I shook my head. I couldn’t even find the words.

“I know you think I did this on purpose.”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I honestly thought this was impossible. I—I haven’t had a period in months.”

I turned around and looked at her. Okay, she was thin, but she wasn’t that thin. From my cursory research about severe eating disorders, I knew that women sometimes stopped having their periods, but she didn’t look like she’d lost enough weight for that to happen.

“Something is clearly wrong with you. Tell me what it is.”

She opened her mouth to answer and then shook her head, her hands shaking as she pushed her hair away from her face in nervous agitation.

“I have to go,” she said.

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You’re going to walk out of here right now? You’re going to just leave it like this without telling me a goddamn thing?”

“You’re too pissed off right now. We’re at work, for God’s sake. Your secretary is right outside the door! I can’t talk to you here.”

“Enough with the bullshit, Emilia! I’m sick of the excuses.”

Her head came up, her eyes narrowed. “You just smashed that vase into a thousand tiny bits and you think this is a good time for us to talk? No way.”

My headache intensified to the point where it suddenly felt like there was an army inside my skull waging a war to get out. I pressed my palm to my head.

“Your head hurts?”

I shook my head, clenched my teeth. “Stop putting this off.”

“We’ll talk. Tomorrow. I’ll—I’ll come to your house.”

“If you walk out of that door now—you walk out on me again, we are done. Forever. The way it should have been when you moved out in October.”

One tear streaked across her pale cheek.

“It takes two to fuck up and if you can’t acknowledge your own failures, then you’re right—we are done,” she said, voice trembling.

“We were done months ago. I’ve just been the fool for holding out hope.”

She nodded, blinking, fighting furiously to contain her tears but they were escaping again. I suddenly wished I had ten more vases like the first one to smash against the wall.

“You don’t need to worry about it, then. I’ll take care of this,” she choked out. Then she turned and walked to the door. I spun, staring out into the atrium, refusing to watch her walk out of my life forever.

I shut my eyes, squeezed them tight against the pain that was intensifying like a torrent of hammers raining from the sky. Even if I wanted to run after her, I doubted I could. The door opened and clicked shut just as quickly. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, my head bursting with pain.

Chapter Twenty

I spent half the night wondering what to do. Wishing there was someone I could talk this through with. There was no way I was going to go to Jordan. I had half a mind to call Heath, but wasn’t sure if Emilia had told him yet. I almost called my lawyer to try and figure out what my rights were.

In my anger and pain I’d effectively cut her off by telling her in all finality that we were done. Now, she no longer worked for me. She had alienated herself from her mother so it was unlikely that even the family connection would be worth anything. Ironically, I had balked at the fact that once she stopped working for me, we’d no longer have a connection in our lives.

It seemed I’d worried about that needlessly. Because now, we were connected forever.

I wasn’t sure how long it would take before we were composed enough to talk this through like the adults we were supposed to be. How long would it take me to calm down? Or for her to unfuck herself long enough to determine if she could even handle going through with this?

I ended up seeing her again a lot sooner than I thought I would.

At eight o’clock that next morning, Saturday, when I was still asleep, my phone buzzed on my night table. I picked it up to see a text from Heath.

Get over here NOW. 911.

I sat up, texted back. What’s up?

He replied. Need your help ASAP. She’s freaking out.

I hesitated, actually considered telling him to call someone else. I was done with her, wasn’t I? But my gut still sank hearing that she was having a hard time. Her behavior enraged me, but I couldn’t help myself. Could I even stay away if I tried?

That month after we’d split up in St. Lucia and she moved back to her mom’s house, I’d tried to forget her. Our fling had only lasted a few short weeks. In fact, we’d only had sex a handful of times. But try as I might, I couldn’t get her out of my head.