Emma
A familiar sensation washes over me as I slide the nude colored Jimmy Choo over my left heel. Confidence. A feeling I haven’t felt in as long as I can remember. I hope I haven’t forgotten how to walk in these things. Walking into a job interview and falling flat on your face doesn’t exactly make the best first impression. Unless you’re Anastasia Steele, which I am not. You’ve got this, Emma. It’s like riding a bike. Except I’m not riding. I’m walking. In 4-inch heels. It’ll be fine. Just focus.
I smooth the fabric of my black pencil skirt then straighten the shoulders on my blush colored, silk top. I stand in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom and size up the woman in front of me. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a French twist and pearl earrings paired with a light pink shirt give her a feminine softness while the heels and pencil skirt tell the world she’s confident in her skin. Even though she’s anything but that. My eyes lock with hers and for a split second they begin to water. No messing up the mascara, Emma. This woman, the one who dares to venture out of the house in something other than yoga pants and a t-shirt, is a stranger to me now. She’s been gone for so long I didn’t even realize I missed her anymore until now.
My heart pounds against my ribs, blood pulsing loud in my ears. Oh, God. I don’t know if I can do this. I need to pee. What if my voice cracks? Or I start to stutter? I haven’t been on a job interview in six years, and at that time I was fresh out of college, ready to take the world by its balls. I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t afraid to go get it. But over the past five years this house has become my safe haven. Inside it I know what to expect and how to deal with it. Its foundation holds my secrets, and its walls hide my pain. Outside of its threshold, I don’t know who I am.
That’s a lie. I am Bastain’s Emma. That’s who I am.
I think back to the way I felt two days ago when I got the email from Cameron Inc. about the interview. It was as if I’d won the lottery. I jumped out of the chair and squealed like a teenager, high fiving the empty air. Then I thanked God no one else was home to see my excitement. Poor Gatsby didn’t know what was going on, but he yapped and celebrated right along with me. We might have even danced in the middle of the living room. It was an amazing feeling, the acceptance. They said they were impressed with my resume and would like to speak to me about a management position. This has to be a fluke. I don’t have a resume. I have a degree and one job in my employment history- one. I handled all of the accounts for a major telecommunications company all the way through college and up until six months after the accident. I was a model employee, and I had a multitude of accomplishments. I had a future. But, after the that night, everything changed. My life changed. A lot of lives changed. I haven’t set foot in an office other than Bastain’s in almost six years. I’m not a businesswoman anymore. I am Bastain’s Emma now. But I have to do this. I have to walk into that interview and make them believe what I walk out onto the street and make everyone else believe. I’m not lost. I’m not afraid. I’m secure. I’m confident. I’m capable.
I’ll wear the outfit and force the smile, and I’ll play the part to perfection. It shouldn’t be too hard. I’ve been doing it for years.
“Why do you need a job, Em? Don’t I give you enough? Don’t I make you happy?” Bastain asks, his voice pained as he runs his fingers down my bare arm.
I knew telling him about the interview would upset him. I don’t know what made me think I could even get away with it. I help him at his dealership. I take care of things around the house. I’m here when he needs me. That’s my job. That’s what I need to do. “You give me more than I deserve.”
It’s the truth. I destroyed his life. I broke him, and he still took me in. He loved me regardless of my mistakes. I nestle into his chest and let the guilt consume me. Guilt for wanting more, for thinking what I have isn’t enough. He kisses the top of my head then presses the button on the remote, turning up the volume on the basketball game. The conversation is over. He’s reset my mentality right back to where he wants it. He’s made his point, and it’s not open for discussion.
Alex
I haven’t seen Heidi Lemaire since the night I told her I was coming to Miami, right after she called me by my best friend’s name while I was settled between her thighs. I don’t blame either one of them for what happened. Heidi never made any promises or gave me false hope. I knew what she wanted… and what she didn’t want, right from the start. She was straightforward from the beginning. I’m the one who let my feelings get in the way. It was obvious what they had was so much more than she ever wanted with me. So, I conceded. I held up the white flag, and I let her go. And I’ve spent the last year making damn sure that doesn’t happen again.
Now here she is, walking hand in hand through the coffee shop with him. Nick called me last week to let me know they’d be in town for the day. He is in between sessions and wanted to take advantage of the rare break. As a United States Senator, he doesn’t have a lot of room in his schedule for letting off steam. They’re on their way to the Bahamas and wanted to stop and say hello. I thought the sight of them together would affect me more than it does. But, as I sit at my usual table in the corner watching her move toward me with a radiant smile on her face, I am content. She looks happy. He looks happy. And it doesn’t seem to bother me even a fraction as much as I thought it would. I return their smiles and wave them over, standing to greet Heidi with a hug as she walks up.
She’s every bit as beautiful as I remember. Her dirty blonde hair falls over her shoulders, and her bright yellow strapless dress glows against her tan skin. She runs her hand over the top of my head with wide eyes. “Wow. No more curls?”
“Trying something new,” I reply, a bit surprised her touch doesn’t excite me the way it used to.
She cocks her head and examines me a minute. “I like it.”
Nick pulls out her chair then shakes my hand as he takes his seat beside her. “I always thought you used the curls to get women,” he says with a chuckle.
“Oh yeah? I was sure it was the dimples.” I finish my sentence with a cheesy grin aimed at Heidi for emphasis. She laughs.
“He’s got a point, baby,” Heidi says to Nick. He puts his arm over the back of her chair, mindlessly rubbing circles on her shoulder then rolls his eyes.
They are perfectly comfortable together. He touches her like his hands were made just for that purpose. She tilts her head to one side as he glides his fingertip up the side of her throat. I want this. This connection they have. I thought I was content with my routine. I thought going to work, teaching my classes at the gym, and having dinner at a table for one was enough to satisfy me. I never imagined I’d want more after the pain I felt when Heidi broke me. But, here she is, sitting across from me with the man who stole her heart, and all I can do is wish she were someone else, someone with platinum blonde hair and an affection for nonfat lattes. And that I was the one touching her that way.
“So, when are you gonna pack your bags and move into the White House?” I take a sip of my black coffee and watch as their eyes meet with some secret I’m not privileged to know.
“Three years ‘til the next election. You might see a familiar name on the ballot,” Nick says with a wink.
“You’re shitting me.”
He and Heidi share a smile. “Nope. Just have a few things to take care of first.” He locks eyes with her, sending an instant blush to her cheeks. There’s no twinge of jealousy, no resentment. I have no reaction to their affection other than joy. And hope. Hope to one day have what they have. All I have to do is find her again.
Nick gets a phone call and excuses himself from the table, leaving me alone with Heidi. There’s no uncomfortable silence or awkwardness you’d expect from two ex-lovers. I’m not bitter with her for her choice. After all, I helped her make it. Seeing the two of them together like this assures me it was the right thing to do.
“So, he’s really going to do it, huh?”
Her face lights up with a proud smile. “Yes, I guess he is.”
“Heidi Lemaire- from single mom to first lady- now that’s a story worth telling, love.”
“He hasn’t won yet, Alex.”
“No. But he will. We both know that. Nick Knight doesn’t know how to lose.” I didn’t mean for the comment to come out the way it did. I wasn’t referring to her or our situation. It was a simple observation of my best friend, but it makes her uncomfortable. She shifts in her seat, so I reassure her with a smile. “I’m glad you’re happy. Both of you. You both deserve it.”
“Well, even if he does win, I’m not exactly First Lady material,” she says, holding her left hand up as she wiggles her fingers. “Last time I checked, you have to share the President’s last name for that title.”
They’ve been together almost two years, raising his daughter and her son. They share a home, and go through all the motions, but he’s been reluctant to take that next step. There’s a sadness in her tone that makes me feel sorry for her. I don’t let the feeling linger too long, though, because I happen to know Nick planned this vacation with the intention of proposing.
“Formalities, love,” I reply with a wink, “Be patient with him. He’ll get there.”
I’ve been dreading this day since I got the phone call letting me know they were coming. I haven’t seen the two of them together since a political party at Nick’s house in New Orleans. That’s a night I’ll never forget. He walked in on me helping Heidi with her dress and got the wrong idea. I left with a busted lip and a black eye, and the two of them didn’t speak for months. That was a different time, and we were all different people then. I didn’t know what to expect from today, but I’m relieved to know this woman doesn’t have the same power over me she used to. I guess time does heal the broken-hearted.
Then, as if fate has finally decided to give me a break, I hear the barista call out, “Venti nonfat vanilla latte.” You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’ve been to this cafe every day for the past month and today- now- is when she decides to show up. Awesome. Heidi starts to speak but all I hear is static as my eyes race to the woman headed to pick up her coffee. It’s her. My stomach flops.
“Erm, sorry, love. But… will you excuse me for just a moment?”
I don’t give her time to answer before I am out of my chair and on my way to the counter to meet her.