Messy

EMERALD

“Why can’t this wait until morning?” I said, following Vince out of my apartment.

“You’ll see,” he said, opening the door of his car.

“You said we needed to talk, not go for a ride.” I rolled my eyes and turned around. “I’m going back to bed.”

“It’s Tate,” he said, and I stopped.

Something about the way he said it made something in me scream in agony as it was twisted, squeezed, and ripped apart.

He was worried. Really worried, judging by the look on his face when I turned around.

“What’s happened?” I asked him, almost afraid of the answer.

“You did.” He tilted his head to the car. “We’ll talk on the way.”

“Ugh. Fine, but you owe me some coffee and a breakfast croissant from Ambrosia’s Eatery first thing in the morning, buster, or we ~will~ be having very different words the next time I see your sorry ass.”

“If this goes the way I hope it does, I’ll fucking buy you the whole damn building,” he agreed as I got into the fancy town car and he closed the door.

He pulled onto the street, and I crossed my arms and looked at him.

“We’re on the way. You’re not talking,” I said after a second.

“I’ve known Tate since the day I showed up at boarding school when I was twelve.

“He’s always been a solitary focus kind of guy, but he puts everything he has into whatever it is that’s driving him,” he said, a fond smile on his face.

“At the time, it was getting into trouble, but I discovered that under all the sharp, prickly layers, he has a lot of insecurities.”

“I very much doubt there’s anything about Tate King that can be called insecure.” I snorted.

“I thought that, too, after graduating and going off to college. We kept in touch, but our paths weren’t the same. When he called me and asked me to be his lawyer, I couldn’t really tell who he was anymore.

“That was nearly six years ago. I’ve gotten used to reading him again, and I saw nothing of those issues lingering. Until you.”

“Don’t blame me for his problems.” I narrowed my eyes at Vince.

“I’m not. Those problems come from a very deep-seated and fucked-up situation that has nothing to do with you.

“I never put the pieces together until now, and I feel like I’ve completely failed my best friend. I suppose that means I should thank you, but I won’t. Not yet.”

“Blackmailing me with gratitude?”

“Me being cautious.” He chuckled.

“So, why did you come get me at eleven o’clock at night instead of sleeping like a normal person?” I asked.

“Not that you’re normal, but I would like to believe ~I~ am, and I would very much like to go back to my cozy bubble of delusions.”

“In all the years I’ve known him, I have ~never~ seen Tate like this before. I don’t even know what to call it, but he’s not good, and it’s because of you,” he said.

“What the fuck did ~I~ do?”

“I saw it this morning, Emerald. Whatever the hell is going on, it’s about you, so I want to know what happened to turn you into the icy bitch that’s taken over your body,” he said.

“Friday started off good, so what happened after I took the trash out?”

“Clarity, Vince.” I shook my head. “I got hit with the clarity stick like it was held by Babe Ruth and my head was a baseball.”

“And what did you see in this ‘clarity’? Because it’s hurting the closest thing to a brother I have.” His jaw ticked.

“Why are you so certain that has anything to do with me in the first place?” I shot back, annoyed.

“You think I have some kind of magic influence or something? I know I can be convincing, but on the grand scale of Tate King’s life, I rank in the lower dregs of the bottom.”

“You have to be stupid to believe that bullshit. He asked you to ~marry him~. The will, yes, plays a part, but it took him all of three seconds to name you when we found out.

“He already had the idea of ~some~thing in his head, and we both know the man is completely ignorant of higher emotional attachments and shit,” he snapped.

“Tate is a lot of things, but when it comes to any kind of relationship, he’s like a fucking toddler.

“He really does care about you, Emerald, but he has no idea how to say it so you’ll believe it, and he’s fucking terrified to try.”

“Why would he be scared of anything?” I shook my head.

“The same reason we’re all cautious in a relationship we ~really~ want to work.” Vince shrugged. “Rejection. He’s never been in a long-term, serious relationship before, so he’s never had one go wrong.

“There’s no callous around his heart like the rest of us. His defense is to just avoid them altogether. Now, when he really wants this to work, he has no idea what to do.”

“It’s not real, Vince.” I threw my hands up in the air. “None of this is real beyond the surface. We’re not a couple. He needed someone he could trust, and I’m the fucking moron that agreed. That’s it.”

“It’s real to him,” he stressed. “And, to part of you, it’s real, too, or you wouldn’t be crying right now.”

I swiped at my face and felt the tears and got angry at that part of myself that I was trying so hard to let die in the darkness.

“It doesn’t matter, Vince. He doesn’t do relationships, and this one, no matter what we believe, has an expiration date. Leo wasn’t entirely wrong. I am being used, and when I’m done being useful, it’s over.

“What part of that sounds like involving emotions is a good idea, huh? Because from where I’m sitting, it only looks like wreckage and ruin and broken things that can’t be fixed.

“I’m not dumb enough to believe for a second that ~he~ won’t walk away the same as he went into this. He’s made of unshakable and indestructible stuff that we poor mortals have no name for, while I am very much breakable.

“Fuck, Vince, I’m barely holding on already, and that’s ~before~ Tate! No, I’m not about to cross those lines again. This weekend, I got a glimpse of the future if I do that, and I refuse to let that happen.”

“Who said it had to end?” he said, making every single word in my head run for cover. “Who said it had a time limit? I would bet my ~life~ it wasn’t Tate.”

He had me there. It wasn’t Tate that brought it up. It was me. The only time limit he had spoken of was my answer to his literal proposal. But that was just me beating him to it, right?

“What’s going on in your head?” he asked.

“What makes you think you should know that?”

“Because, clearly, you tend to overthink. I’m asking so I have a heads-up on when you’re going to fuck my best friend up,” he said with a bit of bite in his tone.

“Enough with the judgmental bullshit, Vince. You still haven’t answered my question.” I shook my head.

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“I asked first.”

“Mine’s a foundation question. Yours is just support.”

“Age before beauty.”

“Beauty before brains.”

“Clearly, you’re outmatched there as well.” I rolled my eyes.

“Fine. Point one: you’re right. Tate doesn’t do relationships. There’s a reason but you’ll have to ask him to tell you.” He sighed, holding up fingers as he counted.

“Two: you can fight it all you want to, but you’re already involving emotions if you’re trying so hard to keep them out of this.

“Good idea or not, Emma, you’re already there, so why fight it? Even if it ends, which I doubt, didn’t someone say something about how it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?”

“Whoever said that never felt soul-crushing heartbreak before.” I glared at him.

“Third: Tate works very hard to appear indestructible, but he’s far more fragile and broken than you think.

“Which, coincidentally, is why I came to get you in the middle of the night. You won’t believe anything I say because you have no evidence to say any of what you’re about to see is possible.

“I skipped the arguing and the ‘I’m calling bullshit’ and skipped to the proof.”

He pulled up to the curb outside of Tate’s building and parked, leaving the engine running and the driver door open as he came around the car and waved Yuri off.

He held the car door open for me as I got out and crossed my arms. “He’s going to be pissed at me, but you need to go up there, Emerald.

“It’s entirely up to you, and I won’t stop you if you want me to take you back, but I think you both need this,” he said, waving his hand toward the building behind him.

“I’ll stay for five minutes if you still want to go home afterward.”

“I’d rather call a cab,” I mumbled.

“Tate would kill me if I let you get a cab at this hour,” he deadpanned.

“Isn’t he going to have something to say about dragging me here in the first place?”

“Which is why I’m trying for as much self-preservation as possible so I can maybe get away with slight maiming instead of death, thanks.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

I looked up at the building behind him, and my stomach twisted while my heart clenched.

“Fuck.” I groaned and went inside silently while Yuri held the elevator door for me. “You are the best man in my life right now, Yuri. Don’t ever change.”

“Never, Ms. Wells.” He smiled as the elevator doors closed, and I began my ascent to Tate King’s penthouse.

I closed my eyes and tried to prepare myself for whatever Vince had wanted me to see so badly.

The worst I could think of would be him and whatever woman he had picked for the evening fucking on whichever solid surface was available.

God, I hoped it wasn’t the kitchen island. I’ve eaten there and the thought of ~that~ happening a few hours beforehand was disturbing.

When the elevator opened, I wasn’t entirely prepared for reality, though.

I don’t think anything could have prepared me for this.

I wouldn’t exactly call it destruction since it was mostly harmless things like the throw pillows and magazines and newspapers, but it wasn’t the immaculate space it usually was.

“I told you to fuck off, Vince,” Tate growled from the couch, not looking up from the glass of some dark liquor in his hands.

“I’m not Vince, thank fuck. I can’t imagine going about my life looking like that all the time,” I said, picking up a pillow when his head snapped around so fast he’d need a chiropractor in the morning.

“Emerald? What are you doing here?” he asked, standing up and putting the glass on the table beside him.

“We’ll circle back to that later. Right now, I think we have some more pressing matters at hand.” I gestured around. “Care to explain?”

“Not exactly.” He grimaced.

I huffed and threw the pillow at him, hitting him in the face.

“It’s not a fish, but I’ll take my wins where I can.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I was asking to give you the chance to be cooperative, by the way.

“I was dragged here after a long day of hunting for employment and packing my depressingly meager belongings, so I’m getting answers one way or another. Personally, I’m tired of fighting.

“It’s all we’ve done for nearly a week, and I just want to be left alone for a few more hours before you’re forced to suffer my presence for the next two years, and I get the third degree for being in your space.”

“I’m going to kill Vince,” he muttered, grabbing his glass and draining it.

“Take a number.” I glared as he went toward the kitchen to refill.

“I’ll call you a car,” he said.

“Cold dismissal, Mr. King, but I’m convinced your buddy will just bring me back, and we’ll end up right where we are now, so it would be a wasted effort.” I tossed another pillow toward the couch as I followed him.

“I’d be able to drink more before then, so not completely wasted.” He raised his glass in a salute.

“If it’s that unbearable, why did you even suggest I move in now? We had months before we needed to be at this point. Hell, we could go so far as the wedding to avoid me getting on your nerves.”

“Yeah, you’re getting on my nerves, Emerald, but not because you’re here,” he snapped, then gestured between us. “It’s because you aren’t ~here~.”

“What does that even mean?” I threw my hands up. “It’s not like it’s real, so what does it matter?”

“It’s ~real~!” he shouted and slammed the glass down hard enough to make me flinch and expect broken glass. Shockingly, it remained intact. “To me, it’s real. Why can’t it be real for you?”

Well, that wasn’t what I had expected to hear. It caught me by surprise and left me standing there staring with my mouth hanging open.

“I thought, maybe it could be. I was sure that it would just take a bit of time for you to see that you weren’t just a means to an end for me.

“It’s convenient timing, but I wanted more than just convenience,” he continued, running his hand through his hair. “Clearly, I was mistaken and delusional.”

I sat down heavily on a stool as my mind raced with this new information. How in the world could Tate freaking King want ~more~? With me, of all people?

It made no sense, and if I wasn’t seeing this right now for myself, I wouldn’t believe it. Vince was right. I needed to ~see~ in order to believe.

“Do…do you know why I got so mad in the car the other day?” I asked slowly, picking my words carefully so we might be able to sort this fucked-up mess out a little bit. For both of our sakes.

“You’re very proud, Emerald.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep like that.”

“That’s what I held on to, but it’s not the whole reason,” I admitted. “You do see how much of a gap there is between us, right?

“I mean, you’re the rich asshole I worked for and was daydreaming about fish-slapping a week ago.”

“Pretty sure you still want to do that.” He snorted.

“Why would I ever believe any of this actually means anything beyond face value?” I asked him.

“Face it, I’m outclassed by you, Tate. You have a giant penthouse, while I have a teeny shoebox apartment on the slightly seedy side of town.

“My car is pushing fifteen years old while your ass is literally pampered by something that just rolled off the assembly line.

“I haven’t bought new clothes, I mean honestly ~new~, in over six years. Well, unless you count undies, but no one does.”

“And yet, everything about you makes it all seem so worthless.” He shook his head.

“I got so angry because I had started to forget what it was we were getting into. You needed someone you could trust not to fuck you over.

“Why you thought of me will always confuse the shit out of me, but you did, and you don’t seem to have many people that you trust,” I said.

“That’s all it was supposed to be—an arrangement to help you keep your family legacy out of your brothers’ grubby little mitts.

“But it had to be real enough to be convincing but not real enough to have you uncomfortable with me being around all the time.”

“What makes you think that would make me uncomfortable? Have I done anything that would make you think I didn’t want you here?”

“You find women, fuck them, then walk away. What part of that says that you wanted anything more?”

I tapped the island countertop. “You’re a charming man, Tate King. Despite you practically taking a vow of celibacy, you’d get tired of your hand. What do you think would happen then?

“What part of anything you know about me made you think one night, a few hours, would be enough? You don’t do repeats, Tate. One time and you wash your hands of them.

“Not to mention, I don’t do casual, so emotions are bound to get involved. And they did. A hell of a lot faster than I expected, by the way.”

“They did?” He frowned.

“I can handle a few insensitive words a lot better than I’ve shown, which is embarrassing, but it hurt a fuck ton more coming from you than it would have coming from anyone else. Including my own brother.”

I sighed and let him ponder that for a moment while I chose what to say next.

“You know the effect you have on women. I happen to be one, and I have a pulse, so I’m not immune. I’m just good at separating things so they don’t get messy, and ‘messy’ is exactly what happened.

“All of this is messy for a whole list of reasons, but I think my mom was on to something at the zoo. We have a serious issue with communication.”

“What do you mean?”

“I ~wanted~ it to be real, too,” I whispered. “But you and me? How can it be real when, to me, you’re probably the closest thing to unbelievable that it can get?

“Mixing things up, involving more than what was necessary to keep King Industries safe from Fuckwit and Moneybags, it would only lead me into a dark, painful place when it was over.

“So, I retreated behind my lines where it was supposed to be safe.”

The swirling, wispy patterns in the countertop were suddenly very interesting as I tried to save some shred of my dignity by not looking at… God, I didn’t even know what to call him anymore.

This had started off so insanely twisted up and I tried to fix it only for Vince fucking Hyatt to come over and shake the damn snow globe like a maraca. Asshole. And what do I do to assholes?

My hand was already protesting the abuse when I punched his stupid face the very next time I saw him.

“You want it to be real?” he finally said, making me jump when it came from a lot closer than from across the kitchen. “Still?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to actually talk because I’d probably end up saying something stupid and mess things up when they were finally starting to settle down again.

“So do I,” he said quietly.

I felt his hands on my cheeks, holding my face and tilting my head up gently so I was looking at him.

“This is going to get very messy, Tate.” I shook my head softly.

“Did you see the entryway?” He smirked. “I don’t mind ‘messy,’ Emerald. I’m not good with long term, and I’m going to fuck up more. But I want to try. Please?”

“I do things on my own. I don’t like taking help because it feels like charity. I don’t share my problems and burdens well,” I warned him.

“I still want to try, but you aren’t alone anymore, Emerald.”

I took a shuddering breath and closed my eyes. I was so freaking terrified, and my mind was spinning, so I couldn’t even put my finger on the biggest fear that was swirling around in the madness.

I hated not being able to put a label on my thoughts and feelings, and this was not a great feeling right now.

But it was all balanced out, oddly enough, when I felt Tate gently kiss my forehead, his lips lingering as he took a deep breath as well.

“We’re going to kill each other,” I muttered.

“I’ll hide the fish if that makes any difference,” he replied.

I laughed an unsteady, shaking, fragile-sounding laugh and put my arms around his waist.

The stools were tall enough, so the height difference wasn’t much more than it usually was, thankfully, so when he stepped closer to hug me back, my head was on his lower chest.

“You’re still a freak of nature with this stupid height,” I sighed.

“You can wear any heel you want, though,” he chuckled.

“Fuck you, Tate. I am not about to break my damn neck wearing heels,” I barked out a laugh.

“I’m okay with that, my little shrimp,” he laughed, and I pinched his ribs, making him shout and jump backward, nearly knocking me off the stool. “Don’t do that!”

“Oh my god,” I gasped slowly, my eyes growing wide with evil realization. “Tate, are you ~ticklish~!”

“No. No, Emerald, stop that,” he held up his hands in defense as I slowly got off the stool and stalked slower, my own hands raising to launch an attack. “It’s not funny, Emerald. Stop it!”

Tate had some pretty impressive moves when it came to dodging, but I’d had plenty of practice because Lance and I used to play flag football with Mom and Dad all the time.

I chased him into the living room before he caught my wrist and spun me around, pinning my back to his front with my arms crossed over my chest.

“You are an evil woman, Emerald Wells,” he said in my ear and kissed my cheek.

“Consider it payback for being a dick for the past ten months.” I laughed.

“Speaking of payback, what are we going to do with Vince?”

“Got any fish?”