Suddenly, a memory comes flying back to me and I sit up straighter.

“I remember that day. I was worried about you. You were particularly grouchy and I wanted to check on you. That’s why I came to your office. You said you did something stupid.”

“You were worried about me?”

I blush, picking at the loose skin on my pointer finger. “Yeah. It was so out of the ordinary for you. Of course I was concerned.”

His mouth twitches a minuscule amount before settling back into a thin line. “Noah gave me your contact info.”

“You shared that you were up for a promotion and competing against someone. You were talking about me.”

Was I truly oblivious, too absorbed and enamored in our conversations to miss a major part of Henry’s identity being revealed? I’m mortified he’s found out I do this for a living. Clearly he’s a man who’s never had to worry about money throughout his life if he’s willing to pay such an exuberant amount for a freaking date to a wedding anniversary.

Is he going to tease me and throw more jokes my way? Will he use this as blackmail to get whatever he wants career-wise? My cheeks burn, not thinking for a second JD would do something so malicious. I don’t think Henry would either, but everything is so topsy-turvy, I’m not sure what’s going to happen now.

My eyes meet his. They’re flooded with heat, no trace of amusement or humor dancing on his face. “Emma. I’m freaking the fuck out. If I had known it was you at any point, I would have shut this down. Immediately.”

I try not to flinch at his dismissiveness. I remember the night we were in the same restaurant and he came up behind me, assuming I was someone else. When he realized his error, Henry was adamant he wouldn’t have approached me if he had seen my face.

I wouldn’t have wasted another second.

The exact words he tossed so casually and callously my way are seared into my memory. They stung like little needles on my skin for hours after, a prickly reminder I’m not what he wants. The same thorny sensation stabs me again.

Everything we’ve built as JD and RB is tumbling down, a house made out of a deck of cards trying to withstand a hurricane.

I hate it.

“Shit, no. I mean I wouldn’t have wanted you to think I was using you. I wasn’t implying I would have rejected you. Fuck, I’m saying all the wrong things. Can we talk about this?” he asks, gesturing across the table.

“Fine,” I relent. “We might as well get everything out in the open. We’ve come this far.”