“I just spoke to Katie, who told me exactly how your date ended.”
“Did she now?” I muse. “Did she explain it thoroughly enough, or would you like a demonstration?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, glaring. “Cut the shit, Tyler. I know y’all decided to just be friends and shared a basket of fries.”
“Best damn fries in town.” I set down my food and take a seat.
Gemma slams her palm on the table. “Why do you insist on driving me crazy?”
“How am I driving you crazy exactly? I’m sitting here, trying to eat. So either join me or go back to your fiancé.”
“Is that what your damn problem is? You left, and years later, I finally moved on and found a man who loves me. Now you’re hell-bent on…what exactly?” She throws up her arms, flustered. “Making me jealous? What was I supposed to do, wait for you forever? You barrel back into town and—”
“And what?” I snap. Pushing to my feet, I walk until I’m standing directly in front of her. “I’m not trying to make you jealous. Katie and I decided to be only friends, but I never said otherwise because you didn’t ask. But if you’re second-guessing your loyalty to your fiancé, then that’s on you and was happening way before I came back. So, think about that instead of accusing me of being the problem.”
“I never said you were the problem…” she whispers.
“So there’s a problem?” I ask, and she lowers her eyes. “Does he always act like he did Saturday night?”
She swallows hard before licking her lips. “No. I mean, not really. He doesn’t have a bad temper, but he’d been drinking and was frustrated.”
I step back slightly and cross my arms to stop myself from reaching out and touching her. “Over what?”
Gemma shakes her head and attempts to walk away, but I grab her arm and gently pull her back. “Tell me.”
“He wants to move the wedding to November instead of March.”
I swallow hard as the vein in my throat threatens to burst. “How come?”
“He thinks we’ve been engaged long enough and doesn’t want to wait anymore.”
Closing the gap between us, I tilt her chin up until her eyes lock with mine. “And what do you want?”
“I thought I knew, but now I’m second-guessing myself.” Her voice sounds so broken that I’m tempted to lower my mouth to hers and take away the pain. But I know that’d only cause more harm than good.
“Follow your heart, Gemma. You can’t go wrong then. Whatever your gut is telling you, believe it.” Cupping her face, I press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Then I do the hardest thing I’ve done in years and walk away so I don’t do anything stupid.
Slowly but surely, Gemma’s weaving herself back into my heart as if no time ever separated us, except she’s not mine to have anymore. I gave her up, and now we’re both paying the price of the heartache.
After work, Gemma’s nowhere to be found, which is a good thing. With what happened during lunch, we both need the reminder that she’s engaged to another man.
Even worse, I don’t have time to lose myself working out because I have a conference call with Serena, Eric, and the prosecutor to discuss the deposition. Serena agreed to be on the call to help me make an educated decision.
When I’m finished showering, my phone dings with a text from Serena.
Serena: Ready? They’re supposed to call in ten minutes.
Tyler: Ready as I’ll ever be.
Serena: Good. Let me do the talking so you don’t unintentionally spill any information he doesn’t need, just to be safe.
Tyler: Got it.
Then I send her a zipped-lip emoji, and she sends a laughing one in return.
Thankfully, Everleigh isn’t home, so I can have some privacy. I don’t want her knowing the details of what’s going on just yet.
Right on time, I get on the call and introduce myself and Serena to the prosecutor. Eric chimes in and re-explains the situation for Serena’s sake and the prosecutor confirms everything he says. As Serena asks questions, I stay quiet and listen. She knows more about the risks of agreeing to this than I do and drills them for thirty minutes straight. They answer everything without hesitation.
“When would you need me to come there?” I ask. I might need to request a day or two off work to fly there and back.
“These things take time, so about a month. I’d like to get a few more on board before we commit to a date, but as soon as I find out, I’ll send you the final paperwork if you’re in,” the prosecutor explains.
“Alright, I should be able to do that. Gives me enough time to tell my boss. How long do I have to decide?”
“We’ll need to know as soon as possible, but if you and Serena need to discuss, then I’d just ask that you let me or Eric know within forty-eight hours.”
“Alright, I can do that.”
“Please understand that this is a long process, and it’s going to be a while before everything is in motion, but this is one step toward justice,” he explains.
“I’ll never stop fighting for justice for Amara,” Eric grinds out. “So you’d really be helping me out.”
“I understand, man. I’ll let you know soon.”
Once the conference call is over, Serena calls me and tells me her thoughts. She explains the cons—getting involved with anything that has to do with the O’Learys again could always lead to backlash—and the pros—helping that bitch get what she finally deserves.
“It’s settled then,” I confirm. “I’m gonna text Eric and tell him I’m in.”
Chapter Fourteen
GEMMA
This morning, Robert invited me to have dinner at his house tonight. Ever since I agreed, I’ve been a nervous wreck. On the way to his house after work, I grow more anxious, but I don’t know why. We spoke a little yesterday about what happened Saturday night and mostly cleared the air, though if my pounding heart is any indication, some lingering tension remains between us. It doesn’t help that Tyler and I had a weird moment today. My head is still spinning from it all.
When I walk through the front door, I find Robert in the kitchen, preparing lemon pepper chicken and roasted potatoes. Over his shoulder, he gives me a smile, but it looks forced. Maybe it’s just me, though, because I’ve been restless the past two nights.
“Hi, darling. Dinner’s almost ready. Can you pour the wine?” he asks as I set my things down.
“Sure. Which kind do you want?” I ask. Robert’s a wine snob, and I never pick the one that pairs correctly with our food.
After grabbing the white wine he requests, I set the table, then take a seat to wait. As soon as it’s all ready, he brings my plate and glass of Sauvignon Blanc, then kisses my head.
“Eat up, sweetheart.”
“Thank you. This looks delicious.”
Robert’s a great cook. In fact, he’s good at everything he does, or at least, it seems that way. I don’t think he’s bad at anything. He always gets what he wants and works hard to make sure it stays that way. It can be intimidating because compared to him, I always feel as though I’m lacking.