Then she was gone.
And as I stood in place for the next hour with shit whirling through my mind, all I could think was—who was I trying to protect here?
Her…or me.
Chapter 42
Drew
I didn’t think it was possible to get any more miserable than I’d been the last week. Alexa and I had fought for an hour when I picked up Beck, and then she started in right where she’d left off when I brought him back two days later. My son hadn’t felt well all weekend and wanted to know why we couldn’t go home to my place anymore. I didn’t know what to tell him, and the longer I left shit in limbo, the harder it was getting.
To make matters worse, my flight back to New York was delayed for six hours, and the last decent night’s sleep I’d had was the night before the judge handed down his decision. Even the flight attendant asked me if I was feeling okay. The truth of the matter was, I wasn’t feeling okay—I was fucking miserable trying to figure out my move to Atlanta. Although that wasn’t the real reason for my recent hatred of life.
By the time my flight landed at JFK, it was midnight. I was so exhausted from lack of sleep, I thought I might actually pass out tonight, finally get some desperately needed shut-eye. But then I made the mistake of stopping in the office, just to look around.
It was quiet. I didn’t expect Emerie to be here this late. She’d avoided me at all costs before I left for Atlanta anyway—coming to the office only to meet her in-person appointments and leaving immediately after. I presumed she was doing the rest of her working from home. Plus, having access to my schedule, she’d have known I was due back earlier in the evening, so I was certain she’d be staying away.
I dropped my bags at the reception desk and walked through the eerily silent office. Emerie’s door was closed, and I tried my hardest to pass it by, but I just couldn’t do it. Even though I was relatively certain no one was in there, I knocked first, then slowly creaked the door open. It was dark, but the hall light illuminated enough for me to see inside. Although I was sure the darkness had me imagining things. So I flipped the light on. My heart leaped into my throat as I froze and stared.
Empty.
The office was fucking empty.
I blinked a few times, hoping my eyes were playing tricks on me, but nope—she was gone. For good this time.
***
“I need you to tail someone for me.”
“Good fucking morning to you, too, sunshine.” Roman plopped down into the guest chair on the other side of my desk.
When I’d texted him at six this morning, he was already on his way to my place. Since I hadn’t slept all night and decided to make productive use of my insomnia, I told him to meet me in the office.
“There’s nothing good about it.” I tossed the file in my hand on the desk and rubbed my eyes.
“You look like shit, man.” Roman leaned back in his chair and lifted his boot-covered feet onto my desk, crossing them at the ankles. Normally, I’d knock them off, but I didn’t care enough this morning.
“All the traveling has caught up to me.”
“Yeah, that’s the reason.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. What do you need?”
“I want you to tail Emerie for me.”
“What the fuck for? Isn’t she across the hall from you half the day?”
“She moved out.”
“When did that happen?”
“Sometime over the last few days, I assume. Got back at midnight, and her office was cleared out.”
“Guess that explains you looking like you haven’t slept in two days.”
“I just need to know if she found a new place to rent. I found a small house to lease down in Atlanta. Dave Monroe is going to join me part time here, taking over some of the work that my clients won’t care if I don’t handle personally. Between that and working remotely, I’m thinking I can come back twice a month for a few days instead of the back and forth every week. There’s no reason she can’t stay here. It would be easy to avoid me.”
“So you’re really doing it? Going to leave your practice and move to Atlanta?”
“What choice do I have? I’ll appeal, but there’s no guarantee it’ll change anything. Beck feels the limbo I’m in. I can’t live in a hotel room—he’ll never settle without being able to have his own place to sleep and keep his things. He needs to feel like he’s at home, that I’m there if he needs me—school events, doctor’s appointments. He just made a pee-wee hockey team. What would I do when his games were on days I was in New York every week? Plus, I can’t go back and forth fifty two times a year, cramming forty hours of work in two days. It’s tough after a while.”