Page 15 of Corrupted Memories
“What is it?” he repeats, seething.
“I don’t know!” I snap, pulling them closer and rummaging through the papers faster while struggling to read the words.
“Do you know how embarrassing it is to be served a restraining order as a lawyer in your own firm?” His voice is tight and condescending, the blame pointed directly at me.
“A restraining order?”
He nods, pulling at the knot of his tie. “Imagine my surprise when I read my girlfriend of two years had a protective order put out to keep me from contacting her. After she left my promotion party without a word to anyone."
My mouth drops open, rapidly blinking as my thoughts spin. “I did not.”
Well, I did leave. I shake my head. “I mean I didn’t file a protective order.”
Jeremy steps closer, stabbing a finger into the paper. “Your name is on the fucking documents.”
I flinch from the cuss word because it’s so unlike him; an entirely different man is standing before me. It seems so inconsequential, but it’s another piece of my life turned upside down. Jeremy has always been on the softer side, the side I’d never experienced before him.
“I didn’t file it!” I cry, angry tears gathering in the corner of eyes from the exasperation of essentially being called a liar.
He laughs. “Who else would?”
Slumping against the counter, I toss the papers away from me, no longer having the energy for this conversation and preserving any hope of them believing me. I glance at Brittany before looking back at him. “Let me handle this. It’s clearly forged. I’ll have my brother look into it.”
Sighing, he rubs tired hands against his temples before shaking his head. “Brittany is here to observe me gathering a few things peacefully, and then I will cut all contact until it’s resolved.”
It hurts that he's so willing to be done without a fight. He’s accepting it without any consideration of how I feel. If the situation were reversed, I would believe who he is as a person to not do something like this, but it seems he doesn’t have the same inclination toward me.
“Jeremy, you can’t—” I try to step closer, but he throws up his hand to stop me.
“I cannot break the fucking law even if you swear it’s not legitimate. A judge I know… A judge I’ve worked with signed the orders, Gianna. I have to do what’s necessary to preserve my reputation.”
His reputation. That’s all he cares about, and a piece of my heart dies with the realization.
He takes a deep breath before looking at me, resignation flooding his face. “Your brother isn’t a miracle worker.”
“I know that.” I tilt my head, confused but protective. My brother is all I’ve had since I was twelve. He took care of me after our parents died. Jeremy doesn’t have a clue about what we’ve been through. But if anyone can get us out of this mess, and away from Sebastian’s actions, it would be my brother.
He nods slowly. “Even if he can help you prove it, my colleagues saw me get served.”
I turn off the stove before facing him with crossed arms. “What are you saying? Are we breaking up then?”
“Jeremy. We shouldn’t linger.” Brittany speaks up, still standing by the front door. My irritation with her soars, not only because she’s here to be a mediator, but also because of whatever she is doing with Sebastian. I’ve seen the photos the company posted. I shouldn’t care, but fuck, I do. He isn’t mine to be jealous over, but I want to know if she is a constant companion like he claimed, or if she is something more. I also wonder if she’s helping Sebastian destroy Jeremy’s career, and for what? To get back at me? I don’t understand where she fits in, but it bothers me nonetheless.
“I think my boyfriend can stay a few moments longer to explain how his career is more important than me,” I snap back at her.
He groans. “That’s not?—”
“It is. You didn’t stop to think about whether it’s real or not. You haven’t thought about how I would feel if you move your things out, cut contact with me, and act as if we never happened. Your number one priority has always been your career and reputation.”
“Gianna, baby. You know how hard I’ve worked for this, for both of us.” He speaks softly, but I can taste the contempt. I work primarily online doinggraphic design, but he doesn’t view it as real work. It’s why he’s been hinting at becoming more serious over the last few months, so I can stay home with kids.
“It’s not like we need the money,” I tell him spitefully, needing to remind him I would be well off without him. He doesn’t get to make this out as if it’s the best option.
“You, out of everyone, know how much I don’t want to touch my trust fund,” Jeremy says, raising his tone in frustration.
“Whatever, I guess I should be used to being the second choice,” I retort, bitterness making my voice crack.
He laughs and shakes his head, walking toward the bedroom without saying anything more. I don’t mean to make myself out to be the victim, but Jeremy has no idea we both are being used as pawns at the mercy of a blue-eyed monster. I don’t follow him, but instead look back through the papers, noting the law firm used. I text my brother to come over for dinner later, planning to have him go through the papers.
