31. Ember

31

EMBER

T he rampant thoughts of bewilderment roll through me as fast as this elevator’s descent. What the hell is he doing here? And where the hell are my parents?

With a ding, the doors glide open gracefully, and I step into the pristine lobby. The modern marble flooring and all white everything makes this place feel like pure luxury, which I am certain Elliot was not expecting.

I round the corner, where bright orange couches contrast the white walls against the black and white abstract art. Elliot stands in the center like an eyesore, completely out of place.

He turns, relief washing over him when he sees me, like I’m here against my will.

“What are you doing here?” My tone is far more aggressive than I intend, but I don’t care.

“What are you doing here ?” he repeats, waving his hand in big circles as a reference to this specific building.

“I don’t have to answer you when you shouldn’t even be here, Elliot. My parents told me they were dropping off my car. I should have known not to expect them to go out of their way for me, and send you here instead.” The hurt I’m feeling comes out as anger. They couldn’t do this for me. This one thing. Instead, they sent Elliot as a replacement, like they always have over the years. And his loyalty to them clearly outshines his loyalty to me. He didn’t bother to text me or tell me what their plan was. He just went in on it with them.

“I came here for you. Because I wanted to see you, baby.” He reaches for my hand, but I step back, out of his reach.

“Elliot, we broke up.” I shouldn’t have to remind him of the last time we saw each other.

“Em, you needed time. That’s all.”

The way he disregards me is just a subtle reminder of the way he treated me, always telling me what I needed.

He clears his throat, hesitating for a moment. “You’re the only woman I want, and it doesn’t make sense for us to be with anyone else. Your father needs this.”

I can’t help but cock my head at him in disgust. My father needs this. I spent most of my adult life with a guy because my parents wanted me to. I’ve never had a choice.

He continues, which is weird considering my facial expression is completely uninterested in whatever else he has to say, “We’ve been together forever, Em. You just got scared. I’ve given you space. I haven’t called or texted you. We let you put yourself through school. Then all of a sudden you needed time,” the air quotes with an eye roll, “and we gave that to you. What else do you want?”

He doesn’t miss a beat in shaming me, probably following the Robert Riley manual of how to make an obedient woman. He discredits my goals and dreams, just like my parents always have. It makes me want to scream and rip out my own hair. Why does everyone feel like they know more about what I want than I do?

“Elliot, you’ve always chosen my parents over me. And right now, finally, I’m choosing me over everyone else. Call me selfish, I don’t care. I told you that when you proposed and embarrassed me in front of everyone. I told you not to do that, and you did it, anyway.”

He proposed in a way that wasn’t a question. It was a command, a statement. Not giving me a voice, a choice, or an option, and everyone screamed and cheered before I could even open my mouth to respond. He proposed in public so I couldn’t reject him, sliding the ring on my finger in front of everyone while I remained mute and stone cold. The ring felt like a jail around my soul the moment it glided past my knuckle.

Nothing like the exhilaration I felt when Hudson gave me his.

“Ember, you love me. You just felt confused. It’s normal.” He continues to push.

“I met someone,” I reply in a whisper. Not because I’m ashamed, but because I don’t want to be cruel.

“Yeah, your parents mentioned you’ve been staying with a friend, but I know you, Em. You just told them that so you could get away. You forget how well I know you, baby. You just needed time, but time’s up.” He takes a step toward me. “It’s time to come home.”

“She is home.” Hudson’s deep gravelly voice thunders through my body from behind me.

“Who are you?” Elliot tips his head to look behind me, although Hudson’s colossal force is unavoidable in the now crowded space.

“Hudson Byrnes. Ember’s husband.” He stands next to me, and instead of wrapping his arm around my shoulder in ownership, his hand reaches down to my side, interlacing his fingers through mine, giving me both my own power and his strength at the same time.

Elliot’s face falls. To the floor. Hard. He blinks, confused.

I feel… bad. I don’t want to hurt him. He doesn’t mean to hu rt me. He just has no idea how to let me have a voice of my own. He never has.

“Em…” He looks back at me, then down to my hand that reveals the two-carat emerald-cut diamond on the same finger he tried to claim. But not for himself, not for me, and certainly not for love. For him, it’s ownership and image, all for the benefit of my father.

“Thanks for bringing her car. Do you need a ride to the airport?” Hudson asks, ending this unwelcome reunion.

“N-No…” His eyes glaring between me, Hudson, and the door. “No, I’m good.” His voice decibels softer than ever before.

He steps forward, dangling the keys from his pointer finger before dropping them in my outstretched hand.

“So, I’ll see ya, then?” He pauses, like I could possibly change my mind and step to his side.

“Bye, Elliot.” I squeeze Hudson’s hand. A silent thank you for helping me.

We watch Elliot retreat a few steps before turning around, giving us his back, and walking through the glass doors of the lobby onto the sidewalk and out of view.

I breathe for what feels like the first time since I stepped out of the elevators.

Realization hits me. It’s not the first time, but the first time it sinks in to my core like an immovable root.

My parents truly don’t give a shit about anything that has to do with any choice I want to make for myself. I thought maybe they just wanted to insist they think they know what’s best for me, but it’s deeper than that. They don’t have any faith in me. Who I am. My choices.

And they don’t care.

My heart feels like it’s breaking, tearing into miniature fragments of dust that can never be repaired.

No matter what I do, I will never be good enough for them.