He asked if we could talk. I said I didn’t have anything to say.

He asked if I’d consider forgiving him. I laughed at that one.

He said he was sorry. I didn’t believe him.

He asked if he could get any money back from the deposits. I promptly hung up.

And then I went and smashed shit. And the whole time I pictured me taking the bat to his balls.

Best therapy ever.

Then there was Emmett. Dear, sweet, man I don’t deserve, Emmett. I don’t know if he truly knew what to expect at the smash room, and at first, he just sat back and let me have at it. But pretty soon he got in on the fun.

And staring at him while he was swinging a mallet? It was not the worst sight to have. I might have thought a few times what it would look like with him wearing one of his tight white shirts, swinging an ax. I bet it would be manly. Rugged. Sweat dripping off his handsome bearded face.

Then, realizing that I was ogling at the man, I snapped myself out of it by throwing empty beer bottles against the wall. That seemed to do the trick.

I think Emmett knew something was off, but he didn’t push me and I didn’t say anything. Which is the best part of Emmett. He listens. He doesn’t talk to hear his own voice. In fact, if he could say nothing at all, he’d prefer to.

He’s truly one of a kind. And I can’t imagine being here without him.

Which is insane. Two weeks ago I didn’t know who he was. I mean, I guess I did, because I knew my brother had a business partner named Emmett. But I didn’t know he’d be the person who would be getting me through the hardest time of my life to date.

But he has, and I’ll never be able to repay him for that.

Cap…my own personal superhero.

I hear a low rumble of thunder as I start getting myself ready for bed. I’m grabbing a T-shirt and the boxers I might have not returned to Emmett as I hear a call coming through. My entire body goes solid for a moment before melting when I see Maeve’s name on the caller ID.

“Hey there,” I say as I head downstairs. Might as well make my nightly sweet treat while we catch up.

“How you doing?”

What a loaded question. “I’m hanging in there.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Stella Leigh. You know I can tell.”

And she can. It’s one of her super powers. As the oldest daughter of the Banks clan, Maeve has always had a way about spotting the bullshit from a mile away. When we were kids, she always knew who was throwing who under the bus for whatever crime was committed. When I was in high school, she knew I was lying about a cheerleader sleepover when in fact I was sneaking out with my boyfriend. She wasn’t even living at home at that time. And in the bridal suite that fateful morning, I could tell she also thought something wasn’t right.

Maeve knows all, and I don’t know why I ever think I can get anything past her.

“I’m having good days and bad,” I say. “Two days ago was great. Yesterday was all right. Today was…both.”

And that’s as honest as I can be. Two days ago was my night out with Emmett. That night was as close to perfect as one can have. Yesterday was just okay. It rained for most of the day, so I stayed in the house. Emmett had to work but came over after, and we ordered pizza and watched a documentary about the JFK assassination. It was Emmett’s choice, and I found it fascinating that he chose that over an action movie. Based on Duncan and guys I dated in college, I thought that was the standard. Come to find out Emmett is somewhat of a self-admitted history nerd.

Buff and brains. The man really does have it all.

Then there was today, and no amount of time in the smashroom can make up for the amount of rage and grief that occurred when I heard Duncan’s voice.

“That’s to be expected,” Maeve says. “I mean, it hasn’t been that long.”