“He didn’t even ask me anything. He just assumed the worst. Like I could be a dirt bag who would steal someone else’s ideas!”

I’m whining to both Madison and Becket about what happened this morning. I’ve already told them the whole story and realize I’m repeating myself, indignant about how Knox treated me. Heck, he probably won’t even notice or care about the slides with my watermark. Back at Southern Charm Lifestyle, my boss had suggested I include that detail in my presentations as an added safeguard. I just never thought I’d see the day when I had to make mention of it.

Not that it had made any difference, of course.

Madison took a personal day as soon as I’d called her, barely holding in my tears, after I’d left Knox standing in my office. I hadn’t even bothered to say a word to Keri who’d been sitting at her desk outside my office door, smiling smugly. I knew it was pointless to waste my breath, to waste one single word on the likes of her. As they’d say back home, she was like a rattlesnake in the tall grasses of the bayou, just lying in wait for the unsuspecting person.

Becket’s still in his workout gear since I’d interrupted him from his “light cardio” run on the treadmill.

“So what’s your game plan?” Becket asks.

“Well, remember who sought me out at the last gala we attended?”

Becket’s eyebrows rise with what looks like surprise. “Elise at East Coast Couture?” He mentions the editor-in-chief of the well-known magazine who’d surprised me when she’d easily addressed me by name at the gala.

Elise had taken me aside with her husband and informed me that she’d been following my career and was impressed with my work. She’d mentioned she was starting a new brand of East Coast Couture magazine that she wanted to get up and running soon.

As part whim and part job security in case things went south with my position at F&F with Knox at the helm, I’d done a live video interview with her. I hadn’t heard anything back until she’d contacted me right before I’d left for Mobile with Knox, wanting to schedule a final face-to-face interview. We’d had some issues trying to make our schedules match up, as well as an anticipated start date should they offer me the job.

It’s pretty ironic that I should find myself available now for not only the interview, but for the job as well.

“I’m scheduled to fly up late Wednesday and do the interview Thursday morning.”

“That’s awesome!” Madison gives me an encouraging smile. “So you’ll be here still, right?”

I nod and explain that Elise wants to have a southeastern location for their new headquarters and publication, and how she envisions it to be centered around all things known to women in this region. She wants it to be something women can connect with more meaningfully and garner the interest of others who might pick up the magazine.

Madison nudges her shoulder against mine playfully. “This would be a unique opportunity, but I’ll definitely miss you at work.”

“I still vote for me siccing the guys on him.” This comes from Becket who has repeatedly offered to get his linemen to “rough up” Knox.

“You guys don’t need any bad press or lawsuits,” I say with a weak smile. “But thanks.”

Becket’s lips part, likely with another maiming suggestion, when his phone rings and plays a song that sounds like…

Madison and I stare at one another incredulously.

“Is that,” she asks slowly, “Justin Bieber?”

“Singing ‘Baby’?” I echo as Becket frantically answers his phone, darting up from the couch and beginning to pace.

“Are you serious? Holy sh—er, I mean, crap!” He runs a hand through his hair, slightly disheveling it, before grabbing his keys from my dining room table. “I’ll be right there, Presley. Wait!” His lips curve up at the corners. “Is your Marine husband there?”

I shake my head at Becket’s attempt at harassment, but realize there’s no need since I soon hear a deep voice boom through his cell phone.

“I’m a SEAL, Jones. Get it right or you’ll never get to hold our baby girl.”

Becket abruptly stops on his way to the door. “Did you just threaten me?” Then, in a louder voice, “Presley! Did you hear what Hendy said?”

“Get off the damn phone and get your pretty face up here,” Hendy growls.

Becket grins mischievously and ends the call before turning to me and Madison. “Do you mind—”

“I’ve got to head home.” She rises from the couch. “I can log in remotely and catch up on some things.” Enfolding me in a tight hug, she whispers for me to call her if I need her before pulling the door closed behind her.

Becket tugs on his ball cap and peers down at me. “Presley asked about you, if you might want to come along with me, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to…” He trails off, and I know why.

But after the day I’ve had, I need to witness the love between a husband and wife and the miracle of birth.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

“Why can’t I get a turn already?”

Both Hendy and I stare at Becket in disbelief.

“Becket,” I scold, “stop whining.”

Presley’s husband shoots Becket a glare before responding calmly. “If you want to use that baby carrier you’ve been trying out, you’ll cut down on the whiny shit.”

“You should probably watch your language,” Becket retorts.

“That’s enough,” I warn my friend with an exasperated roll of my eyes.

I return my attention to Hendy who’s basking in the delight of being a new father. In the rocking chair, he softly murmurs to the tiny newborn lying against his bare chest, and emotion wells up within me at the sight.

This man is such a complex paradox, with his extremely fit and muscled body in contrast with the horrific scarring on his back as well as one side of his face—a result of what he’d endured while being held captive during his time as a Navy SEAL. His tender expression, filled with love as he talks to his little girl, is something I’ll not soon forget.

“You’ll be brave and bold, won’t you, girl?” he utters quietly, his eyes alight with affection as he peers down at her. “Just like your mom.”

Soft footsteps sound down the hallway and one of Presley’s four midwives who helped deliver little Emilia emerges with a smile for the new father.

“She’s all cleaned up now.” The older woman turns to address me and Becket. “Give us a moment and I’ll let you know once our new mama’s ready to see you.”

Hendy carefully rises from the chair, holding Emilia securely as he heads toward the midwife. “Time to go see your mom.” He offers his baby a lopsided half-smile, due in part to the scarring on the one side of his face. “You’re probably missing her already, aren’t you…” His words trail off as he and the midwife disappear down the hallway.

Becket’s eyes find mine. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he whispers with the same awe I feel.

I work hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. “She is.”

His gaze is searching. “You okay?”

I nod quickly before forcing a smile. “Just happy for them.”

Without a word, Becket rises from the couch and strides over to where I sit in the chair, his outstretched hands beckoning me. I place my hands in his, and he yanks me up from my seat, promptly enfolding me in his strong, comforting embrace.

He presses his lips to the top of my head, and one hand soothes me in slow strokes over my back as he murmurs softly, “One day, Blue.”

I clamp my lips together to withhold the emotion brimming at the surface because this isn’t the time or place for my own pity party. Nodding against Becket’s chest, I exhale a long breath.

“One day,” I echo in a whisper.

* * *

Becket drops me off at my apartment, seeing me safely inside even though I’ve repeatedly assured him I’m fine, just emotionally wrung out after the day’s events.

He stands at my door, hesitating, and I know he’ll probably offer to stay over just in case I need him. But I also know he has a mandatory workout scheduled early in the morning and needs a good night’s rest in his own bed.

“Thanks for everything.” I wrap my arms around him in a tight embrace. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” His voice is laced with humor, and he eases away to peer down at me, his face a mask of concern. “I hate that I can’t drive you to the airport since I have a team meeting but—”

“Becket.” I stop him with a palm against his chest. “I’ll be fine. It’s really not a big deal.”

“And you’ll let me know once you land safely? And after the interview?”

“Yes, Mom,” I tease softly.

His lips quirk, and he gently cradles my face in his hands before landing a loud, smacking kiss on my forehead. Releasing me, he heads toward the door. “Bye, gorgeous.”

“Bye.” I close the door after him and lock it. Leaning my back against it, I release a heavy breath and try to muster up the excitement to pack for my flight tomorrow.

I should feel excited. This is an incredible opportunity. Yet, with everything that’s transpired, I’m struggling to generate even a modicum of enthusiasm.

With a sigh, I push away from the door, chalking my mood up to everything that’s happened today. Before I can take two steps in the direction of my bedroom, there’s a knock on my door.

My brows crease as I wonder what Becket could possibly need. I unlock and tug open my door, all the while trying to think of what he could have left behind…

Only to find myself staring at the last man I want to see.

Abruptly and without a word, I start closing the door. Unfortunately, the force of his strong palm slapping against the hard surface halts the closure.

“Emma Jane, I’m sorry.”

My teeth clench in anger. “I. Don’t. Care.” I lean my weight against the door, to no avail, of course.

“Please.” The hoarse desperation in his tone triggers a weakness within me.

Damn him.

My body deflates. “Fine.”

What does it even matter? I think to myself.

Spinning on my heels, I leave him to close the door and head into the kitchen. Ignoring him as he approaches me, I feel the full weight of his eyes on me as I pour a healthy amount of cabernet into a wine glass. Lord knows I’m going to need it.

With my back to him, I take a fortifying sip. “What do you want, Knox,” I say with weary resignation, not posing it as a question, as I fiddle with the tiny charm encircling the stem of my glass.

“I’m sorry.” His apology is spoken softly but with a noticeable firmness, heavy with regret. “I shouldn’t have accused you without even speaking to you first. It—everything she told me—fed into past insecurities about you…into my fear of trusting you again. I’ve never acted that way before with any business decision.”

“It doesn’t matter.” With a weary sigh, I turn, lean back against the kitchen counter, and cross my arms protectively. “It’s done. I’m submitting my resignation tomorrow.” Just as his lips part, I rush ahead and finish. “I have a final interview with East Coast Couture on Thursday.”

His jaw tenses, features turning steely, as disappointment cascades over his features. “That’s it? Just like that?”

Releasing a humorless laugh, I glare hard at him. “That’s rich coming from the man who accused me of stealing intellectual property today.”

He throws up his hands in evident frustration. “I came here to apologize!” His voice rises. “Which you never did, by the way.”

My own voice increases in volume. “Apologize for what?”

“For leaving me at the fucking altar without a damn word!”

Staring at him incredulously, my jaw slackens. “I can’t believe it comes back to that.” My tone turns ripe with sarcasm. “You think you were done so wrong.”

“You left me!” he explodes.

“You betrayed me!” I yell back. “You told my father not to worry,” my tone changes, laden with sarcasm, “that you’d give me a little pat on the head and have me forget all about my dreams of having a career I loved.”

He falls silent a moment, his brows creasing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard you, Knox,” I snarl. “I heard you and my father talking right before we were due to walk down the aisle.”

He suddenly pales, lips parting in dismay and probably guilt, as well. “Emma Jane…”

I manage to muster a wan smile. “No worries, though. I heard it all, and that’s why I didn’t stick around. No way was I going to become some Stepford wife with nothing but party planning and gardening to fill my days.” I spit the words out with venom. “Hell, even Katherine knew!”

Knox remains silent, standing stock-still, and continues to stare at me. “I don’t believe it.” He takes a step back, almost clumsily, as if in a daze. “You believed that? That I was telling your father the truth?”

His eyes bore into me as he speaks carefully, his tone even. “I always hated the way your father treated you and your mother. The old-school views he had about women. The opinions he had about you getting your degree and landing that job. I was only,” he swallows thickly, “placating him that day. Telling him what he wanted to hear.” Pain is etched across his features. “I would never have said you couldn’t pursue a career, let alone seek out your dreams.”

After a brief pause, he adds vehemently, “And I never told anyone about that conversation with your father, aside from Wells.” He shakes his head. “Katherine’s always been jealous of you, Emma Jane.”

“But,” I falter slightly, before regaining steam, “what about the home office you set up for my”—I break off and hook my fingers in air quotes—“‘monogramming business’?”

When he answers, his tone hovers between stunned and exasperated. “I thought you might like to do that on the side.” A severe crease appears between his brows. “I never meant for it to seem degrading, but for you to have your special place…”

Oh, no. No, no, no. This can’t possibly be true.

Can it?

The room feels like it’s closing in on me. Like a thousand-pound weight is sitting on my chest.

Is it possible that I’d had it all wrong? Had I wrongly believed what I’d heard? Had I doubted my own fiancé and believed the worst of him?

I’d believed that he was just like my own father.

My hand flies to cover my mouth in horror. “No.”

Knox’s expression of hurt, the disbelief on his face is like a knife stabbing my chest. “You were only giving him lip service?” I whisper.

He holds my gaze for a beat before his expression hardens. “Of course, I was.” Snorting derisively, he adds, “I loved you, Emma Jane.”

Oh, God. Clutching desperately at the countertop, my chin drops to my chest as I stare down at the granite, my vision blurring with tears of regret.

Regret for my mistake made in such youthful haste, drenched in utter heartache.

I'd been so adamant about escaping my father's stronghold after fighting him for each and every morsel of independence. No daughter should feel she's incapable of making her own decisions. I hadn't been able to bear the idea of continuing to live like that, with Knox merely taking his place.

“Guess we’re even, huh?” he offers with a laugh devoid of humor. “You thought the worst of me back then, and this time ’round, I thought the worst of you. The only thing is, you end up jumping ship each time, right?”

My head whips around as I gape at him. “I’m sorry, Knox,” I offer weakly, my throat painfully tight with emotion.

“Yeah.” He runs his hands over his head before slipping them into the pockets of his pants. Staring down at his shoes, he blows out a long, heavy breath. “Mr. Feldman wants you to be the one to present everything to him and his partners. The only time he has in his schedule is for tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.” My voice is filled with resignation.

He merely nods, his eyes still averted, before turning to exit the kitchen.

I watch him retreat, not knowing exactly what to say or do at this moment. I want so badly to divulge everything, but I’m too shell-shocked at what I’ve just learned.

Right as he lays his hand on the door handle, the words spill from my lips. “I’m sorry for not believing in you.”

He turns his head to the side, eyes downcast, and speaks so softly that I strain to hear him. “You didn’t just fail to believe in me, Emma Jane.” With a slight shake of his head, he finishes with, “You didn’t believe in us.” Then, he closes the door quietly behind him.

I promptly crumble to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs and curl upon myself.

And the tears begin to fall.

* * *

I can distinctly recall the last time I’d used this much makeup, attempting to conceal the puffiness of my eyes from crying. It seems I’ve come full circle.

Mr. Feldman made things go much smoother, thankfully, and he immediately insisted that we set the deal into motion as soon as possible. I barely held back a wince when he shook Knox’s hand after we’d finished up, telling him how lucky he is to have me on board.

“You’d better do everything in your power to keep her around,” he’d boasted while offering me a quick wink.

With a weak smile in return, I’d merely nodded and shook everyone’s hands as they’d left with Knox in tow to see them out.

Now, I’m packing up my things, preparing to head out and catch my flight to New York for the interview. I’ve already submitted my resignation to Human Resources as well as sent a copy to Knox’s email.

“I received your email.”

My head snaps up at hearing Knox’s voice, and I find him standing at my office door. I nod silently and finish packing up my briefcase. Due to my minimalist tendencies, I really didn’t have many personal items aside from the few small framed snapshots of me, Madison, and Becket on my desk.

“When does your flight leave?”

I regard him with wary suspicion. “At three.”

Glancing up at the time on the clock, I note that it’s nearing eleven o’clock. I have to allot the normal two hours to get through the security checkpoints, and it takes about thirty minutes to get to the airport from here.

“Are you driving? Or taking a cab?”

“I’ll probably schedule a ride on the Lyft app.” I wave a hand toward my cell phone lying on my desk.

“I can drive you.” My eyes collide with his in surprise. “So we can talk.”

I wonder what else he could possibly want to talk to me about. “If it’s to try to get me to stay here—”

“It’s not.” With the barest smile in place, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, not one hundred percent, anyway.” Sobering, he adds, “I really just wanted to discuss some things.” There’s a brief pause. “And I’d like to show you something before we hit the airport.”

I study his features before releasing a sigh. “Fine. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”

“I’ll get my keys and meet you back here.”