Chapter 4 That Guy
He didn't answer.
He just turned and walked out of the house, leaving her standing in the living room.
The bodyguard followed him, carrying his suitcase.
Emma stared at his retreating back and clenching her jaw.
She dragged herself to her room and lay on the bed. Yesterday's memories flashed through her mind. She shook her head.
No, I can't be thinking about him. That was a mistake, she thought.
Her father hadn't talked about it earlier.
Why. He could have said something.
Brushing the thought aside, she picked up her towel and walked into the bathroom. She removed the gown she'd been wearing since yesterday and stepped into the shower.
The water slid down her skin. With her hair soaked, she felt relieved. Stepping out of the shower, she used the towel to mop her hair dry. Standing in front of the mirror, she stared at her reflection.
Her eyes were swollen, and her lips were red and swollen. She sighed. She slapped a hand against her forehead.
Why a stranger? Why? What a pity he was wearing a mask. Why didn't I ask his name?
When she remembered how Andrew had pulled her away so quickly, she sighed.
Once she goes to the small town of Los Feliz, she would never meet the stranger again.
She walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. Picking up a simple, short, cream-colored gown, she applied a little pink gloss, pulled her hair into a ponytail, then picked up her bag and headed out of the room.
She entered her blue compact SUV and drove to her father's company. She needed to know his reasons for sending her to Los Feliz. She was convinced there was more to this.
She walked into the office. Her dad sat behind his computer, tapping away.
“Dad!”
She looked up at him. He looked up from his computer.
“Emma,” he said quietly. He was surprised she was in his office.
Emma pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
“Dad, I'm not going,” she said flatly. She wouldn't let him just ship her out of the city like that.
“Emma, we already discussed this.”
“You discussed it. I never agreed.”
He shut down the computer, slowly stood from his chair, walked to her side, and sat on the edge of the table.
“You're going,” he said.
“This isn't up for debate.”
“Why? Just tell me why. You can't just decide my whole life and not even explain it to me.”
His jaw tightened, and for a second, she thought he'd just send her away like he always did when he made a final decision. But he didn't.
“Do you know why I never talk about my sister?” he asked.
She blinked. “Aunt Laura? What does she have to do with this?”
“When your Aunt Laura and I were your age,” he said slowly, “she went through something similar to what you're going through now. Lost her job. Got her heart broken. And instead of leaving, instead of getting away from it all for a while, she stayed in the middle of it. She let it eat her alive, Emma. It took her years to come back from that.”
She sat there quietly, something twisting in her chest.
Aunt Laura was never really talked about. She was always distant. She lived in a world of her own, or so Emma had always believed.
“I'm not doing this to punish you,” he continued. “I'm doing this because I watched what staying too close to that pain did to someone I loved, and I refuse to watch it happen to my own daughter,” he said, tapping his hand on the edge of the table.
Tears gathered behind her eyes. Grief, anger, and pain rose in her chest.
“Your grandmother is alone out there too,” he added, quieter now. “It wouldn't hurt for the two of you to have each other for a while.”
She didn't say anything. She just sat there. Her father picked up his pad and left for the next meeting.
She looked at the spot where her father had stood earlier and trembled.
Wish Mum was here. She could have pleaded on my behalf.
She stood up, slid the bag over her shoulder, and walked out of her father's office.
He had made his decision. She regretted going to the café. She should have gone to a library, a graveyard, or anywhere quiet and just cried her eyes out.
But then, the masked man. If she had gone to the graveyard, would she have seen him? Maybe never meeting him was for the best.
She pulled the seat belt across her body, fastened it, and drove back home.
She packed slowly, folding each item in the suitcase carefully, as if they might break.
Jeans. Sweaters. The boots she hadn't worn since college. All carefully arranged in the suitcase.
She zipped the suitcase shut and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the packed bag like it was a stranger in her room.
I'm done with love, she thought. Done with giving my whole heart to someone just to have them hand it back to me in pieces.
Done with believing someone when they say forever.
No more Logans. No more men who smile at you with one face and betray you with the other.
Why Logan? Why?
The thought of Logan made her stomach churn.
This is my last time. No more love. No more Logan.
She screamed in her head, but her stupid mind wouldn't stop remembering the masked man.
She shook her head, trying to push the thought away.
“No more masked man.” She shouted out of frustration.
That was a mistake, and it would remain like that forever.
She looked at the room for the last time, making sure nothing was left. She pulled the suitcase across the floor.
She walked into the parlour. Andrew was waiting for her. He took the suitcase from her and walked her to the Jeep. She looked at the house for the last time.
Maybe leaving was for the best. I barely have anyone here anymore. Dad doesn't care about me. Maybe Grandma could help. At least she won't be lonely.
“Madam, we're here. Boss said I should stop here,” Andrew said, looking through the rearview mirror.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Andrew, did you tell Dad about that guy?” She had been contemplating asking Andrew about it.
“No, ma'am. Your private life is none of my business.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Let it stay between you and me. Make sure to tell your colleagues to keep their mouths shut.”
“Yes, ma'am”.
Andrew's eyes
flicked toward the rearview mirror.
“There's one problem, ma'am.”
Emma frowned. “What?”
He hesitated.
“Your father already knows.”
