Page 52 of The Emma Special

James met Emma’s stare. She was finally looking at him, and all he could read in her eyes was disappointment.

It was a feeling he knew all too well. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Emma was still looking at him as he pocketed his phone. Every muscle in his body was rigid. “I have to go. Will you be okay here?”

“In my own house? Yeah, I think I’ll be fine. Thanks for bringing me home.”

The hollowness in her voice cut him to the quick. He’d done something to upset her. He just didn’t know exactly what it was. “I’ll check on you later.”

With that, he stood and walked out, praying for a chance to fix everything that had crumbled in a matter of minutes.

Chapter 15

Emma Enjoys Fine Dining

“Anna, we need fresh coffee in the boardroom before you go,” Mr. Anderson commanded from her desk phone.

Emma took a sweet moment to pat her own shoulder because she’d started a fresh pot not five minutes ago. But she wasn’t going anywhere. The big boss must have her Monday appointment confused with today. Then he’d be surprised when she tried to leave for her actual scheduled time off. Hot pressure clamped around her lungs.

She leaned over the phone, already standing. “Be right there, Mr. Anderson,” she buzzed through the intercom. The folded sheet of paper in her hand needed to be delivered first. Regardless of her relationship with the rest of the office, she couldn’t leave things as they were with James.

The unthoughtful words she’d volleyed at him last night bounced around in her skull. James was too good of a friend to let things fall apart so easily. She knew she’d self-sabotaged by picking a fight rooted in her shame. She hummed a little Bible verse song as she walked, slowly and without any limp, toward his office. “I can do all things, all things, all things… I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” It was an upbeat tune—which she embraced this morning.

She could endure Joseph’s raised eyebrows and Mr. Anderson’s barked commands. She could even hold her head up against Miss Joy’s belittling meanness. The opinion of that one man down the hallway was the only one she cared about in this whole office. How would she stick it out here day after day without an ally?

The speckled blue carpet blurred momentarily and Emma pressed her hand against the wall. Had she eaten this morning? She’d fallen asleep without dinner, too upset to even think about food. Then she’d overslept, rushed to get out the door with Katie…

Food could wait. Mr. Anderson’s coffee could wait. She had to get this fixed with James before the stress of it boiled her from the inside out.

Friends didn’t always agree, but friends always made peace. She would fix what she’d broken. Starting with an apology in the form of a comic strip. It was honest, yet silly enough to break the layer of ice she hoped wasn’t too thick.

His door was already open an inch and she pushed it with one finger. She drew in a breath to say something cheerful with a forced smile on her lips⁠—

Oh, heavens.

James sat hunched forward, still wearing yesterday’s navy suit jacket, with his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, and hair tousled. He lifted his head when she quietly cleared her throat.

“James?”

If eyes were a window to the soul, she’d never seen such a tortured one. She’d planned to slip him the silly note and move along, but the way he looked at her made her want to hold him like a cute baby puppy. “What’s happened?”

Maybe she’d only been here a month, but she’d never seen him despondent—and there had been plenty of ups and downs with his cases. Clients storming out. His brother throwing chairs, for goodness sake. None of the high-stress pressure had knocked him off his game before.

This didn’t seem like the time to worry about their little tiff from last night. “I can come back later.”

James shook his head, gesturing to the chair reserved for clients. “Will you sit, Emma?” He pointed to her hands. “Is that a message for me?”

“Oh… Sort of. I don’t mean to distract you, but yeah.” She handed it to him before she sat, avoiding his gaze at the transfer.

Emma perched on the edge of the chair, happy to get off her leg, but jittery at the same time. Finally, unable to handle the suspense, she looked up at him.

He still stared at her note. No smiles or chuckles. James didn’t even roll his eyes with rueful annoyance. Of course, she’d messed up again. He thought she was immature and irresponsible. She should have said, “Sorry. I was rude. Thank you for your concern. Are we good?” But no, she had to put all of her exuberant feelings on the page to be ignored.

“James, I’m sorry⁠—”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I was the one out of line. Thank you for this.” He raised the paper, then dropped it into his top drawer and slammed it shut. “Emma…”

“Yeah?”