And the shit part was—they were right.
Heat climbed my throat like something trying to escape.
Shame had already settled lower—rooted in my gut, spreading into my chest, colonizing every cavity that used to hold better things.
The shattered wineglass was gone. No trace. No stain. Someone had cleaned it up—erased it like it never existed. A stark contrast to the scar tonight would leave on both our lives.
“What have I done?” I muttered, letting my head fall into my hands as I sat, visions of her tears replaying behind my eyelids.
You’re a piece of shit,an old voice snarled.Selfish prick,another hissed.
I didn’t fight them. Not this time.
Because this time they were right.
I had lied. From the beginning.
From before I even knew how much it would cost me.
Too caught up in wanting her to think straight—to see the wreckage I was building with my own hands.
I raked them through my hair, nails scraping my scalp as I tried to claw back control. I’d have to step down from the negotiations, but the thought of leaving her alone in a room with Nathan turned my stomach. Sour rising at the back of my mouth.
Maybe another board member could step in—
Maybe—
“Is there anything I can get you, sir?” the waiter asked, pity in his voice and judgement on his face.
“A double of your best whiskey on the rocks.”
“Of course,” he replied, footsteps retreating down the hall.
I listened to them fade, waiting for the silence to catch up to me—swallow me whole.
But it didn’t.
Instead came the faint click of heels on the patchwork stone.
I jerked my head up, my neck protesting, as Emma rounded the corner. She’d wiped away the makeup, the lipstick, the ruin I’d caused.
My jaw hung loose.
She was beautiful. Bare-faced and wrecked and still standing.
Still here.
God help me, still here.
I’d never seen her this exposed, stripped down to nothing and still holding herself together by some thread I’d almost broken.
My chest tightened, panic and unworthiness pooling in my gut just like it had at yesterday’s meeting.
She hesitated before lowering herself into the chair across from me, a faint trace of her perfume wafted toward me—vanilla and coconut. Warm. Familiar. Unmistakably her.
“Why?” I let the confusion bleed into the question as she settled.
She sighed. “Because I’m taking this one step at a time.”
