Chapter Twenty-Three

Emmett

Still reeling from the truth, I dismiss Ron and my legal team back to their desks and shut myself in my office. The image of Jenna’s face—outraged, betrayed, wounded—is seared into my mind. I had no idea she owned the downtown location we’re trying to buy.

I barely understand how this all happened, let alone know how to repair the damage. I desperately need advice. And at this point, it’s way too late and too difficult to explain this whole complicated story to my family. So I call the only other person in my life who already knows.

“Hey, man, how you doing?” Jesse answers after a few rings.

“Pretty bad, to be honest,” I say as I pull at my tie. “Do you have time to talk now?”

“Hmm . . .” A faint creak resonates over the phone, probably from him leaning back in his desk chair. “I shouldn’t, but I’ve been beating my head against this case all morning and I need a break anyway. What’s up?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking of where to begin. Once I’m composed, I explain everything while Jesse listens patiently. The baby we made. The weekend trips we had. The tapas. The moment I realized it wasn’t just sex. Today.

When I’m done, he lets out a long, heavy breath that mirrors my own. “You’re a total idiot.”

“I know.” I groan. “I fucked up royally, and now I have no idea what to do. Is there even any way to fix this mess, or—”

“Isn’t it obvious? Get your ass over to her place right now, apologize like you’ve never apologized before, and tell her you love her.”

I blink. Love. He’s right. I love Jenna. Shit. When did this happen? “Why would she give a fuck how I feel about her? Why would she even listen to what I have to say at all? She thinks I’ve known about this since day one, but I was just as fucking shocked as she was when she walked into the conference room.”

“You have to at least try.”

“She thinks I knocked her up without telling her I was trying to drive her out of business,” I say, spelling it out for him. “Weren’t you listening? If I were her, I’d slam the door in my face.”

“It was all an honest misunderstanding. Incredibly stupid, but honest. Just explain yourself like you did to me and beg for another chance. You do want another chance, right?”

I rub my forehead. “More than anything.”

“Well, there you go. Even if she doesn’t return your feelings, you can try to part on good terms, or at least non-homicidal terms. And if she feels the same . . .”

“Then it still wouldn’t work. My career is in the way. I wouldn’t be able to be there for her like she and the baby needs.”

“Calm down. It’s not like having two working parents will scar a kid for life. Sheri and I have—”

“But having a CEO for a dad will,” I almost shout. “You don’t get it, Jesse, this job eats families. I saw it happen up close when I was a kid. My relationship with Jenna would fall apart like my parents’ did, and I can’t inflict that same pain on her.”

“Wait, what?” Jesse sounds totally bewildered. “Is that why you think your parents were so fucked up? Baxter Books?” He lets out an odd bark of disbelief.

My jaw tightens. “You’re seriously laughing right now? I have a real problem here, dick.”

“You’re right, your dick started this whole problem, remember. I’m not laughing . . . sorry. Listen, I try not to psychoanalyze people, but clearly you needed some friendly meddling a long time ago. From everything you’ve told me about your parents, I think it’s safe to say there was a lot more wrong with their marriage than just your dad’s job.”

“That’s what Mom always blamed,” I say.

“Dude.” His flat tone packs a universe of impatient incredulity into that single syllable. “Your dad was a self-absorbed, emotionally constipated douche-waffle who used workaholism to dodge his responsibilities as a husband and father. He hid behind that excuse to avoid his own family, your mom did the same to justify having affairs all over the place, and right now, you’re hiding too.”

“Now, wait just a—” I retort hotly.

“I get it, man. Love is fucking terrifying.”

The urgent sincerity in his voice stops me cold.

“Pining and daydreaming hurts like hell, sure, but it’s safe,” he continues, every word punching me square in the gut. “Confessing to Jenna means facing the possibility that she’ll reject you . . . or that she won’t, and then you’ll have to actually be her partner, with all the hard work that that entails. Hell, you’ll have to be a father too. But I promise you, there’s no job more important or rewarding. I know you can step up to the plate, but you have to want to, and I think you’re ready.”

I swallow hard but can’t make it past the knot in my throat. Haltingly, I ask, “Are you sure? What if I ruin everything?”

“You won’t,” he replies, firm and earnest. “Just repeat after me. ‘I am not my father. I can be a better man if I try.’”

“But what about—”

“Say it.”

“Christ, fine, have it your way.” Feeling like a dipshit, I quickly mutter his words back to him. Then I protest, “But what about Baxter Books? We needed this deal to make our quarter.”

“The company won’t fall apart if you stop working crazy hours . . . and even if it does, it was always destined to die, and one man pulling overtime every week wouldn’t have saved it. Learn how to delegate, for fuck’s sake. Hire a new VP if you have to. I’m not saying it’s effortless, but balancing a career and a family can be done. Just look at me, and your brother, and your sister.” He pauses. “Speaking of which, I should probably get back to this case.”

“Okay. You gave me a lot to think about. Thanks for ignoring your work to talk to me.” I really needed someone to have faith in me right now.

“Anytime, dude,” he replies with a warm chuckle. “Good luck. Just remember what I said. And let me know how it goes.”

“I will,” I promise.

“If you chicken out, I’ll break into your apartment and punch you in the nuts until you talk to Jenna.”

“All right, I get the message. Back to work already.” I hang up and resign myself to a distracted workday of mulling over Jesse’s advice.

• • •

As soon as five o’clock hits, I drive to Jenna’s apartment and knock gently until she opens up. But as soon as she sees who it is, she swings the door right back again. I barely catch it before it slams shut on my fingers.

“Wait,” I plead. “We need to talk. Please, just hear me out.”

Her eyes flash. “Why should I? What the hell could you possibly have to say to me?” The fury in her expression stings, but not half as much as the hurt and fear, and knowing I caused it.

I take a tentative step forward. “First, let me say I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. I honestly didn’t know you owned the Lit Apothecary until this morning when you walked in. Everything we’ve done together, everything I said to you . . .” I swallow hard. “Everything I felt for you, it was all genuine. I never would have manipulated you into pregnancy just to drive you out of business.”

If she thinks I master-planned this, then she truly doesn’t know me at all.

“Even if you’re telling the truth, it doesn’t matter.” Now she doesn’t sound angry so much as weary. “Somehow I don’t think you’re going to withdraw your offer, so you’re still trying to take away the business I’ve been dreaming of and slaving over for years. And the worst part is, I was going to let you. For the sake of my baby . . . our baby.”

I look away in painful guilt. I have no idea what to say to that because she’s right. All the apologies in the world won’t change the financial reality. She needs the money and Baxter Books needs her storefront. But I can’t let it all end here. There’s so much more at stake, so much more that I have to tell her.

At last, I say quietly, “Jenna?”

“What?” Her voice is flat and cold and has no fight left in it.

Without breaking eye contact, I sink to my knees, kneeling directly before her. If groveling is what it will take, I’ll grovel all night.

Her eyes widen. “What are you doing? Get up.”

I take her hands in mine, expecting her to jerk them away. She does flinch, clearly not expecting my touch. But she doesn’t move, just fixes me with her knife-like gaze, braced and waiting to see where I’m going with this.

Looking deep into her eyes, hoping against hope that my sincerity shines through, I say, “I’m in love with you, Jenna.”

She blinks. Opens her mouth, then closes it again.

“I know I said I wasn’t interested in any relationship, let alone a serious relationship, and maybe it was true that day in the elevator when we first met. But the thought of going back to my old life without you . . . it’s not enough for me anymore.” I stroke her knuckles with the pads of my thumbs. “To be honest, it hasn’t been for a long time now. I’ve fallen hard for you. I want us to be together . . . me, you, and the baby. And if you’ll have me, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win back your trust.”

“I . . .” Her eyes are shining and she swallows hard. “But what about work, what about the offer?”

“My feelings for you have nothing to do with work. Rip up the contract, if you like. I love you. That won’t change.”

“Oh, Emmett.” Her voice is soft, little more than a murmur, and tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill. “I want to try too.”

My heart soars. I leap to my feet, but before I can sweep her into my arms, she adds in a cracking voice, “But it scares me.”

“I know how you feel.” God, do I ever. My heart won’t slow down. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. “I also know that we can do this together.”

She scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand. “How? I didn’t plan any of this. I don’t know what to do, I—”

“Neither do I. But if we both want this, we can make it work.” Remembering what Aubrey told me, I say, “There are no guarantees in life. If you’re afraid to try, you’ll miss all the good stuff.”

Jenna chews her lip, her gaze both intent and fragile. “What about the contracts we signed? The NDA, the waivers . . .”

“I’ll rip them up,” I reply. “We don’t need them anymore. I want to be a good father to our child. And if you’ll let me try, you’ll make me the happiest man in the world.” I pull her to me and hug her tight.

She returns my embrace . . . then brushes her lips against mine in a featherlight, hesitant, but unmistakably certain kiss. “Show me,” she murmurs.

I return it with relieved fervor. The dance of our lips and tongues turns hotter, needier, as we cling together, until I lead her to the bedroom to demonstrate just how much I intend to love her from now on.

• • •

Satisfied and damp with sweat, we curl up together, entwined amidst her tangled sheets. I can still barely believe that Jenna’s given me this precious second chance, I close my eyes to savor her warmth, her feminine scent, the weight of her head over my still-racing heart. But I open them again when she props herself up on her elbow to face me, a somber turn to her full mouth.

“Listen, about Baxter Books’ offer,” she begins.

I shake my head. “It’s your store. You can do whatever you want with it. I won’t push you one way or the other.”

She glances away, worrying her lip. “I admit, I’m struggling here. I have no idea what I should do. Going back to my old job is the responsible thing to do, but I’ve worked so hard on the Lit Apothecary.”

“It’s okay,” I say, wanting to reassure her. “Take the deal, don’t take it, whatever is best for you. Just don’t do something you’ll regret.” I stroke her cheek with the back of my fingers. “We’ll figure it out. Together. It’s your choice, and whatever you choose, you can rest assured that I won’t let you be unhappy. Tell me you want the moon, and I’ll pull all the strings I can to make sure you get it.”

Slowly, she nods, happiness blooming on her face. God, I want to see that heart-swelling smile every day for the rest of my life.

“All right,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” I lean up to kiss her, slow and gentle.

She murmurs against my mouth, “I love you.”

My stomach somersaults at her declaration. “I love you too,” I answer, my voice thick with emotion.

She sighs. “Say it again.”

I obey, punctuating each repetition with a peck on her cheek, her lips, and her forehead until she giggles.

Sitting up in the bed, Jenna tugs the sheet up to cover her beautifully full breasts. Then she says, “Let’s go out to eat.”

“All right,” I say with a chuckle. “Any opinions?”

“I want . . .” Her brow furrows in concentration and confusion. “Pickles? But also cheese? And maybe chili peppers. Weird.”

I laugh. “I see you’ve hit the ‘pregnancy craving’ stage. Well, how about we go back to Comal de Belén for some Mexican food? They can definitely handle spicy cheese, and maybe pickled veggies.”

“Where we had our first dinner date.” She grins at me. “Perfect. And you can tell Tomás you’re finally settling down.”

“Oh God.” I groan. “He’ll just find something else to hassle me about.”

Still teasing each other gently, we get dressed and head out to dinner.