Jake walks in with a man in tow and I take a sharp breath at his mere appearance; he’s in a deep gray
shirt, left open at the collar, and dark jacket, matching pants and shades, his face has a little more
stubble than normal. He looks flawless in every way, a seductive cool, confident heartthrob and it
causes my heart to constrict painfully. His eyes are concealed with Ray Bans as they walk by me in the
office.
I long to reach out and touch him as he passes. He keeps his distance, throwing me a tight smile, and
says nothing; just heads with his male friend to his own office and shuts the door. I feel sick. I just want
to be alone with him to talk, a chance to explain, apologize, win back my Jake in any small way that I
can.
I want to know what’s happening with Marissa. How he feels about it, what the future holds for her, and
him.
I sit at my desk and fidget with everything within reach, but I just don’t care. I don’t have the strength to
be PA Emma anymore. I’m listless, tense, and emotional, and I’ve fallen to pieces so many times in the
past two days that I could cry right here, in front of everyone, and it wouldn’t matter. I need him.
My hair falls forward into my face so many times as I shift about, I start regretting this hair cut at all.
Why did I ever change it?
I smile sadly as I ponder it; my hair is just another sign that I had been letting go. Taking away a piece
of the armor, oblivious to the fact at the time. Another small change pushed on me by Jake’s looming
presence. I tug my fingers from my scalp, I’ve been tangling them absent-mindedly, and straighten my
back in a bid to pull myself together. This is sheer agony, my nerves are all over the place, my mind
anywhere but work.
Finally, his visitor leaves, and waves me a passing goodbye and friendly smile. I sit with bated breath,
wondering if I should just walk in and try to talk to him but my courage fails me. I don’t have to ponder
over it for long, as my switchboard lights up and he asks me to come into his office.
I hold my breath, my nerves reeling as I get up, palms sweaty, stomach fluttering and slowly make my
way in, pushing the heavy door closed behind me once I’m inside, unable to take my eyes off him. He’s
facing down towards his laptop, concentrating, and typing, he’s taken off his shades and his jacket; too
good to be real, yet avoiding directly looking at me.
I crave for him to glance at me and smile in his usual way. Hollywood handsome, but he doesn’t. He
nods up darkly and indicates I take a seat; all Mr. Business Carrero, devoid of all friendliness, acting
ultra-cool toward me.
I can sense the tension already. I do as I’m told, still unable to tear my eyes from him, my body
trembling, waiting for some sign of how this will play out. Something doesn’t feel right, and my inner
fears start churning low down.
“Emma, this isn’t easy for me to say.” He gazes at me for a long moment, darkness in his eyes, but his
face is closed off, giving nothing away. He shifts in his seat so he’s sitting taller and closes his laptop
slowly, watching me as intently as I’m watching him. I hold my breath, my nerves piquing. “We can’t
work together anymore … Too much has happened for this to work.” He sounds so cold, unaffected by
the words he’s just stabbed me with.
I gasp sharply, as though I’ve been struck. Shaking my head impulsively as I take in what he’s just said.
I never saw this coming at all, and my insides drop with the gravity of how bad this is.
“What?” I blurt out, dazed, my voice detached from my reeling mind, my body frozen to the spot.
“I’ve made arrangements for you to go to our headquarters across town, Carrero Tower. To work on my
father’s floor, Emma … It’s for the best.” He looks away and turns his chair to the windows of the office,
gazing over New York as if to dismiss me. His body language completely unreadable, straight, and
solid, physically closing me out.
I can’t formulate a response at all, gasping like I’m drowning. I can’t breathe. I try to speak, but only a
sob is forced out. Without any warning I crumble, falling forward into my hands and I lose control,
crying softly, unable to stop anything anymore, just a shadow of the person I have been playing for so
long.
Jake can’t do this to me, to us … He can’t break me this way. Not him! … Not after everything. He’s
sending me away, and it’s ripping me apart inside.
“Emma, don’t, please.” His voice cracks and waves over me closely as his arms come around me,
pulling me from my chair. I can’t look up at him. I can only let him guide me around and crush me to his
chest, wrapping his arms around me so tightly, I can barely breathe. “Not now, Emma … Not like this,”
he croaks breathily. I don’t understand what he means by that, all I can do is sag against him and let
everything flow out of me, all the anguish and heartache and pain of the last few days while basking in
the feel of him.
I try and regain control of myself, my sobs finally turning to soft tears as I calm down. Unable to think of
any words to fix this. I take deep breaths and try so hard to be calm again, ashamed of him seeing me
this weak.
Finally, with immense effort, I accomplish stable, still held tightly in his arms, surrounded by strength
and his intoxicating scent. Taking solace in the cause of my pain, a safe haven to me; but how can he
be when he’s told me I’m to be sent away from here, that I’m done working for him? He’s not my haven
anymore, he’s my destroyer and cause of my desperate agony.
“I’m calm,” I finally mutter, numb and empty. Lifting my hand to wipe my face, my make-up smearing
across the back of it, but I don’t care. I want him to see how broken I am over this. I have nowhere to
hide now.
The warmth of his breath on top of my scalp seems to move away; he’s been resting his face in my hair
the whole time, as I was breathing him in. Painfully familiar.
“Emma … This … Us … It’s toxic … We just fight and feel angry with each other, all the time.” He
sounds defeated while my head’s screaming at me to say it, to open up and tell him. That how I’ve
behaved, how I’ve reacted and held back, is all in the past, that I want him to see the real me. I want
him to finally get through my walls, show him the constant inner chaos of my fucked-up mind, but I
can’t.
Old Emma still has control over my mouth and she’s mortally wounded. Old Emma is recoiling in fear of
rejection, because he is already hurting me and pushing me away.
He pulls away from me, leaving me vulnerable and sits me back down on the chair behind me. The
look on his face stills every word I have brimming in my mind that I want to say. So cold, as though he’s
shut a door and he’s trying to gain distance. I know that look. It’s my look. Nothing I say will make a
difference now, his minds made up.
“We don’t work anymore.” He turns and walks to the windows and stares out, his body tense as he
places a palm against the glass, his focus fixated outside silently for what seems like an eternity. That
powerful body, outlined against the skyline, only serving to torture me.
“We can talk about this, Jake.” I finally manage, my voice broken and childlike. I want to get up and
walk to him, throw myself back in his arms and beg.
Tell him, Emma … Tell him you love him.
“No … There’s nothing to say.” The iciness in his tone kills my voice completely, shutting down the
words I long to let out. A scolding so harsh it silences them. “It’s done, Emma, it’s arranged … Clear
out your things today, take the rest of the day off, then report to the HQ offices first thing tomorrow.
You’ll work for my father from now on.” His tone cruel … Jake’s gone and only the version who left me
on the boat remains, ripping my heart to shreds. I shake my head, a new wave of tears building up
inside of me, the panic and hysteria, and chest-crushing pain returning tenfold.
“Jake …” I can barely talk through the crippling suffocation.
When will this ever end? It hurts so much.
I’m like a bottomless sea of tears that I can never empty. His shoulders sag and he moves closer to the
window, stiffening, his breath forming a small steamed area in front of him.
“Don’t make this harder on both of us … Just go,” he utters it so softly, and so surely, my breath
catches in my throat, stilling my tears as that numb barrier sweeps over me.
I really have lost him.
There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t. He’s closed the door on me. Ironically, after months of me
refusing to open mine and his always being wide open, it’s now shut in my face and locked tight. I’m
too late.
I hold on a moment, in the hope he’ll look at me, but he remains where he is. Pensively staring over
New York, refusing to move. He wants me to go, it’s in every tiny tense cell of his body. I can practically
taste it and yet I’m frozen to the spot, my head reeling and desperate to say so much, but my mouth
stays shut. I’ve lost everything that mattered to me … I lost Jake. He’s all that matters to me.
I stand slowly, limbs shaking, self-preservation kicking in as I forcefully steady myself and turn
deliberately. Concentrating so hard on not crumbling. I walk slowly, agonizing each step, praying he
stops me; but he doesn’t. When I finally open the door, I pause, inhale heavily and take a final turn to
look at him once more; he hasn’t moved. His stiff posture still the same, still emanating hostility.
“Will I see you again?” it’s an impulsive question, my voice filled with fear and longing.
“I don’t think so, Emma … What’s done is done. It’s better this way.” His tone is lifeless, empty. It rips
the last shred of my soul out and lets it loose on the wind, leaving a hollow space, full of fire and hurt. I
can’t bear to look at his strong tall body, held tautly against the New York skyline anymore; this will be
my last memory of him and it’s unbearable. I turn and pull the door closed behind me, walk through my
own office, shut the door which always stood open then I sit at my desk, concealed from everyone and
break down within the circle of my own arms.
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