And this one had a scowl on his face that rivaled the one I often saw on my father's face.
"Dr. Bradley," he said, nodding curtly. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Actually, you are," I replied, keeping my tone even. "We're preparing for the fundraiser."
"This won't take long." He glanced at Ember, then back at me. "But it does require a candid conversation." I could tell immediately what "conversation" he was wanting to have, and I just wasn’t interested anymore.
These people were as frustrating as my father. I was sick of listening to their rebukes and chastisement about "men my age" and "Ember's so young."
They were acting like having a young Hearthkeeper at my side meant I was marrying her, and while that thought had definitely crossed my mind, whose right was it anyway for them to judge me?
I gestured toward the chair across from my desk, though I didn't stand.
Tom seated himself and folded his hands in his lap, and I felt the tension in the room ratchet upward—the temperature, too, by several degrees.
"There's been talk," Thomas began, and the tone of his voice was nothing short of hostile. "Speculation regarding your relationship with Miss Harrison. The gossip has grown louder in recent weeks, and it's beginning to undermine the image we've worked hard to maintain."
I kept my expression neutral, though anger flared in my chest. "What gossip?"
"That the two of you are involved," Thomas said bluntly. "That this arrangement has become more personal than professional."
"And?" I folded my arms across my chest, daring him to continue.
The fact that I wanted to date Ember should hold no bearing on my position as Lightkeeper.
The only ones who could really make a move to resist me were the board members of this hospital, and only because she wasmy assistant. It would have nothing to do with town judgment or Ember's age.
"And it's causing concern," he said. "The Lightkeeper is meant to represent stability, tradition, and family values. The optics of your being seen with someone so young at your side aren't appropriate for the honorable position you hold."
"Let me be clear," I said as I leaned forward, and I left no room for confusion with my tone. "What I do in my private life is no one's business. Miss Harrison is my employee. She was placed in this role by the committee as a symbol for the community. Nothing more."
I emphasized those last words emphatically and then took a deep breath as I noticed Ember's head pop up before I continued. "If people choose to speculate beyond that, it reflects on them, not on me."
Tom studied me for a long moment, and I met his gaze unflinchingly.
He didn't seem happy, but thanks to Ember's research pointing me toward my actual responsibility to uphold, I no longer felt threatened by him.
Being stripped of the title would be humiliating, but losing Ember would be too painful to recover from.
I didn't care if Thomas Reed didn't like me or if he wanted me out.
All I cared about was the woman seated across the room and what she thought of me now.
"Well, then I assume you'll be handling your personal matters more delicately from now on?" He rose, tucking his tie against his belly before buttoning his suit jacket.
"I always have," I said coldly, and I wished he'd just leave.
He started for the door and said over his shoulder, "Then we have nothing further to discuss. I'll see you at the fundraiser this evening."
He left without another word, and the door clicked shut behind him. I turned to Ember, expecting to see relief on her face, but what I found was worse. She looked stricken, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She had the papers organized, but she pushed them across the table toward me as she stood slowly.
"Ember," I said, standing and crossing the room toward her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't lie to me."
She looked up, and the sadness in her hazel eyes made my chest ache. "You told him I was nothing more than your employee. You actually used those words—'nothing more.'"
