Amy
I hope this provides enough clues for him to figure things out. If not, he’s too oblivious, and nothing can help somebody that unaware.
The lights along the driveway die, and I’m plunged into darkness. I look for more emails to respond to, but they’re all junk. I put my phone away and stare at the driveway. How late is Emmett going to work? Should I have made an appointment? But if I tried, he might’ve said no. For all I know, he might’ve blocked my number already.
He didn’t block the code for the gates…
Yeah, but he could’ve forgotten that.
I wrap my arms around the steering wheel and rest my head there. It isn’t too bad a position—I’ll still be able to see Emmett’s headlights when he drives up.
I’m actually pretty comfortable. I stay like that for…a while.
And then, suddenly, there are a couple of light taps on my window. I jerk up, wincing as I feel a burn in the side of my neck—ow!—and stiffness in my shoulders. My arms are numb from a lack of circulation.
“Amy?” Emmett’s voice sounds muffled through the window.
Oh. So he’s finally ho—
Oh shit.
Getting caught sleeping in my car isn’t the opening I envisioned. I look up to read his expression, but the light is behind him, keeping his face in the dark.
Since I don’t want to yell, I try opening the door. It isn’t easy with numb arms and hands. After four flopping attempts, I manage to step out of the car, then instantly bend over and put a hand to my back at the tightness.
So much for attitude! The space is owning me. If Emmett’s feeling charitable, he might call 911 for an ambulance.
“Are you okay?” He lays a hand on my shoulder. His touch is tentative, like he’s worried he might cause me further pain.
And that, more than anything else, makes me want to cry, which is ridiculous. Why are my emotions all over the map? “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…give me a second. I think I sat in the same position for too long. What time is it?”
“A little after three.”
No wonder I’m so stiff! I can’t believe I slept for so long. “You’ve been working late.”
“It’s about normal. Do you need to sit down?”
“No. I need to…” I slowly straighten. My back is still tight, but loosening. “I need to talk to you.”
“Out here?”
I look around. Or try to, then give up. My neck’s in too much pain. I must’ve pulled a muscle when I woke up. Ugh.
“No. Let’s go…” I’m about to say “inside,” but realize that maybe he doesn’t want to invite me in anymore. If Rick ever shows up on my doorstep wanting to talk…
“Come on.”
Emmett points his chin toward his home and puts his hand at my elbow. The gesture loosens a little of the anxiety that’s been knotted inside me.
We go into his mansion, the lights coming on as we step inside. Memories of our time together flow through my mind—eating together, chatting and laughing, sharing our bodies and making each other feel good, seeing the nursery he created. So many good moments, so many sweet emotions.
And I realize I was right to come back, to try to hold on to him. Because no matter what drama might exist in his life, what we had was real.
The love I feel for him is real.
He leads me to the living room, then gently seats me on a couch. He takes the sectional to my right. Emmett looks as gorgeous as ever, but a little exhausted. His gray-blue eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his cheeks seem hollower than before. Something like determination fleets through his face as he studies me.
“So,” I begin, since I’m the one who came by and said I had to talk to him. But the next part doesn’t come. I don’t know why. I had some words that sounded good in my apartment, but they seem so prepared and phony now. Panic rises like a wave.