The Trouble With Love(39)

“So, Ems, a story on ex-boyfriends?” he said, smiling his thanks as she handed him the glass. “That doesn’t seem like you.”

“Does it seem like anyone?” she asked, pouring a glass of iced tea for herself. “I’ll confess, it’s not exactly my idea of a good time, but it’s part of the job.”

“Right. Stiletto, huh? That’s what you said in your email? When we were together you were still at the fashion one—”

“Runway,” she said, picking up her notebook off the counter and moving to the living room.

“Right.”

“And you?” she said. “Still at the same firm?”

“Yup. Angling toward partner in the next couple years if I play my cards right.”

“Congrats,” she said, meaning it. Joel didn’t need to work. His family was richer than sin. But he’d loved his job as a corporate law attorney.

He sat across from her, dwarfing the chair in a way none of the other men had, and leaned forward, glass between his big hands, studying her intently. Curiously.

“You look exactly the same,” he said, sounding slightly awed.

She laughed. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I assure you, we women like to hear it.”

“I’m serious!” he said. “Ever since I got your email I’ve been wondering how you’d changed. If you changed. But you’re still the exact same woman I remember.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that, seeing how we ended.”

His smile didn’t fade, but it did soften a bit. “Well…let’s just say one really shitty night doesn’t erase a bunch of great ones.”

Emma swallowed a lump in her throat. This was going to be hard.

She looked down at her notebook. “Okay, so…I’ve been asking all the guys—”

“All of them?”

She glanced up warily, but he merely gave her a playful wink and settled back in his chairs. “Sorry, go ahead. You’ve been asking all of us…”

Emma smiled. “The same three questions. Answer as honestly as you can. I promise not to put your name in it.”

“Yeah, but do you promise not to cry?”

Her mouth opened, and he laughed at her expression. “Kidding. I’ve got no intention of being cruel, and even if I did, I cannot imagine Emma Sinclair shedding a tear.”

She glanced down. Nope. All dried up.

“Okay, Lambert, first question,” she said, faking a jovial tone. Then she looked up, met his eyes. “And remember, be honest.”

He gestured with his glass for her to continue. “When you got my email requesting a meeting…what was your first reaction?”

Joel’s eyes stayed steady on hers. “Hope.”

Emma had been poised to take notes, but her pen faltered. This had been everything she’d been afraid of.

“Sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear,” he said softly. “But you’re one of those girls a guy doesn’t forget, Ems. Especially a guy who wanted to marry you.”

Her eyes closed briefly and she opened them, forcing herself to write down his response even though she knew she wouldn’t be forgetting this awkward moment anytime soon. Damn Cassidy for putting her in this position.

“Okay, next question,” she blurted out, even though his statement deserved a response. A response she couldn’t give. “When you think back to our relationship, the time we spent together, what do you remember? It can be a moment, a feeling—”

He took a sip of his whiskey, his expression thoughtful. “I doubt this is the most clever response you’ve gotten to that question, but that first night we met feels like it’s forever ingrained in my memory. I knew you were the one for me. I know it was one-sided. Knew that there was no love at first sight on your end. But that was okay, I told myself. I told myself I’d make you love me. In a nonpsychotic way, of course,” he added with a grin.

“Of course,” she murmured, her fingers feeling shaky as she wrote in her notebook.

Then she made herself look up. “Joel…”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything. Just ask your last question.”

She let out a sigh, unsure if she was relieved he wasn’t going to force the conversation, or disconcerted that he was dropping all sorts of bombs on her and she was just sitting there like an emotionless lump.

Compared to him, she felt…cold. Well, compared to pretty much anyone she felt cold. Like all the love and feeling that came effortlessly to other people was dead inside her. And Joel’s words magnified that feeling tenfold.

“Okay, last question.” Her voice was croaky, so she tried again. “Last question. What do you remember about why we broke up?”

His smile was forced this time. “Well…that’s an easy one. I wanted to get married. You didn’t. A guy definitely doesn’t forget getting rejected in public while he’s down on one knee.”

Emma withheld the wince. Barely.

“I had to ask,” she said, feeling foolish. “I mean, I’m trying to keep the interview questions the same with everyone, so it’s not like I wanted to rub it in—”

“Ems.” He leaned forward and smiled. “It’s been a few years. I said I hadn’t forgotten, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t healed. I promise I’m not going to throw myself out the window on this incredibly high floor you’re living on.”