Page 128 of Take It Offline

I can’t say it. It’s the last defense I have. Once I’ve said it, exposed my underbelly for her, there’s no going back.

I can see her perfect life taking shape—the job she earned, the man she loves, all the good things she deserves. It’s better without me there messing up the details, adding complications or whatever.

“Because it’s better for both of us.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I love you,” she says, as beautifully defiant as ever.

My heart roars in my chest, desperate to return the words, but my throat closes up tight.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth. It’s raw, and it’s real, and it’s not going anywhere.” She swallows audibly, her eyes glassy. “But it doesn’t matter, because you’ve already made your mind up about us.”

The pain on her face makes me want to punch myself.

“I’m not going to bend over backward to try and convince you,” she says. “I deserve better than that. I wish you believed in us as much as I do. And as for this being a whim? You’re wrong. It’s the furthest thing from it. If you need time to work that out for yourself, then I’ll give that to you. And when you’ve gotten your head out of your ass, you can find me and apologize.”

I swallow, locking down the twisted mess of pain squeezing my chest. Becoming the cold, unfeeling villain I used to accuse her of. This is the worst version of myself.

“You’re right,” I admit. “You deserve better than me.”

Emma puts distance between us, the drawbridge rising. “Despite what you think,” she says, a hard edge to her voice, “Idon’t fall in love with every man lucky enough to sleep with me. I don’t want you to misunderstand me, so I’ll say this clearly. I love you, not Logan. And you’re wrong. You know how to love, but you won’t let yourself.” She’s flushed and gorgeous. Completely out of my reach. “When you’re ready to stop standing in your own way, you know where I am. And Charlie?”

I meet her gaze, pulse thudding in my ears.

“You better make it good.”

I don’t want to leave, but it’ll hurt a thousand times worse if I hang on. If my heart is gonna be ripped from my chest, I’d rather be the one to do it. I can’t do that to either of us. I don’t have it in me to hate her.

So I walk away.

Because Emma should be happy.

Even if it leaves my world darker.

This is what’s best for her. If I don’t cut this off—cleave it at the root—neither of us will be free.

It’s a good thing I’m an asshole. Let her hate me for this. At least she won’t be holding on. The least I can do is give her a clean break. No regrets. At least for one of us.

CHAPTER 43

OOPS, YOU RAISED A BAMF

EMMA

My parents started the Conway foundation before I was born. The way they tell it, when Mom found out she was pregnant, they decided they wanted something to hand down to me. The logic of it escapes me, but then, so do a lot of my parents’ decisions.

In fairness to them, the charitable organization—which funds medical research for children—has done a lot of good. They hired a strong team of people with extensive backgrounds in philanthropy, and they’ve at least been smart enough to know that their own strength lies in bringing in donors, rather than handling the finances themselves (something I am eternally grateful for).

Which is why I’m so furious at them.

Together, they have one job—even calling it a job is generous—and now their reckless addiction to money has put the reputation of the foundation at risk.

I find them mid-meal on the terrace.

“Mom, Dad.”

The legs of the chair squeal as I pull it out and sit.

I don’t bother to cover the pregnant silence, and neither do they, although Mom is close. She’s folded her napkin three times now. Dad’s grip tightens on his coffee, but he says nothing.

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