Mine to Lose Page 16

  My desk is still clean from Thursday afternoon, since I took Friday off to pack. The only thing I notice is the blinking red light on my phone, indicating that I have a message. The time stamp says it was left on Friday, so I rush to check it.

  “Em, Emogen, this is Trey. When you have a moment I need to talk to you about some last minute details. I have a few concerns. Thanks.”

  I make myself a note to call him in a while, with the goal of checking up on all details so I can give him as much information as possible. Thumbing through the file, I find that everything is still going according to plan. I want to contact every vendor we’ve signed contracts with, just to ensure that they are on task and ready for next week.

  I’m just finishing up the first of seven phone calls I have to make when a text from Trey buzzes through on my cell.

  Trey: Call me. Issue with entertainment

  Me: What's going on?

  Trey: Urgent

  I look over to Cam, who is knee deep in details for a wedding this weekend to see what she knows. “Cam, did something happen with the DJ for the T.M. event next weekend?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, why?

  “Not sure,” I respond, getting worried that I dropped the ball somewhere along the way. “Trey just sent a vague text about it and said I need to call.”

  She looks as concerned as I do, but this is my client and my job on the line, so I have to do whatever it takes to make sure this goes off without a hitch. I pick up the office phone, dial his number and wait for him to pick up. “Trey, it’s Emogen. I just got your text.”

  “All of them?”

  “There was more than the one I you just sent?”

  “No, that was all,” he says with a laugh.

  “So what’s going on with the entertainment?”

  “Nothing, they’re great,” he says as though it’s any other conversation.

  “Are you kidding me? You said it was urgent, I thought something fell through,” I say with relief, but still confused as to the need for a call.

  “I’ve had Hattie handling things here, and I know that Cam has been taking care of it on your end.” He pauses for a moment before finishing. “I just want to make sure that everything’s okay.”

  I read into that last statement, curious if he knows about the breakup. It’s not something I plan to talk about with anyone, especially my client. I decide to ignore my gut and focus on the task at hand. “I was actually in the middle of making phone calls to reconfirm everything, so I’ll email the details and a timeline later,” I say, hoping to end the phone call.

  “Great,” he starts. “I have some things I want to go over, so let’s meet for lunch.”

  “Today’s not a good day,” I tell him, while I look at my calendar. “I have a meeting set up from eleven thirty to one o’clock.” I need to call Callie to see what this is about.

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  “All it says is lunch at-”

  “The Bistro,” he finishes with a laugh while I gather my wits. “Pick you up at eleven.”

  I don’t even have time to respond because he hangs up the phone. Dumbfounded, I hang up the receiver to pick it up again. “Callie, did you schedule this appointment on my calendar with Mr. Miller?”

  “Yes,” she replies timidly, like she’s waiting for me to yell at her. “He called Friday morning, and I told him you wouldn’t be in until today. He said that it was urgent that he meets with you. Is something wrong?”

  Urgent. There’s that word again. I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word, because that is reserved for something that has to be taken care of now. Avoiding Trey for the rest of the week is what is urgent to me.

  “No, Callie. Thank you,” I say with defeat before hanging up the phone.

  * * *

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this lunch date?” I ask as we take a seat at our table.

  “Not a date. Besides, it’s not like you’ve been easy to get a hold of,” he reminds me as he slips his sunglasses off.

  Ouch. Did I really just try to call this a date?

  “I’ve been really busy. Cam’s been handling some of the details.” Like calling you. “But I’ve been keeping up with the schedule and working on the table layout.”

  He nods at my answer while studying the menu in his hand. I haven’t really been around Trey since Langley and Reid were in town. Our meeting after that made things awkward and blurred the professional line. That’s the reason I asked Cam to handle any face to face that might be needed. Had I known that he was going to give Hattie a shot at really taking care of everything on the T.M. side of things, I wouldn’t have been so quick to step away.

  He places his menu off to the side and takes a sip of his water. When he sets the drink down, I can feel his eyes on me. I stare a little harder at my menu, hoping to buy myself a little more time.

  “You’re looking at that thing like it can cure cancer.” His statement elicits an uncomfortable laugh from me, but I can’t help but look at him to acknowledge his observation.

  “It does,” I answer in my snarkiest tone.

  “So what looks good?”

  “Honestly?” I eye him and he nods. “Nothing. I got food poisoning last night, so I don’t have much of an appetite.” As if on cue, my stomach growls at an embarrassing level and he starts laughing.

  “Either you’re lying, or you’re feeling better. Just order something, you can always finish it later,” he instructs.

  The waiter stops by and takes our orders before scurrying off, leaving us in silence once again. I pull out the file and begin going over the information that he needs for the evening. He knows that I’m going to send him an email, and I’ll also be on hand to handle everything, but I get the feeling he’s a bit of a control freak. But then again, this is his name, his company and his future clients that are being catered to. We discuss the table layout and he makes a few seating arrangement changes, but is happy with the setup overall. When Lisa told us about the caterer issue, we found another that she suggested. After sampling a couple of things on their menu and contacting a few of their references, I was sold, but Trey took a bit more coaxing because he wanted to use someone more established. I reminded him that he needed to take a chance on people, just like he expects potential clients to take a chance on him. He’s still not completely convinced, but I appreciate that at least he trusts my judgment.

  Our plates have been removed and the waiter brings me a box for my leftovers. The meeting has gone really well, and I’m glad that he insisted on seeing me. There is relief knowing that I have everything taken care of and Trey is happy with my work. Feeling our meeting is done, I remove my napkin from my lap to stand up, but he remains seated, so I do as well.

  “How was your visit with Ryan?” he asks, making conversation.

  “Trey, I’d really rather not discuss that, if you don’t mind,” I say as respectfully as I can, exhaling a breath.

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry, just making conversation,” he says with a crooked smile.

  “Yeah well, that’s a dead conversation.” My tone is clipped and I see concern in his eyes.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  He leans toward me, assessing my short responses before slowly reaching for my hand. “We’re friends, right?”

  He’s trying to comfort me, and while I appreciate it, his hand on mine clouds my judgment. Granted, we have become friends, but my heart is breaking over the loss of Ryan in my life. Trey’s touch makes me feel guilty for craving this from him, and at the same time, it gives me peace. How can he read me and know that I need this?

  “You’re my client, first.”

  “No, right now, I’m your friend. What’s going on?”

  “Trey, I appreciate your concern, but really, I’m fine.”

  “Did you guys have a fight? I’m sorry,” he adds in a rush, “that’s none of my business.”

  “No.” My eyes close and I
shake my head. “It’s really not, but I am fine. We broke up, it hurts and it sucks, and that’s all I’ll say about it. I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

  The sympathy I see in his eyes causes my heart to break a little more. I don’t want sympathy or pity or anything else, but it seems that’s what I’ll be getting for a while. I suppose that’s the reaction when people hear of a broken engagement. “I’m sorry to hear that, Em. If you need anything, I am your friend.”

  “Thanks.” I smile, happy I’ve been able to keep the tears at bay. “And yes, we’re friends.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Hey Em.” Langley’s voice sounds through the phone. “You’re still coming out next weekend, right?”

  “Lang,” I say with exasperation. “Can I please get through one big thing at a time? I haven’t been feeling well and I have Trey’s event tomorrow night. I need to focus on this.”

  “What’re you gonna wear?”

  “Black.” Of course it’s black. It’s always black, that’s Elle’s signature. A knock at the door interrupts our conversation. “Hold on, someone’s at the door.”

  “Maybe it’s a serial killer,” she says in a fake panicked tone. “Don’t answer it!” she screams, causing me to laugh. I don’t even look through the peephole before I answer the door and my world stops.

  “Ryan?”

  “Hey, Em.” He looks unsure and as handsome as I remember. Ha! Remember? I look at his picture every night.

  “What? What are you doing here?” I stumble over the words, confused by his presence.

  “I called Joss earlier to see if I could pick up the box you left for me. She didn’t tell you?”

  “Uh, that would be a no,” I say stepping aside to let him in.

  “Lang?”

  “Yeah, call me back,” she says hanging up the phone.

  I turn to face Ryan, stunned that this is even happening. Joss played me. She convinced me to try yoga with her, not that she exercises, but I figured I had nothing better to do. But this afternoon she called and canceled saying that she had a late meeting and couldn’t make it.

  “What are you doing here?” Ryan’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I realize I've been standing silent like an idiot.

  “I live here now,” I inform him. My words are steady, and show no signs of breaking. I might just make it through this little surprise visit.

  “She didn’t mention that.”

  “There’s a lot she didn’t mention,” I say more to myself than him.

  “What’s that?” He leans forward to listen.

  “Nothing. Do you want something to drink?”

  “I’m fine,” he says as I walk to the couch, showing him a seat. “What did Joss do with her furniture?” He references our couch replacing hers.

  “Donated it to a woman's shelter.” When I tell him this, he seems to be mulling it over, or maybe he’s reeling from seeing me.

  When he finally speaks, it’s as if we’re mere acquaintances. “How have you been?”

  “Good,” I say, realizing that I am good. It’s not a lie.

  “You look good, Em.”

  “So do you. Work going okay?”

  “It’s going,” he shrugs, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

  “Where're you stayin’?”

  “Dean’s place,” he admits, cocking his head to the side. “Cam didn’t tell you I was in town?”

  The eye rolling is involuntary, I swear. The knowledge that Cam knew, and didn’t tell me, that Joss knew and didn’t tell me. I don’t know what game they’re playing but it needs to stop. It’s been over a month, I have to move on, and they need to let it go.

  “Lemme get your box,” I offer as I head to my bedroom. The box has been safely tucked out of my sight, keeping me from going through it over and over. It’s heavy, but I manage to carry it out, only to have him meet me to help.

  “What’s in here?”

  “Whatever you didn’t take to San Diego. Mostly little things like shot glasses, some t-shirts and other junk.”

  “Junk, huh? What about that shirt you’re wearing?” His eyes scan over my body and I fight the urge to hide, but I have no reason to slink away.

  “I’m keeping this one.” My tone lets him know I am not to be argued with.

  “What if I want it?” He smiles like it’s any other conversation, as though he didn’t just rip my heart out weeks ago. I want to punch him or yell at him for being here right now. How can he stand here and flirt with me, as though no time has passed?

  “Tough, it’s mine.” My hands fly to my hips and right then I see it in his eyes, he still loves me. “But this is yours.”

  I walk away, leaving him standing alone in the living room. There on my dresser rests the little box that holds what I treasured most. I pull out the ring and place it on my finger one last time and marvel how much it's been a part of me before slipping it off. When I come back, the box is on the floor in front of him and he’s standing there waiting for me with a shy smile.

  My smile is small, and filled with sorrow as I open my hand. “Here you go.”

  Ryan looks down and sees the ring, his eyebrows furrow as though he's in pain. “No. I gave that to you.”

  “And now I'm giving it back.”

  “I don’t want it back,” he argues, turning to walk away from me.

  “Ryan, this was a promise that you made to me. A promise of love and a life of forever. I wore it with all the hope that it vowed, but that’s over. I need you to take it back. Please?”

  “But-”

  “Please.” My voice breaks and he shakes his head.

  The sound of a key entering the lock outside the door snaps us back to the here and now. Joss walks in and spots Ryan and I standing apart, and not happy. I look to my friend and shake my head at her for the betrayal.

  Ryan finally looks back at me and I walk over and wrap my arms around him one last time. When his arms embrace me, he pours so much into it, but I pull away. He still has his hands on my hips and I push to my toes and plant a chaste kiss to his lips. “I will always love you, Ryan Tate.” My hand reaches down and I push the engagement ring into his front pocket before slipping out of his arms and out of the room.

  With the door closed behind me, I try to steady my breathing in hopes that I won't cry, but it doesn't help. My emotions keep getting the best of me, but at least no one is around to witness them. Score one for a brave face. Their muffled voices are audible through the door, so I close my eyes to listen, pressing my ear against it.

  “Why didn’t you tell her I was coming in town?” I can hear the irritation in his tone and it’s pretty clear he might be as angry with her as I am.

  “I’m sorry, Ry, I guess I hoped that you would see each other and the old feelings would return.” Joss’s voice is sad, and somewhat shamed.

  “The old feelings, which you’re referring to, never left. At least not for me, things just got messed up.” Hearing these words from him cut to my core. He ended it, and I felt like he didn’t want to fight for me, or for us.

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “I hurt her, Joss. I don’t blame her for hating me; you should have seen the way she looked at me when she gave me the ring back. What am I supposed to say to that? No, Em’s moved on.”

  “If that’s what you want to tell yourself.” When I hear her begin to argue her point, I push away from the door to take a shower. Maybe the sting of scalding water will take away the pain my heart feels all over again just seeing him.

  I don’t know how long I was in the shower, but I couldn’t tell my tears from the water, so I don’t consider it true crying. I’m drying my hair when Joss slinks up, hiding to the side like a coward. My scowl gives my unhappiness with her away, but she moves into my space, ignoring my obvious disdain for her. The dryer is loud, but the thoughts in my head are louder, so I shut it off and turn to face her.

  “What in the hell were you thinking, Joss? That was embarrassing, and shitty.” My v
oice is raised as I glare at her.

  “Look, we just thought-”

  “We? Who was in on this?” My anger is boiling over as I discover this was a conspiracy.

  “Cam and Dean-”

  I no longer try to control the decibel of my voice, giving her the full brunt of my ire. “Are you kidding me? Were you trying to fuckin’ Parent Trap us? Well, I got news for you, Joss, it didn’t work. We are over. Ryan made his choice, he ended this, and I have to live with it. So I would appreciate it if you stopped interfering and let me move on. Can you do that?”

  My eyes snap from her toward the living room, when I hear the door shut. She looks over her shoulder, and then back to me. “He was waiting to talk to you.”

  “Get out!”

  * * *

  Compartmentalizing has become an art form to me, one that I believe I’ve become quite good at. For example, today I am running all over town, ensuring that everything is ready for tonight. Elle has provided me with a team of people to help with Trey’s event, and knowing I have support makes me feel better. Trey actually tried to get me to forego working the event and attend as his date. I had to tell him several times that it was not an option, but I would make sure to stop by and say hello. When I left the apartment this morning, I grabbed my dress for the evening, deciding I would get ready at the office. Joss was in the kitchen eating breakfast when I emerged from my room, but I was still giving her the silent treatment; I was not ready to talk to her yet. I took my actions a step further and called Elle to make sure that Cam was not on my team for the evening; I breathed a sigh of relief when I found out that she would have her own event to attend.

  Ivy Glen is bustling with wait staff and vendors setting up tables and decorations. We adjusted the lighting to be dim, but bright enough that the guests will be able to see each other’s faces when they talk. The table layout is exactly as I envisioned when I sent it to Lisa a week ago. Someone from her team passes by me so I ask where I can find her.