Page 7 of I’m Already Gone

“I got your favorite,” she said, her eyes holding mine a beat longer than necessary.

My brows furrowed slightly. “You did?”

She nodded. “Yes. Italian sub with extra meat and dressing. A bag of regular crinkle chips, and lemonade without ice.”

I looked at her, stunned. How the hell did she know that?

“I pay attention,” she replied as if she’d plucked the unspoken question right out of my mind. A faint blush dusted her cheeks, but her eyes held a challenge, a quiet confidence that bordered on something more... intimate and uncomfortable.

“Right. Because you’re my assistant,” I said, mostly to myself, trying to rationalize it.

She had taken my orders in the past, sure. But this felt... different. More personal.

“Right,” she echoed, her smile widening just a fraction, before she took a seat across from me.

“Emma,” I said, my voice laced with exhaustion, “you really don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have far better things to do than sit here, eating takeout with your boss.”

She dismissed me with a wave. “No. Not at all. Besides”—she shrugged—“you’re drowning in this case. There’s no way you can tackle all of this alone tonight. Let me at least lighten the load, even a little.” Her voice dropped slightly on the last few words.

She met my eyes, and a surprising warmth, an unexpected solace, began to seep through the tight knot of anxiety in my chest. “I understand the relentless grind, Ethan. The impossible balance between the demands of this company and the expectations back home. The constant, silent fight to keep everyone happy.”

“I appreciate that, Emma.” The words felt inadequate for the depth of understanding I felt. More than she could ever know.

A sad smile touched her lips. “It’s part of the job, isn’t it? I know what these hours mean, what they cost.” She slowly unwrapped her sub, methodically spreading mayo on it, her movements deliberate.

“And I understand the toll it takes on you,” she continued, her voice softer now, more direct. “You manage a whole company, and demanding clients calling at all hours. And still, you walk in every morning, acting as if you have everything under control. But there are times, Ethan, when I know you feel like it’s anything but.”

“You talk from experience,” I said, watching her.

She took a bite of her sub, chewing slowly. “I was married for five years before my husband left me. Said I was married to my job, not to him.”

My hand instinctively went to my chest, rubbing the chilling thought of Lily one day saying those same words.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She gave me a faint smile. “Me too, but I’m passed it now. It took a long time, but I was able to pull myself together and move on. Besides, now I can find someone who matches my energy. I don’t want to go home to another argument, or for someone who won’t look at me every day like I’m a disappointment. Do you have any idea what that feels like?” she asked.

Yes, I do, I wanted to scream.

Instead, a quiet, mirthless laugh escaped me. “I feel like I’m a disappointment to my family, every late night, every missed dinner, every single sacrifice is about providing for them. About giving them everything I didn’t have growing up.”

Her expression softened, but there was no pity, only a deep, shared understanding. “That’s because she doesn’t see you here, Ethan. She doesn’t see what you pour into this place every single day. But I do. I see the struggles, the sacrifices.”

She looked at me then with an intensity that reminded me of how Lily used to look at me. A look that said I mattered, that conveyed a silent pride in me. I knew Lily had every right to be angry, to be hurt when I missed Jake’s swim meets, another family dinner, or left her texts unanswered.

But wasn’t that what you did? Sacrificed a little of yourself now so that you would have more time for them later? The thought felt unconvincing, like a big pile of shitty excuses.

“I think you are an extraordinary human being, Ethan Hartley.”

The corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it. “And I think the right guy out there is waiting for you, Emma. One who will appreciate you for exactly who you are, without making you feel like you need to choose.”

She smiles. “I hope so.”

The shift in the air was a comfortable closeness replaced by something entirely new. Something dangerous.

Lily

“Mom, can I ride my bike with the guys?” Jake asked as he strode into the kitchen, phone clutched in one hand.