Page 79 of Embrace Me Forever

Clayton continues, “Look, we might be opposites in some ways, Blake. As you know, I’ve been a bit of a Romeo, but with Isabelle, it all clicked. I’m betting you had that moment with Georgia-May, too. And honestly, from the sidelines, I’d say your instincts were spot-on. What happened today? Treat it as a learning curve for both of you.”

Flashes of Georgia-May swirl in my thoughts, from the awe-struck moment I first saw her at LAX to the harrowing night I rescued her from Bertram’s men to our serene days in California. She was my world then.

The drive to make amends intensifies as I come to realize how my aversion to being wrong has essentially turned me into a jerk. In ways I can’t fully rationalize, Georgia-May is the first person who’s ever truly thrown me off my game. I find myself clinging to the hope that our relationship is strong enough to weather this. After all, she did say:Missteps won’t disappoint me. All I ask is that you commit fully.

“I need to see her,” I resolve. I don’t hold it against her—not one bit. She’s my Georgia-May, the woman who turns me from a sleeping beast into a man with hope. She’s young but carries herself with a courage that belies her age. As for me? I’ve yet to show her what it really means to be a man, according to my standards. She’s turned my world on its head. Now it’s my turn to set things straight.

Clay’s smile carries a sparkle of approval. He gives my shoulder a firm pat. “Go get her, big guy.”

I rush toward the IT room. The familiar hum of electronic activity surrounds me, yet the space feels eerily empty without her presence.

Thomas, catching sight of me, promptly offers an update. “Rob’s driving her over to Clay’s place. She’s stopping by to pick up Coco.”

The thought of her with her daughter, perhaps finding solace in Isabelle and rethinking everything about us, sets my nerves on edge. I dash out and jump into my car, driving like a bullet shot from a gun.

28

GEORGIA-MAY

I stare at my lap while Rob, seated next to me in the driver’s seat, is lost in his own world of thoughts. The silence between us stretches thick with the aftermath of the past hours.

“I’m really sorry, Rob,” I murmur. I’ve offered apologies too many times to count, yet now, in this solitary moment with him, it feels as if they might hold more weight. “You do believe me, don’t you? That I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

That man has been a pillar of quiet strength from the very start. No, even before the beginning, when my ideas were just sparks waiting to catch fire. He and his brother are among the reasons Coco is thriving today.

Rob turns toward me. Though it’s too dark to see clearly, I can feel the gentleness in his gaze. “Hey,” he begins, his voice calm and soothing, “everyone makes mistakes. When we received the alert from Blake, Thomas broke down just how intricate the software design was. I always knew it was complex, but the full extent really hit me then. Tens of thousands of lines.”

Memories of those sleepless nights flood back, and I recall how my thoughts always circled back to Coco.

He continues, trying to reassure me, “This was a monumental task meant for a team, yet you managed it solo and did so with remarkable skill. Despite the hiccup, the truth stands—your program is nothing short of extraordinary.”

Rob then pauses, turning to me as we stop at a traffic light. “It’s our job at Hartley Marine to do what we do best—to stress-test the code, to hammer out the flaws. You heard what Thomas said, didn’t you? No real harm was done. And I assure you, your efforts on QEOPA won’t go to waste. It’ll take time, but we plan to implement the system.”

His words, simple and sincere, shatter my doubts. Yet, in the quiet comfort of the car, I know this is far from over.

As if on cue, Rob’s phone buzzes sharply against the console. He picks it up with a steady hand, his eyes never leaving the road. “Yeah,” he answers curtly, then listens intently, ending with a confident “I’ve got it!” The intensity in his posture tells me it’s urgent.

Suddenly, the intrusive glare of headlights looms from behind, growing larger and more menacing by the second. Panic grips me, cold and hard.

“Rob! We’re being followed!” I yell, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

He surveys the scene behind us through the mirror. “Yeah, we are, but I’ve got this,” he responds with a calm that belies the danger nipping at our heels.

Instead of speeding up, Rob makes a counterintuitive move. He slows down, easing off the accelerator. The bright beams behind us become overpoweringly bright, yet his expression is one of calculated control. He’s playing a game I don’t fully understand, luring our pursuer closer on his terms.

I stay silent, my mind whirling with confusion and fear, not daring to question Rob’s strategy. As a former SEAL and thepatriarch of the Hartley family, he undoubtedly knows what he’s doing.

The car slows to a complete stop while the pursuing car mirrors our actions, pulling up with ominous ease beside us.

Then, the door of the other car opens, and Blake steps out. His posture is subdued and yielding, reminiscent of a man who’s lost more battles than he’s won lately.

“Rob, please, take me to Coco!” I plead, my voice laced with desperation. I remain firmly seated, unwilling to face Blake. My heart rebels against my mind’s resolve, aching with a fresh, raw pain I’ve never known before. It yearns to leap out, to bridge the distance, to forgive and forget, yet in doing so, it feels the sting of betrayal anew.

“I know you want to be with your daughter,” Rob responds, his voice firm yet empathetic. “But I can assure you, Coco is safe with Isabelle and Wyatt, and Clay is already on his way there.”

“I don’t want to see him ever again,” I whisper fiercely, turning my head away from the window, refusing to let Blake’s presence invade my space any further.

“Come on now, Georgia-May,” Rob presses, his tone insistent yet understanding, acknowledging the tumult of emotions clashing within me.

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