You’re not alone anymore, Emerson. You never were.
Betsy’s words still linger in my mind when Desi walks in a couple of hours later.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I say with a sarcastic smile as I brush past her without saying anything else.
“You talk to him yet?”
Jesus. Is this the Save Grant brigade? First Betsy. Now Desi. If Leo joins the party, I might just leave after all. It’s really hard not to think about someone when they keep getting brought up.
“I have shit to do, Des. I have this class coming in to jump. I have . . . I just have shit to do.”
“You think that’s smart, Em?”
“What?” I busy myself with papers so that I don’t have to meet her eyes.
“Jumping. From an airplane. You know, thousands of feet above the ground. I sure as hell wouldn’t trust you to take me in the state you’re in. Like I said, you look like hell. And distracted. Exhausted. And if I’m honest—”
“By all means, don’t hold back.”
“Sketchy.”
“Sketchy?”
“Yeah,” she says and then falls silent until I meet her eyes for the first time. “You look like you couldn’t complete two tasks if your life depended on it.”
“That’s just because I’m trying to avoid talking to you.”
“Well, at least you’re being honest.”
I stop fidgeting and sigh. She’s right, and I don’t want to admit it. “Look, Des. I’m dealing with a lot of shit. I appreciate you coming to check on me, but nothing has changed. Nothing is going to change.”
“So, you’re going to shut me out just like you’re doing to him?” she asks, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.
“How do you know I’m shutting him out? Did you talk to him?” My voice escalates in pitch, and when Leo walks in and sees the silent standoff waging between Desi and me, he backs back out of the office without saying a word.
“I didn’t say I spoke to him.”
She implied it, though.
“I’m not shutting you out. I’m just . . .” I look out the window to where I’ve noticed a cruiser drive by several times over the past week and hate that I hope to see it.
“Correction. You’re not shutting me out, you just aren’t dealing is what you’re doing. In that head of yours, you’re trying to figure out how you can rabbit out of here without messing up everything you’ve worked so hard for. The loan. Blue Skies. Me, your only family.” Her voice softens. “I’m not going to let you run, Em.”
I hate that my eyes burn with tears. I hate that the chocolate cake she brought me holds no appeal. I despise that as much as I hate Grant right now, I also miss everything about him.
“He hurt me,” I whisper, the words barely audible, as if it pains me to admit it.
“Yeah, I know he did. And I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry you’re hurt, but sometimes, when you’re in a relationship with someone, that happens.” I start to reject her notion of relationship, but she holds her hand up and nips it in the bud. “Have you considered giving him the benefit of the doubt?”
“Why does he deserve it?”
“That’s up to you to decide, but in the meantime, you’re miserable as hell, you look like shit, and in the end, you’re only hurting yourself by not listening to him. Have you stopped for a single second to consider that maybe you’re wrong? That maybe Grant is telling the truth about pulling the file accidentally and never opening it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to hear her reasoning because she should be the one supporting me. She should be the one telling me I’m in the right and to dump him.
But she isn’t.
“I’m not wrong,” I say, using anger to fuel my denial.
“Maybe you are.” She shrugs with a challenging lift of her eyebrows. “Maybe you’re willing to believe he hurt you because it’s so much easier for you to be mad and shut people out than it is to believe them. Because believing him means you might have to put yourself and your heart on the line.”
“I have my rules, Des.”
She’s wrong. She has to be.
She laughs, and I hate the condescending sound to it. “And look what happened when you threw them out the window. You came to life, Emerson. He made you feel alive. Anyone who can do that to you shouldn’t be confined to your self-preservationist rules. They deserve the benefit of the doubt. They deserve a second chance.”
“I have to get to work.”
“Don’t jump today.”
“Head up. Wings out,” I say as I walk into the conference room and away from the truth she’s telling that I don’t think I’m ready to hear.
And straight into Christopher.
Startled, I jump back, but he keeps his hand firmly on my arm.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, completely uncomfortable as I yank my arm away from him.
“The side door was open. I didn’t want to interrupt your girl time.”
My skin crawls with the knowledge that he was eavesdropping. “Next time use the front door please.”
“Or you could answer my calls when I make them, or were you too busy sleeping around with the Malone boys?” He tsks. “Big mistake on your part.”
“Mistake or not, it’s none of your business.” I grit my teeth for the umpteenth time. Patience.
Only a few more days, and I’ll never have to deal with this slime bag again.
His hand is back on my bicep without warning. “Apparently, you don’t want your loan, Ms. Reeves?” he says, purring out my last name and causing my stomach to revolt.
“You asking me out for dinner has nothing to do with my loan.”
“It has everything to do with your loan.”
“Excuse me? I wasn’t aware that when I signed the loan application with you that prostitution was part of the deal.”
He runs the tip of his finger down my arm, and I want to slap his hand away. “You have everything to do with the deal. Don’t forget that I am the only one willing to take a risk on you, Emerson. I’m the only lender even remotely willing to issue a loan with your credit history . . . so, I think it’s you who should be bending to me.”
“No. I don’t bend for anyone. It’s as simple as that.”
“No?”
“You heard me, Chris. Your sexual harassment bullshit doesn’t fly with me, and I’m sick of putting up with it. I’m sure the board of ethics wouldn’t approve of it, either,” I say without even knowing if there is such a thing as a board of ethics for lending practices. “Get the loan approved. Fund the money to the owners. Close the deal. Do your job.”
His chuckle scrapes over my skin like nails on a chalkboard. “Your loan was denied this morning.”
“What?” If I could get whiplash from the change in conversation, I would have it. “What did you just say?”
Is he fucking kidding me?
“Yep. It was rejected today. If you would have answered my calls or listened to any of my voice mails, you would have known that already . . .” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans one shoulder against the wall. “Don’t worry, though. When the lender notified us, the Skies’ broker said they were going to move forward and accept their backup offer. I’m sure if you ask nicely, they’ll put in a good word for you with the new owners. Maybe they’ll give you a job.”
“How is that even possible?” I shout as every part of me rages in a disbelief I can’t even process.
“Well, when you drag your feet and don’t provide your loan officer the things he needs, it can happen quite easily.” His smarmy smirk matches the tone in his voice. “One missing piece, one mistyped figure, is all it takes for the lender to throw it out.”
“You bastard.”
“Not from where I stand.”
“You knew my loan was denied, and you pretended it wasn’t to try to get me to sleep with you.” My fists clench and body vibrates with anger. “Get. Out.”
“Too bad, this place could have been all yours.” He holds his hands out to his sides and winks. “Good luck finding someone to lend you the money now . . . but then again, it doesn’t matter. Your dream is already being sold to someone else.”
And with that, he slams the side door shut as I stand there and just stare at it.
With each breath, each beat of my heart, each tremble of my hands, the anger slowly morphs into disbelief.
Then disbelief gives way to shock.
Then shock to devastation.
“Em, you okay? It sounded like something fell,” Leo says as he clears the doorway and looks around, his constant movement faltering when he sees me.
“Emerson?”
I just lost my loan.
“I’m fine. I just . . .”
I just lost my fresh start.
“I just need to get out of here for a bit. Can you handle everything?”
“Sure. Yes. You sure you’re okay?” Concern laces his tone.
“Yeah.”
I just lost my dream.