Page 91 of Fate In Fiction

“You have heartbreak all over your face. The past month or so, actually.” Inviting herself into my office, she sets the folders on my desk. “You’ve also been working your late nights again, but the productivity hasn’t increased.”

“Where the hell are you going with this?” I sulk, half asleep and leaning over my keyboard.

“I know how hard you have been working to get shit in order, and I cannot stand by and let you fail. Your heart hurts, I assume, but your company is about to hurt harder. Look through these folders and pull your head out of your ass.” She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I believe in you, like you believe in me.” Welp, I think she’s finally found her fucking backbone. I need to pull myself together for not just me, but my employees.

“Yes, ma’am.” My grin grows as she smiles. “You don’t ever let your newfound fire burn out.” I sit up straight, glancing over the folder titles. “How in depth are the notes you took during our meeting?”

“Quite detailed. I wrote down more than normal, because you have seemed a little spacy as of late.” Her arms cross as she leans against my doorframe. “I’m ready to take on more responsibilities if you need me to.”

My hands brush over my face, trying to stay awake. “Not a problem. You’ve certainly been stepping up your game. I appreciate you holding my tasks together as well as you’ve been doing.”

“I’d like to see where this company can take me and my career.” A small smiles spread across her face. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity.”

“Don’t let me down.” I dismiss her with a smile and nod before torturing myself a little more as I open my phone.

I haven’t replied to Josie, and she hasn’t bothered to reach out. I stare down at her favorite radio app. Without a doubt, I’m sure she still tunes in. The station is more than likely relieved I haven’t bothered them with my terrible song choices. But I want to prove that I am there for her. Every day, her top songs are now played in a row. It costs a pretty penny, but she is worth every dollar.

Just as I’m about to dive back into work, Lauren’s call comes through, and I’m partially scared to it pick up. I’ve been avoiding her calls over the last few days.

“Hello?”

“I have a flipping bag packed because I was about to fly my ass out to Aspen if you didn’t pick up this time.” Lauren might be younger than me, but she’s known to give my ass a good kicking when no one else will.

“How’d you find out?”

“Well, to start, it was your press interview. My God, Emmett!” Okay, so my sweetness on the red carpet didn’t seem to go over how I thought it would. “Josie also sent a text saying she won’t be at the wedding in a month and a half. What the hell is wrong with you!”

“I’m so glad you care enough to ask. Maybe you can help me figure this out. And lay off; I was doing the right thing.” I go on to explain the entire situation and, thankfully, Lauren understands my point of view. “But something about the interview threw her off, Ren.” I pick up a pen, ready to write down any insight.

“Yeah, dumbass. I know you were aware of her endometriosis and how bad it gets.” Her frustration grows. “You go and tell the world about how you want Josie birthing six children.”

“Yeah. I’d see her doubled over in pain and puking.” Now she’s alone in another country, and my gut aches, wondering how she is managing the pain on her own. There’s a long pause, as if she’s waiting for more to expel out of my mouth. “Josie didn’t go into detail about it, but I witnessed first hand how shitty it is and tried to make her as comfortable as I could.”

“I can’t with you. Not right now. She’s trying every damn way to get over you.” There is slight distaste in her tone, and I don’t press for further details. “But maybe you don’t deserve her.” She sighs as I explain how I pay the radio station to subtly let her know I still care.

“Emmett, she feels she isn’t able to be enough for you.” Hearing that from another person makes me want to pull my hair out. She’s more than enough for me. She’s everything.

“How can I change that?”

“Do your fucking research and find a way to go big. Prove you want her. And research before you open your fucking mouth again.” Lauren clears her throat. “Learn, dumbass. And apply it.” She hangs up, leaving me to piece shit together. Again. But at least I have more to go on now.

I pour a glass of whiskey, releasing a pent-up breath as I relax into the couch. Opening the search engine, I type in the big word that I surprisingly spelled correctly.

Making my way through each symptom, I relive the moments of watching Josie go through them. My lungs plummet as I curl inward, reading the second to last symptom. Infertility. My phone falls to my lap as my eyes squeeze shut. Throwing my head back, I feel bile rise up my throat. The courage and vulnerability it took for Josie to share her diagnosis with me was trust I probably won’t get back. My fists ball, wishing I could punch something, more so punch myself. Her own parents shut her out and turned a blind eye. Actually, if they fucking knew and wanted to keep her quiet to marry into money, then I’ll have quite the rant to voice next time we meet.

Attempting a deep breath, I know what I’ve done. A ten-second search would have highlighted this topic. I never mentioned having children. I lead her on after she confessed her condition, not having any follow up questions. I don’t expect her to talk to me again. I don’t fucking deserve it. The one person she trusted to open up to used it to break her to make a news headline. I hadn’t realized at the time, but flying her with me to watch my sister’s gender reveal explains her emotional shift on something she may never have. I fight back tears, needing to make this up to her. Why isn’t this talked about more? Even if I’m too late, I owe her the chance to know she’s still worthy. Worth loving.

JOSIE

Two months post breakup

London

“Josie.” Nicki, my roommate, opens the bathroom door as I finish applying my mascara. “We will wait down in the lobby for you. Hurry up, hot stuff.”

Nicki and I met when I first arrived in London. I was staying at the hotel she works at, and on the third night walking past the front desk, I asked if there was a monthly rate. She mentioned she was looking for a roommate and the rest was history. I enjoy how I’ve been able to keep my personal life private. She has no idea who I recently dated, and I find I’m able to keep my feelings buried by doing so.

“Lovely,” I say, with my terrible British accent and smile.