is it truly possible to live as two men?
I stand, and for the first time in a long time, I have crystal-clear clarity.
Fuck this.
I’m going to try, and if I can’t make it work, I will leave Miles Media.
I’m getting my girl back.
She comes first.
Chapter 25
Emily
I close down my computer and pack up my desk and make my way to the elevator. I’m one of the last to leave the office. It’s been a long day, but I achieved a lot. It’s the weirdest thing—blocking Jameson yesterday was the most satisfying thing I’ve done since I murdered his roses.
In some kind of sick and twisted way, being mean to him is releasing some of my anger. Hurting him is like the best kind of therapy. I must really be messed up at the moment; either that, or payback is just surprisingly satisfying. I watched the movie John Wick last night, and I smiled the whole way through it . . . that in itself says a lot about my current headspace.
I take the elevator and walk out onto the street. It’s dark and cold, and I pull my heavy coat around my shoulders for protection.
“Emily,” I hear a voice from behind me.
I stop on the spot . . . shit. Jameson . . . what’s he doing here? I put my head down and keep walking.
“Emily,” he repeats.
I spin toward him. “What, Jameson?” I snap.
“Can I talk to you?”
“No. Go away.” I turn away from him and start to storm to my bus stop.
He follows me as I walk. “I just want five minutes of your time.”
I stay silent.
He runs to catch up with me. “I know I fucked up . . . bad.”
I glare at him as I imagine punching his stupid, handsome face. I get a vision of his head snapping back as I connect the hit.
“Please,” he stammers as he runs after me. “I need to explain why.”
“I’m not interested.” I march forward.
He follows me for a while longer as if not sure what to say. “I’m going to follow you until you talk to me. Can we get a drink or something?”
“No.”
“Dinner?”
“Go. Away. Jameson.”
“I’m not leaving you,” he stammers as he runs to keep up with me.
“You already did. Get out of my face.”
He runs in front of me and walks backward facing me. “I mean, I’m not leaving you again . . . ever.”
“Then it’s going to be a one-sided relationship because I want nothing to do with you. Ever again.”
His face falls. “Don’t say that.”
A man runs into him as he walks backward. “Watch out,” the man snaps as he brushes past.
“I just want ten minutes of your time,” he stammers.
“No.” We arrive at my bus stop, and I stand in line. He stands next to me.
“Alan can come and get us, you know?” He looks at the long line of people. “We don’t have to catch the bus.”
I glare at him, unimpressed. Spoiled brat.
He smiles. “You’re still gorgeous when you’re angry . . . you know that?” he says loudly, and other people in the bus line begin to look over.
Red steam shoots from my ears at him making a scene. “Jameson, go the fuck home,” I whisper angrily.
“No.” He folds his arms in front of him like a petulant teenager. “I’m not leaving without you.”
People around us are all watching. I take out my Kindle and open it . . . anything to block him out.
“What are you reading?”
I remain silent as I pretend to read.
Damn him . . . he thinks he can turn up here and demand to see me . . . he can kiss my ass.
“I’m reading a good book at the moment,” he continues.
I keep reading.
“It’s called . . .” He pauses as he thinks for a moment. “It’s called ‘how to get your girl back after a midlife crisis.’”
The girls behind me snicker.
I twist my lips to try and hide my amusement. Don’t get fucking cute now, asshole.
“Chapter one is called ‘bus duty,’” he continues.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Yes, it says to follow her to the bus stop and keep talking aimlessly until she gets sick of the sound of your voice and has to talk to you . . . even if that first word is shut up . . . that’s something, right?”
I flick the page of my Kindle over as I stop myself from playing into his hands and saying the words shut up. The girls behind me snicker again. I