Chapter 62 062
RYAN
I kept turning to look at Emily.
She sat beside me in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in her lap, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Every time the car slowed for a red light, I stole another glance—quick and careful, like I was afraid she’d catch me. She looked beautiful in that dark dress that hugged her curves just right, hair loose over her shoulders, lips painted a soft red that caught the glow of passing headlights. But her eyes… they were distant. Quiet. They looked like she already regretted saying yes to this date.
My chest tightened, a knot I couldn’t shake.
I cleared my throat. The sound was too loud in the quiet car.
“I’m really sorry about the flowers.”
She shrugged, still watching the city slide past outside the window.
“It’s chill.”
Her voice was soft—too soft—like she was trying to convince herself more than me. The words landed flat between us, and the silence stretched.
I gripped the wheel a little tighter, thumb tapping against the leather, searching for something else to say, anything to break the tension.
The light turned green. I eased forward.
Another glance.
She hadn’t moved. Same position. Same faraway look. The streetlights flickered across her face—gold, then shadow, gold, then shadow.
I swallowed, trying to keep steady.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
She finally turned her head. Just a little. Enough for our eyes to meet in the dim light.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Her tone wasn’t angry. It wasn’t warm either. It was careful, like she was testing the ground beneath her feet.
I nodded once.
“Yeah. You are.”
The car filled with quiet again. Just the hum of the engine. The soft click of the turn signal as I changed lanes. The faint jazz drifting through the speakers was almost comforting, almost normal.
I wanted to reach over. Wanted to take her hand. Wanted to tell her I’d been thinking about tonight the whole day, planning it, second-guessing it, hoping she’d love it.
I wanted her to know just how much this mattered.
But I didn’t.
I just drove.
And kept stealing glances.
Wondering if she could feel how badly I wanted this to work.
Wondering if she was thinking the same thing.
I swerved gently into the restaurant parking lot and killed the engine. My heart was still racing, nerves buzzing in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I took a deep breath and got out first, walking around to her side and opening the door. She took my hand when I offered it—her fingers cool against mine—and stepped out, small and delicate like she always was.
The moment she looked up at the building, her breath caught.
“Ohhhh…” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ry… you didn’t.”
I smiled, small, nervous, and hopeful. “Shall we?”
She let me lead her inside.
The restaurant hadn’t changed much. Same warm wood paneling. Same low lighting. Same quiet jazz drifting from hidden speakers. Same corner table by the window where I’d proposed to her years ago. I’d called ahead. Reserved it. Told them it was important.
We sat. She looked around slowly, eyes tracing the familiar walls, the candle flickering between us, casting shadows on her face that made her look softer somehow, like she belonged in this space, here with me.
“This place has changed a lot,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
I nodded. “A little. But it still feels the same.”
She noticed me watching her. A faint blush crept up her cheeks. “What?”
I chuckled, leaning forward on my elbows. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Her smile was small, real, shy. “Thanks.”
The waiter came over. We ordered her favorite pasta, my usual steak, and the wine we used to drink on special nights.
Just as I opened my mouth to say something—anything—to fill the quiet, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I glanced at the screen. Miranda.
I looked at Emily. “Excuse me. I have to take this.”
She nodded, eyes flicking away, polite but tense. “Okay.”
I stood and walked to the corridor outside the main dining area—quiet, shadowed, and away from the tables.
I answered. “Miranda.”
“Boss…” Her voice was rushed and panicked. “I need you to come to the office. Please.”
I leaned against the wall. “Calm down. Talk to me calmly.”
She drew a deep breath. “One of our clients’ websites crashed right on launch day. They’ve been raging mad since this morning. Emails. Calls. Threats to sue.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Who?”
She named the company.
Shit. The one we’d been chasing for months. The big one. The one that would’ve put us on the map.
“Switch to video,” I said.
She did. Her face filled the screen—eyes wide, hair messy, stress written all over her like a neon sign screaming at me.
I forced my voice steady. “Calm down. We’ll fix it.”
She nodded, swallowing hard, biting her lip.
“Are you outside?” she asked, squinting at the background behind me.
I glanced behind me. “Yeah. But that’s not what’s important right now.”
Miranda scoffed softly. “With your baby mama?”
I sighed, irritation sparking. “What are you playing at?”
She shrugged. “I thought we were still pretending I was your girlfriend. That phase faded too fast, huh?”
I felt anger flare—hot, sudden. “Come on, Miranda. If you don’t want to help me fix my shit, I advise you end this call and submit your resignation letter.”
“Sorry, boss,” she said quickly, flustered.
“Good. Now how do we fix it?”
I talked her through it—step by step. Backup server switch, emergency patch, client communication script, damage control timeline. She listened with rapt attention, nodding, typing notes like her life depended on it.
Every once in a while, she muttered under her breath, “Okay… got it… yes… yes, boss…”
When I finished, I checked the time. I’d been out here more than an hour.
Shit. I left Emily for too long.