"Hey. It's okay."
"It's not okay." She's crying into my shoulder, her voice muffled. "Nothing's okay. Everything's falling apart and I can't hold it together anymore."
"Then don't. Let me help."
"You can't help with this."
"Try me."
She pulls back, wiping her eyes. "The Preston offer—it's good. Really good. Partnership, resources, support staff. Everything I should want. But accepting it means admitting I can't handle my practice alone."
"Emma, you've been running a solo practice for years while handling billion-dollar cases. You're not failing. You're just realizing you can't do everything by yourself forever."
"But that's exactly what I'm supposed to do. I'm Emma Dawson. I handle everything."
"Says who?"
"Everyone. Me. The universe."
"I told you, the universe needs to lower its expectations, as do you." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "What about Celtic Knot?"
"Brennen wants to expand. It's his dream. But the corporate buyer's offer is safe. Guaranteed money. Security for everyone."
"Which one feels right to you?"
"I don't know." More tears. "And I have to decide by tomorrow. Everything has to be decided by tomorrow. Preston wants an answer. Brennen needs my vote. And I?—"
She stops again. Right on the edge of telling me.
"And you what?" I ask gently.
She looks at me with those terrified eyes. The words are right there, nearly forming on her lips.
"I'm tired," she whispers finally. "I'm so tired, Miles. Of carrying everything. Of pretending I have it together. Of making everyone think I'm fine when I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all."
"Then stop pretending." I take her hand. "Whatever it is—the Celtic Knot vote, the Preston offer, anything else—you can tell me. We're a team. You don't have to carry everything alone."
"About Preston? Or about something else?"
The words are right there. I can see her gathering courage.
And then she breaks.
"I don't know what to do about anything," she sobs.
I pull her close again, holding her while she falls apart. "Then let me help. Whatever it is. All of it. Let me in."
She's crying, really crying now, and I'm just holding her. She's trying to decide whether to tell me. Trying to find the courage. Trying to let me in.
She's not ready. Not quite yet.
But she's close. So close.
I can wait a little longer.
"I'm here," I say quietly. "Whatever is going on. I'm not going anywhere."
She nods against my shoulder, crying harder.
