me to dinner at that Italian place everyone loves. Made reservations three weeks in advance."
I'd never taken her to a nice restaurant. Too worried about being seen.
"Emma, I came here to apologize. To make things right."
"You can't. What's done is done."
"I love you."
"You love the idea of me. There's a difference." She started cleaning up the spilled coffee, not looking at me. "You need to leave."
"I'm not giving up."
"Nathan…."
"I'll stay in town. I'll prove to you that I'm different."
She stood up, holding the broken coffee cup pieces. "There's one motel and it's booked for a wedding this weekend. There's nothing for you here."
"Then I'll come back. Every weekend if I have to."
"Why?" Her voice cracked. "Why now? Why not when it mattered?"
"Because I was an i***t. Because my father spent my whole life telling me that success was the only thing that mattered, and I believed him. Because I was scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of you." The admission felt like pulling glass from a wound. "You were this bright, brilliant person and I was terrified that if people knew about you, they'd wonder what you were doing with me. I know how that sounds. I know it's backwards and stupid, but it's the truth."
Emma stared at me. "You're serious."
"My father always made me feel like I wasn't enough. Like I had to prove myself constantly. And you were so far out of my league that I convinced myself keeping you separate from that world was protecting you. But really I was protecting myself. From failing. From you seeing that I wasn't as impressive as I pretended to be."
"That's the most honest thing you've ever said to me." She set the broken cup down. "But it doesn't change anything."
"It could."
"I'm happy here, Nathan. For the first time in years, I'm actually happy. I have my bookstore, my friends, Marcus….."
"Do you love him?"
"That's not….."
"It's a simple question. Do you love him?"
Emma's jaw tightened. "I could. Eventually. He's kind and reliable and he actually wants to be seen with me."
"But you don't. Not yet."
"It's been six months. You don't get to waltz back in and demand answers about my love life."
My phone buzzed. My father called for the third time today. I declined it.
Emma noticed. "You should take that. Wouldn't want to miss an important call."
"He can wait."
"Who are you and what did you do with Nathan Cole?"
"I quit."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"Not officially yet. But I'm going to. The partnership, the firm, all of it. It's not worth it without you."
"Don't." Emma's voice was sharp. "Don't you dare quit your job for me. Don't make me responsible for your career choices."
"I'm not. I'm making a choice for myself. I'm miserable there. I've been miserable for months. Maybe years."
"Then quit because you're unhappy, not because of me."
"What if it's both?"
The door opened. Marcus poked his head in. "Everything okay? The food's getting cold."
Emma looked at him, then at me, then back at him. I saw the war happening behind her eyes.
"Yeah. We're done here." She turned to me. "Goodbye, Nathan."
"Emma…."
"Please. Just go."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to stay. I wanted to grab her hand and make her listen. But the way she was looking at me, like I was causing her pain just by existing in her space, killed me.
"This isn't over," I said quietly.
"Yes, it is."
I walked to the door, past Marcus who looked relieved I was leaving. On the sidewalk, I turned back. Through the window, I watched Marcus hand Emma the takeout, watched her try to smile, watched her glance toward where I was standing.
Our eyes met through the glass.
I mouthed, "I'm sorry."
She looked away.
I got in my car and sat there for ten minutes, watching her bookstore, watching her life without me. My phone rang again. My father.
I answered this time.
"Where the hell are you?" Robert Cole's voice boomed. "You missed the partnership meeting."
"I'm out of town."
"For what?"
I looked at the bookstore one more time. Emma was laughing at something Marcus said, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Something important," I said.
"More important than your career? Than this family?"
For the first time in my life, I didn't hesitate. "Yes."
I hung up on my father and started my car.
This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
- Writer
