Page 122 of Take It Offline

“You don’t know how much that means, Charlie.”

Though her tone is sad, the words are laced with a warmth that still takes me aback.

Shifting so I can look at her full-on, I ask, “Can I say something?”

“Could I stop you?” She smiles.

“You’re the only one who could,” I whisper, enjoying the way her eyes darken at the suggestion.

“Then I guess I’ll let you.”

“Your parents are assholes.”

She lets out a short laugh, then hurries to compose herself. “That’s not very nice.”

“Neither is the position they’ve put you in.” I run a hand down my face. “Maybe you can forgive them easily, but it sounds like you’ve done everything you can to help them, and they’renot only ignoring it, but they’re acting like consequences don’t matter, then leaving you to clean up.”

“I know, and Iamangry at them, but… I still love them.”

Ivy stretches across the gap between the armchair and squeezes Emma’s shoulder gently. “You’re allowed to be both. But consider this: you’re their kid, not their minder. Even if you can forgive them for the last time, that should have been enough to stop them from mistake number two.”

“They promised me,” Emma says softly. With those three words, her walls crumble. Her eyes get watery, and her shoulders curl in. “I don’t mind supporting them, but I want the chance to have my own life first. I don’t want to spend all my time worrying about them. Do you know what I hate?” She wipes under one eye, then the other. “I hate that, for most people, living comfortably isaspirational. I hate that I’m familiar with the kind of assholes who would rather keep wealth for themselves than ensure everyone can afford essentials like health care or education. I hate that Roberts never took me seriously, that he saw how much I wanted to prove myself and used that against me. But most of all, I hate that I feel like I always have to be calm and polite about it and not fucking angry, which I am,” she finishes, her breath labored.

Ivy toasts the air. “Damn, is it a bad time for a slow clap?”

Emma is no less beautiful like this, full of as much bite and bark as I’ve ever known her to be. It probably wouldn’t turn a better man on, but I’m no better man.

As much as I want to fix this for her, this isn’t about me, and also,read the room, jackass.Instead, I make do with brushing her hair off her face and ghosting my fingers along her neck. Emma’s lashes flutter under the touch. I leave my hand on her shoulder, trying desperately to offer some help. It’s not until she breathes out and relaxes under my hold that I start to feel the knot in my ribs unravel.

“For the record,” I say. “All of that is worth being angry about.”

“Why not let them wear it?” Reese asks. “Wouldn’t it be on the foundation, rather than your parents?”

Emma shakes her head. “This is less about the debt and more about reputation. If the foundation gets sued, then other organizations won’t work with them, and a lot of the sponsors will pull out to distance themselves.”

“Don’t you think they deserve a little embarrassment after this?”Ivy asks.

“Yes,” she says, clasping her hands in her lap and studying them. “And if that was the only consequence, I would let them lie in the bed they’ve made. But ultimately, my parents mistake will cost the charities they’re trying to help.”

“So, what can we do?” I can’t just sit around and not get involved while she struggles to clean up the mess.

Emma turns to me, lips pressed together. “I can’t ask you to do anything,”

My heart cracks in half at the defeat in her tone. “You’re not asking. We’re going to help you whether you like it or not.”

“What he said,” Ivy adds.

“I appreciate that. Really, I do. But I think it’s high time my parents bear the brunt of my frustrations.”

Except as she lifts a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, I get a glimpse of her wrist—which is unusually bare—it’s obvious she’s already had to pay the price.

I only hope her parents will recognize what she’s doing for them. If they don’t, then I’ll find a way to correct that for them.

Ivy refills our glasses as the tension disappears, and Reese tilts her head to say, “Okay. Okoye versus Catwoman.”

“Pfeiffer or Kravitz?” I ask.

“Excuse me,” Ivy interrupts. “Are we not even going to consider Halle Berry? Or Anne Hathaway?”

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