Chapter Three
1092 Words
**EMMA**
"So that was him." Marcus set the Chinese food containers on my counter, his voice carefully neutral.
"That was him." I couldn't look at Marcus. My hands were shaking.
"He seems intense."
"That's one word for it."
Marcus was quiet for a moment, unpacking lo mein and orange chicken. "Do you still love him?"
"No." The lie came too quickly.
"Emma."
I finally looked up. Marcus deserved better than lies. He'd been nothing but honest with me since we met at Trish's coffee shop six weeks ago. Patient. Present. Everything Nathan wasn't.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I thought I was over him. I really did. But seeing him here, in my space, saying all the right things…."
"Things he should've said months ago."
"Exactly." I sank into a chair. "Why do men always figure out what they want after they've lost it?"
Marcus sat across from me. "Not all men. Some of us know what we want when we have it."
The implication was clear. Marcus wanted me. Wanted something real. And I was sitting here thinking about my ex.
"I'm sorry. This is so unfair to you."
"Hey." He reached across and took my hand. "We're just dating. No pressure. But I need to know if you're actually available or if part of you is still in the city with him."
Before I could answer, my phone rang. Riley's face flashed on the screen.
"I should take this. It's my sister."
Marcus nodded and I answered.
"Did Nathan really show up at your bookstore?" Riley's voice was sharp.
"How did you….."
"Trish texted me. Emma, what the hell? Please tell me you told him to leave."
"I did."
"And?"
"And he said he's not giving up."
Riley made a disgusted noise. "Typical. He ignores you for two years, treats you like a dirty secret, misses Dad's funeral, and now suddenly he wants to play the devoted boyfriend."
"I know."
"Do you? Because Trish said you looked pretty shaken up."
I glanced at Marcus who was pretending to be very interested in his phone. "Riley, can we talk about this later?"
"Is the teacher there?"
"His name is Marcus."
"Right. Marcus. The rebound guy."
"He's not a rebound."
"Isn't he though?" Riley's voice softened. "Look, I love that you're moving on. I do. But make sure you're actually into him and not just using him to prove to yourself that you're over Nathan."
"I have to go." I hung up before she could say anything else.
Marcus was watching me now. "Rebound guy, huh?"
"You weren't supposed to hear that."
"Small phone, loud sister." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Is that what I am?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know anymore." I put my head in my hands. "God, I'm a mess."
"You're human." Marcus stood up. "Look, I like you Emma. A lot. But I'm not going to compete with a ghost. Or worse, with a very real guy who's apparently planning to stick around."
"You're breaking up with me?"
"I'm giving you space to figure out what you actually want. If that's me, great. If it's him, okay. If it's neither of us, that's fine too. But you need to decide without me standing here making you feel guilty."
He was too good. That was the problem. Marcus was too understanding, too patient, too perfect. And I hated that Nathan's mere presence had ruined this before it even had a chance to become something real.
"I don't deserve you," I said.
"Probably not." He kissed my forehead. "But call me when you figure things out."
He left, taking the Chinese food with him. I sat alone in my bookstore feeling like the worst person alive.
******************
**NATHAN**
I checked into a bed and breakfast two towns over. The motel in Emma's town really was booked, but I wasn't leaving. Not yet.
My phone had seventeen missed calls from my father and twelve from David. I called David back.
"Where are you?" he asked immediately. "Your dad is losing his mind."
"Good."
"Nathan, he's threatening to revoke your partnership."
"Let him."
Silence. Then, "Did you hit your head?"
"I saw her, David. I saw Emma and she's with someone else and I can't breathe."
"So you're throwing away your career?"
"What career? I hate every second of working for my father. I hate the cases, the clients, the politics. I've hated it for years but I was too scared to admit it."
"This is about more than Emma."
"Maybe. Yeah. I don't know." I ran my hands through my hair. "When did we become people we don't even recognize?"
David was quiet. "You're serious about this."
"I think I am."
"Then quit properly. Don't burn bridges. Your dad's a bastard but he's connected. You'll need references if you want to practice anywhere else."
"I'm not sure I want to practice at all."
"Nathan….."
"I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow."
I hung up and stared at my laptop. My resignation letter was already drafted. All I had to do was send it.
Instead, I opened my email and saw something that made my blood run cold. An email from Kyle Patterson with the subject line: "Thought you should know."
I clicked it open.
"Your girl Emma isn't as innocent as she seems. Attached are some interesting documents about her father. Might want to ask her about George Walsh's relationship with your dad before you throw everything away for her."
There was a PDF attachment. I downloaded it while shaking hands.
Insurance documents. Medical records. Pharmacy receipts. All related to Emma's father's heart medication. And notations in my father's handwriting.
No. No, this couldn't be right.
I called David back.
"What's my father's connection to George Walsh?"
"Who?"
"Emma's father. The one who died six months ago."
"I have no idea. Why?"
"Kyle just sent me something. Documents. It looks like my father was involved somehow."
"Involved how?"
I stared at the papers, my hands shaking. "I think my father might have killed Emma's father."
The line went dead silent.
"David?"
"Send me everything. Right now. Don't talk to anyone, don't do anything until I look at this."
"If this is real……"
"Then your father's going to prison and your entire world is about to explode. Send me the files, Nathan. Now."
I forwarded everything to David and sat there in my rented room, my mind racing. If my father had really done this, if he'd killed Emma's father, then everything was so much worse than I'd imagined.
- Writer
