Page 120 of Things I Overshared
11:42.
I hear his door.
I hear his deep, silky voice talking to Marge.
I steel myself and walk out like I own the place—um, you kinda do own the place!—and try to keep a relaxed pace for the few steps between him and me, where he stands in a light gray suit I haven’t seen since before our trip. I know he’ll have on a vest and a darker gray tie, because he always does with this suit. I see his back tense when he hears my shoes click, and he stops talking when Marge’s eyes leave him and settle on me over his shoulder. He turns, and I try to take a deep breath, but it ends up as more of a shallow stutter.
“Hey, Emerson.” I keep my voice casual and throw him a bright smile. Not too big, just like an acceptable coworker smile. I look him dead in the eye, though. He meets my gaze for a second and puts his mouth in a hard line. His eyes don’t look at the necklace or my dress, or travel my sexy shoes. Instead, they only meet mine for a beat.
“Miss Canton.”
No.
That name.
The ice in his tone.
It wasn’t even a greeting—it was a dismissal.
He immediately turns back to Margaret and says something. I don’t hear what he says. My mouth is open, and my eyes are burning. He leaves. He actually leaves the office, without looking back at me. At some point, I realize I’m just standing frozen in the hall. And he knew I was there, but he never turned back—he just ignored me. I spin a 180 and shuffle back into my office like a moron.
I close the door and cover my mouth.Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Thankfully, Margaret was the only one to witness that, the exact moment my heart finally broke.
I thought it’d been broken before, but those were just little stabs, bruises. Small offenses by little boys who never really saw me, never loved me. And I never really loved them. I liked the attention, maybe, had fun, wanted theideaof the relationship, the version my imagination crafted. I was sad, in the past, when reality caught up to me, but all of that, everything over the last ten years, teen loves, my college sweetheart, dating in New York . . . those were just tiny scratches on the edges of my soul.
This is altogether different.
I fell in love with a man.
I gave him my heart, and just now, he crushed it to dust.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t do this.
I can’t be here.
Me: 911. Book me a flight to you. ASAP.
Sadie: Okay.
I grab my things, managing not to let the tears spill over. I will not cry in this office.I will not cry in the office.I turn to leave and put my hand to the soft gold chain on my neck out of habit. A sob catches in my throat. I grasp the chain and yank. It breaks, and I quickly, wordlessly walk myself into Emerson’s office. I don’t know if Marge sees, and I don’t care.
I leave the broken necklace on his desk. I speed out of his office and out the back office door, not wanting to risk seeing him in the main elevators or lobby area. I make my way out of the building, out of New York.
He made his cowardly choice.
His eyes said it all.
He wanted it to be over.
Now it is.
Chapter 37
It was Tuesday night when I got here, to Sadie’s unreal Dallas penthouse apartment. I don’t know what day it is now. I don’t care. My older sister has brought in food, water bottles, pain meds, congestion meds, and tissues. I think I’ve only touched the latter. But she doesn’t push me, which is why I came to her. Susan would’ve hovered, Skye would’ve gone with a too-honest pep talk, and Sally is too busy with school.
