Page 58 of The Promises We Break

“Fuck,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers, still unable to stop a smile from lifting at the side of my lips at the fact that she’s opening up to me, that I get any part of her for even a tiny bit.

“Don’t move.” I kiss the tip of her nose, pull the waistband of my pants up, and walk to the intercom.

“Hello.” I press the intercom button to the lobby desk.

“Mr. Byrnes, sir. There is someone here to see Mrs. Byrnes. He provided the name Robert Riley, which Mrs. Byrnes gave us yesterday, but upon checking his ID, it actually says Elliot Jones.”

Giving myself a mini whiplash, I turn to look at Ember. Her widened eyes and suddenly pale face tell me she is just as shocked as I am to hear that.

She jumps off the counter, grabbing her zip up sweater laying over the top of the couch, and slips on her flip flops.

“I’ll be right back.” She reaches for the handle of the front door.

I place my hand over hers. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, I can handle this.” She smiles. It’s soft, unsure.

The worry behind her eyes is like a goddamn trumpet and just as chaotic as the music it makes. I’m confident she can handle it. I’m not confident she won’t become a verbal punching bag in the process.

I purse my lips and allow my hand to slide off hers. “Okay.”

31

EMBER

The rampant thoughts of bewilderment roll through me as fast as this elevator’s descent. What the hell is he doing here? And where the hell are my parents?

With a ding, the doors glide open gracefully, and I step into the pristine lobby. The modern marble flooring and all white everything makes this place feel like pure luxury, which I am certain Elliot was not expecting.

I round the corner, where bright orange couches contrast the white walls against the black and white abstract art. Elliot stands in the center like an eyesore, completely out of place.

He turns, relief washing over him when he sees me, like I’m here against my will.

“What areyoudoing here?” My tone is far more aggressive than I intend, but I don’t care.

“What are you doinghere?” he repeats, waving his hand in big circles as a reference to this specific building.

“I don’t have to answer you when you shouldn’t even be here, Elliot. My parents told me they were dropping off my car. I should have known not to expect them to go out of their way for me, and send you here instead.” The hurt I’m feeling comesout as anger. They couldn’t do this for me. This one thing. Instead, they sent Elliot as a replacement, like they always have over the years. And his loyalty to them clearly outshines his loyalty to me. He didn’t bother to text me or tell me what their plan was. He just went in on it with them.

“I came here for you. Because I wanted to see you, baby.” He reaches for my hand, but I step back, out of his reach.

“Elliot, we broke up.” I shouldn’t have to remind him of the last time we saw each other.

“Em, you needed time. That’s all.”

The way he disregards me is just a subtle reminder of the way he treated me, always telling me what I needed.

He clears his throat, hesitating for a moment. “You’re the only woman I want, and it doesn’t make sense for us to be with anyone else. Your father needs this.”

I can’t help but cock my head at him in disgust. My father needs this. I spent most of my adult life with a guy because my parents wanted me to. I’ve never had a choice.

He continues, which is weird considering my facial expression is completely uninterested in whatever else he has to say, “We’ve been together forever, Em. You just got scared. I’ve given you space. I haven’t called or texted you. We let you put yourself through school. Then all of a sudden you needed time,” the air quotes with an eye roll, “and we gave that to you. What else do you want?”

He doesn’t miss a beat in shaming me, probably following the Robert Riley manual ofhow to make an obedient woman.He discredits my goals and dreams, just like my parents always have. It makes me want to scream and rip out my own hair. Why does everyone feel like they know more about what I want than I do?

“Elliot, you’ve always chosen my parents over me. And right now, finally, I’m choosing me over everyone else. Call me selfish, I don’t care. I told you that when you proposed andembarrassed me in front of everyone. I told you not to do that, and you did it, anyway.”

He proposed in a way that wasn’t a question. It was a command, a statement. Not giving me a voice, a choice, or an option, and everyone screamed and cheered before I could even open my mouth to respond. He proposed in public so I couldn’t reject him, sliding the ring on my finger in front of everyone while I remained mute and stone cold. The ring felt like a jail around my soul the moment it glided past my knuckle.

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