Emma sat in her office for the full twenty minutes, trying to figure out how to explain Jake without sounding like a victim or making excuses or revealing just how damaged she really was.
Her phone buzzed. Alexander: Downstairs. Take your time.
She grabbed her bag with shaking hands and headed down, her mind racing through possible opening lines. So there's this guy who used to hurt me. Too dramatic. I have a restraining order against my ex. Too clinical. I haven't been entirely honest about my past. Too vague.
Alexander was waiting in the lobby, leaning against his car, and the sight of him—solid, real, hers—almost made Emma cry.
"Hey." He pulled her into a hug immediately, like he could sense her panic. "Whatever it is, we'll handle it."
They drove to Central Park, found a secluded bench away from the crowds. Alexander didn't push, just waited, his hand warm in hers, while Emma gathered the courage to speak.
