CHAPTER51
In … Out … In … Out … In …. Out. Slowly and surely.
I force myself to focus on the ceiling light above me and keep going, knowing it helps.
In … Out … In … Out … In … That’s right, nice and steady.
I’m not in Chicago anymore; it’s okay now. I’m in control of this. I regulate my breathing to match my count, bringing myself down from near hysterics, drying my eyes.
In … Out … In … Out … Slower, bring it down a notch.
I’ve overcome this a million times, and I can do it again. I can fix this. I’m better than this.
In … Out … In … Out. Take deep breaths in … It’s getting easier.
In … Out … In … Out. Calmer, smoother breathing.
The tidal wave subsides slowly and the blackness fades out. My lungs move more easily, the heaviness lifting, and I inhale deeply.
In … Out … In … Out.
Like a chant.
I’m in control. I’m not a child anymore. Ray is not here to hurt me.
In … Out … In.
The room around me is safe and still. No one can hurt me anymore. I’m stronger now. I’m more capable. That’s not my life anymore.
In … Out …
The tears disperse fully, and I sniff back the remnants.
In.
Out.
The anger subsides, and I’m left feeling raw and vulnerable. I stop chanting as I breathe fluidly. I’m back in control and laying so very still. It’s easier than it used to be. I’m better at it, and it takes less time now than it used to. New Emma is laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, and she’s remorseful, knowing what she has done. Logical, clear thinking is back in full swing.
I can’t leave it this way with Jake.
I screamed at my boss … my friend. I don’t know if I can face him again.
But if I don’t, it will only get more awkward. I may get fired. I don’t think Jake would fire me, but still.
He can’t work the espresso machine, and coffee is his lifeline. A small smile tugs the corner of my mouth as I picture him trying, and the inner calm of my regained self pushes me to sit up. I’m ashamed and embarrassed.
My iPad lights up on my side table indicating I have an email, and I catch Jake’s name from the corner of my eye. I lean across impulsively, sliding it over, and pull it onto my lap. Opening the screen with a tentative slide, I click on the email notification, chest throbbing heavily.
“Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes gift.”
I open the email, thinking back to the last time he gifted me a song, and my heart retracts a little in pain. Remorse hits me hard, nervous at what this may say.
“Please Forgive Me” by Bryan Adams.
A lump rises in my throat along with the threat of new tears, only this time they’re not in anger or sadness. Jake is trying to make things okay with me, and I can’t just ignore him. The swelling of my heart at his attempt and his sweetness has me on the verge of breaking down. I need to claw back some dignity and face him, let him see that I’m still the same Emma I was. And maybe ask him to forget this ever happened, that I’m not an insane psycho with a troubled past who screams at him and runs away to hide.
Well, maybe I am.
I stand up and walk a bit reluctantly to my door, shaking slightly, and open it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, and steadily walk into the sitting room, my emotions churning like mad.
He’s sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his cell in his hands. His powerful body is tense and stiff, and he’s looking at the floor lost in thought. It’s his thinking pose, when he’s trying to choose a course of action, and I’m overcome with remorse.
I made Jake stressed. I did that.
Felicity is standing in the space by the door pulling on her shoes and glaring at him icily.
Maybe it wasn’t all me.
I wait until she slams out dramatically, expecting him to react, but he stays focused on the floor lost in his own head. She hadn’t even noticed me standing here.
Here goes!
I take a deep breath and walk toward him slowly and unsurely. I have no idea what I’m going to say, as we have never fought this way before. We argue and bicker and have disagreements, but we have never walked out on one another in rage. As I get about four feet away, I glance at him shyly, trembling.
“Jake?” I breathe softly, apprehensively. My voice startles him, and his head snaps up. He must have been lost deep in his thoughts, and I catch the uncertainty in his eye.
“Hey,” he says warily. He looks so lost it physically hurts."
