Chasing My Ex: The Billionaire's Plea

**EMMA** "You're not even going to fight for this?" Nathan's voice cut through the silence of our apartment, sharp and accusing, like I was the one breaking us apart. I stood in the doorway of our bedroom with my suitcase in hand, my father's funeral program still folded in my coat pocket. "Fight for what, Nathan?" My voice came out steadier than I felt. "For you to keep me hidden? For you to miss another important day? For you to choose your father over me one more time?" "That's not fair. You know how important that dinner was." I laughed, and it sounded bitter even to my own ears. "My father's funeral, Nathan. His funeral. You promised you'd be there." He ran his hands through his hair, that gesture he always made when he was frustrated. Two years together and I could read every movement, every expression. I knew he was about to say something about his career, about the partnership, about how I just didn't understand the pressure he was under. "Emma, please. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Next week we can…." "No." I cut him off because I couldn't hear another empty promise. "I sat in that church today and stared at an empty seat. Everyone asked where you were. My mother asked. My sister asked. And I lied for you, Nathan. Again. I told them you had an emergency at work because I was too embarrassed to admit that my boyfriend chose a client dinner over my father's funeral." "It wasn't just a dinner. Dad said if I didn't close this deal….." "Your dad." I set my suitcase down, and something in me finally cracked open. "It's always your dad. Do you know what my father asked me three weeks before he died? He asked me when I was going to stop waiting for a man who treats me like a secret." Nathan's face went pale. "I don't treat you like a secret." "We've been together for two years. Two years, Nathan. Your colleagues don't know about me. Your father doesn't know about me. Last month you literally hid in the bathroom when your law school friend came to our building because you didn't want him to see us together." I picked up my suitcase again. "I'm not doing this anymore." "Where are you going?" "Home. My actual home. The town I grew up in, where people actually show up for each other." He stepped toward me, and I saw panic flash across his face. Real panic. Maybe the first genuine emotion I'd seen from him in months. "Emma, don't do this. I love you." "You love the idea of me," I said quietly. "You love having someone waiting for you at home. You love that I don't complain when you cancel plans or that I make your life easier. But you don't love me enough to actually be with me. Not publicly. Not when it matters." "That's not true." "Then introduce me to your father." I waited. The silence stretched between us like a chasm. "That's what I thought." I walked past him toward the door. He didn't try to stop me. That told me everything I needed to know. "Emma, wait." I paused with my hand on the doorknob but didn't turn around. "I'll change. I promise. Just give me time to—" "I gave you two years, Nathan. I don't have any more time to give." I left our apartment and didn't look back. I didn't cry in the elevator. I didn't cry in the taxi. I didn't cry until I was on the highway, my hometown's name on the exit sign ahead of me, and then I sobbed so hard I had to pull over. My phone buzzed constantly. Nathan calling, texting, leaving voicemails I didn't listen to. By the time I reached my mother's house, I'd turned it off completely. ****************** Six months later, I stood in my bookstore arranging a display of romance novels, and the irony wasn't lost on me. Stories about love that conquered all, about men who fought for their women, about happy endings that felt further away than ever. "Emma, you've reorganized that shelf three times today." Trish appeared beside me with two cups of terrible coffee from her shop next door. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong." "You only reorganize when you're anxious. So spill." I took the coffee and grimaced at the taste. Trish made the worst coffee in town, but I loved her for trying. "I just keep thinking about the past. About whether I made the right choice leaving." "You made the only choice. That man treated you like you were disposable." "I know. I just….." The bell above the door chimed. I looked up out of habit, ready to greet a customer with my practiced bookstore owner smile. Nathan Cole stood in my doorway. He looked different. Thinner maybe, or just tired. His expensive suit was wrinkled, and his hair was messier than I'd ever seen it. He stared at me like he'd seen a ghost. "Emma." My coffee cup slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. Hot liquid splashed across my shoes, but I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't process that he was actually here, in my bookstore, in my town, in my new life. Trish's eyes went wide. She'd heard all the stories. She knew exactly who he was. "What are you doing here?" I finally managed to ask. Nathan took a step forward. "I needed to see you." "How did you even find me?" "Your sister's i********:. She posted a photo of your bookstore opening. I've been trying to work up the courage to come here for three weeks." Three weeks. He'd known where I was for three weeks and hadn't said anything. Typical Nathan, always calculating, always planning. "You should leave," I said. "Emma, please. I just want to talk." "We have nothing to talk about." "I made junior partner." The words hung in the air between us. The promotion he'd sacrificed everything for. The reason he'd missed my father's funeral. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted. "Congratulations." My voice was ice. "Was it worth it?" His face crumpled. "No. Nothing's been worth it without you." Trish made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. I shot her a look, and she held up her hands in surrender before disappearing toward the back of the store, though I knew she was absolutely eavesdropping. "Nathan, you need to go." "I know I don't deserve another chance. I know I messed up. But Emma, these past six months have been hell. I can't sleep. I can't focus. Everything I worked for feels empty because you're not there." "I'm not coming back to the city. I'm not coming back to you." "I'm not asking you to." He took another step closer. "I'm asking you to let me prove I've changed. Let me show you that I can be the man you deserved all along." My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might break through my chest. This was everything I'd fantasized about in those first lonely weeks—Nathan realizing what he'd lost, Nathan coming after me, Nathan choosing me. But I'd also spent six months rebuilding myself. Six months learning to be happy alone. Six months discovering who Emma Walsh was without Nathan Cole. "Emma?" a male voice called from the doorway. I turned to see Marcus Reid, the high school teacher I'd been casually seeing for the past month, standing there with takeout bags and a confused smile. "I brought lunch like you asked…." Marcus stopped when he saw Nathan. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't realize you had company." Nathan's eyes went from me to Marcus to the familiar way Marcus was holding those bags, clearly comfortable in my space. "Who's this?" Nathan's voice was sharp, possessive, everything he'd never been when we were actually together. Marcus looked at me, waiting for an introduction. The air in the bookstore felt too thin. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Nathan said, "I'm her boyfriend.”