Emma's POV:

"I thought I needed to go home. I definitely drank too much tonight." Brandon tried to laugh, but his words slurred together.

Dinner ended and we found ourselves wandering into a dim bar just a few doors down. Brandon ordered glass after glass of whiskey and beer. I stayed with water and a couple of fruity drinks that did not have any alcohol.

"You know what, you might actually be right." I laughed. "Come on. Let's get you home."

"Oh, this is going to be something to remember." He grinned, his eyes sparkling.

"That is not what I meant," I replied, laughing as I stood up.

Brandon rolled his eyes and tried to get to his feet, but he swayed and nearly lost his balance. I grabbed his arm before he could stumble and kept him upright. Walking him to the car took patience and a firm grip, but I managed it without either of us taking a fall. I helped him into the passenger seat and then climbed in behind the wheel.

"So, where do you live?" I asked, glancing over at him.

I had never been to his place, so I had no idea where to go. Brandon got quiet and tapped his chin with his finger.

I could not help but laugh as he struggled to remember his own address. There was something amusing about watching him try so hard. After a few minutes, he finally blurted it out. I knew he was going to regret tonight in the morning. I typed the address into my GPS and started driving, following the route. The ride felt twice as long as usual, made heavier by the silence between us. When we finally pulled up, I stared at the house, taken aback. The place looked incredible.

The house stretched out behind tall hedges and a wide driveway, much too big for just one person to live in, if anyone asked me. I pulled up to the garage and parked. Then I got out and circled the car to help him.

"Emma, what do you think you're doing?" He laughed, reaching out and tapping my nose with his finger.

"I'm making sure your drunk self actually makes it home," I muttered, laughing along with him.

"Oh. Alright then. You need to get my keys. They're right there." He pointed at his jeans pocket.

I paused, not thrilled about fishing around in his pocket, but there really was not another option. He was way too drunk to handle it on his own. I sighed and slipped my hand into his pocket, feeling around until I touched the cold metal of his keys.

I closed my fingers around the keys and felt the cool metal press into my palm.

"It's a little more to the left," he stammered, flashing a sly, mischievous grin that left no doubt about what he really meant.

I shot him a look, knowing exactly what he was up to, and pulled my hand out of his pocket as quickly as I could with the keys in tow. He turned to me and pouted like a sulking child.

"You're really no fun tonight," he responded, crossing his arms over his chest in mock annoyance.

"Brandon, get your drunk self inside," I blurted with a chuckle. "Stop acting like a total pervert."

"I'm your boss, you do remember that, don't you, Miss Emma?" He tried to sound stern, but that lopsided grin ruined any chance of him being taken seriously.

"Keep moving," I instructed, pointing at the front door and laughing under my breath.

Brandon stuck his tongue out and pushed off the car, wobbling like a kid trying out his legs for the first time, nearly tripping over his own shoes.

I never would have guessed he'd turn out to be this kind of drunk, but I had to admit, he was making the whole night more entertaining. I walked behind him, then darted ahead to open the door before he could try to handle it himself.

"Nice view," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

I pretended not to notice, chalking it up to the whiskey and beer. I swung the door open and helped him inside, feeling along the wall for a light switch. When I finally found it and the room filled with light, my eyes grew wide at what I saw.

"Wow..."

He really knew how to decorate. The place looked incredible, and I had only seen the hallway and part of the living room. I glanced around and noticed some framed photos on a nearby table. He still kept pictures of himself and Darcy, including a few from their wedding day. They both looked amazing in those photos. They looked happy, and for a second, my chest tightened for him.

He clearly was not ready to let go of that chapter, and honestly, I could not blame him. He probably thought she would be his forever, that he would spend the rest of his life with her.

"I need a drink," he said, pulling away from me and weaving down the hall. I stayed close, worried he might trip over his own feet.

He wandered into a room that had been converted into a home bar. He headed right for the shelves, but before he could grab anything, I caught his arm and held him back.

"What you really need is coffee and water. You still have work in the morning, remember?" I retorted.

He turned slowly, shooting me a look that made it clear he did not appreciate the advice.

"Yes, mom," he answered, full of sarcasm.

"Where's the kitchen?" I asked, determined to save him from himself.

"Over there," he replied, pointing vaguely toward the doorway we had come through just a few minutes earlier.

That did not help at all. I realized I would have to find it myself. I looped my arm through his and kept him close, steering him away from the bottles on the shelves. After about ten minutes of wandering around that enormous house, I finally stumbled into the kitchen.

"Sit down before you fall over, Brandon. Please." I glanced at him.

"Alright," he whispered, sliding onto the edge of the breakfast counter.

I searched through cabinets and drawers until I found the coffee machine, then set to work making a pot of strong coffee. I poured two mugs—one for him and one for me—and sat across from him at the counter. He stared down at his hands, his face clouded with something heavy and sad.

"Brandon, are you okay?" I asked, my voice softening.

"No, I'm really not. I hate this house. It's too big and too empty. I need to leave. I just... can't stay here anymore." His voice was weighed down by sadness and defeat.

"Why couldn't I move on like she did, Emma? She moved on even before we ended things—so why am I still stuck? It's been six damn months, and I still feel like nothing but a shadow of the man I used to be." His voice trembled, anger and disappointment sharpening every word.

My chest tightened for him. The pain in his eyes was raw, and I would never wish that kind of hurt on anyone.

I reached across the counter and placed my hand gently over his.

"You loved her, Brandon. You still do, and that's why it hurts so much. It doesn't make you pathetic, not one bit. You just need more time. You'll get through this—maybe not today, but eventually. That's what being human means, and it's okay to feel this way. I promise, it won't last forever." I tried to smile, hoping it might help.

He let out a shaky sigh and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you're right, Emma," he replied quietly, lifting his mug and taking a long sip of coffee.

A quiet settled over us, heavy but gentle. He drifted into his thoughts, probably thinking about everything he had lost and all the pieces he still had to pick up. I did not say another word. I let him sit with his memories until he finished the last of his coffee.

"I probably should head to bed," he said, pushing himself up from the counter but nearly losing his balance the second he stood.

"Come on, let me help you. Just tell me where your room is," I stammered.

"Thanks for looking after me, Emma. Would you mind coming by to pick me up before work tomorrow? I really don't want to call my driver. He'll give me another lecture about drinking too much, and I don't have the energy for that right now." He managed a tired smile.

"Of course," I responded.

We made our way to his bedroom together. As soon as we walked in, he peeled off his underwear and plopped down on the edge of the bed without a second thought. I tried my hardest not to stare, but I caught myself glancing before quickly turning away, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.

"Emma, what if nobody ever loves me again? And what if I never fall in love with anyone else?" He looked up at me, his eyes full of uncertainty.

I walked over and sat beside him, turning so I could look at him clearly.

"That won't happen, Brandon. You will find love again when you are ready, and I truly believe there's someone out there waiting for you." I smiled, hoping to reassure him.

"I hope you're right. It just feels unreal sometimes. I'm thirty-two and already going through a divorce. That wasn't what I imagined when we got married seven years ago. By now, I thought we'd have kids, a real family. Instead, I'm just here. Alone. All I have left is work, Emma." The sadness in his voice made him seem even smaller than before.

I inched closer and set my hand on his knee.

"You will have that family someday, Brandon. When you meet the right woman, everything will fall into place. Darcy wasn't that person, because if she had been, you two would still be together."

"Maybe," he muttered, giving a tired shrug before stretching out on the bed.

"Is there anything you need, Brandon?" I asked quietly.

"Will you stay?" he asked.

His question caught me off guard.

That was the last thing I ever thought he would say. He looked at me with pleading eyes, and I could see just how much he needed someone there. I should have told him no, but I could not bring myself to say it.

"Please? I just don't want to be alone tonight." His voice was soft. "There are a few things in that drawer, if you need something to sleep in," he added, glancing toward the nightstand.

"Alright," I said, giving him a gentle smile. "But where exactly am I supposed to sleep?"

He gave a small, hopeful grin and scooted to the far side of the bed, patting the empty spot next to him.

"I'll just crash on the couch," I teased, nodding at the oversized sofa by the window.

"Fine, but I'm going to remember that." He stuck out his lip in an exaggerated pout.

I let him sulk, but within minutes, he was already fast asleep. I slipped out of bed quietly, pulled the comforter over him, and gently brushed a hand across his cheek.

"You're going to be alright, Brandon," I whispered, hoping my words would be true.

I headed back to the kitchen and filled a glass with water for him. He would definitely need it when morning came. Then I searched around for a blanket and a couple of pillows to set up the sofa for myself. In one of the drawers, I found a plain t-shirt that would do for pajamas. I knew I probably would not get much sleep—staying overnight at someone else's place always left me restless. Mostly, I just hoped he would not be upset to find me there in the morning. With how much he drank tonight, there was a good chance he would not even remember asking me to stay.

Brandon's POV:

I woke up to my alarm blaring, my head pounding so hard it felt like someone had taken a hammer to my skull. I groaned, barely able to open my eyes as pain pulsed through my temples. I could not even remember how much I had drunk last night, let alone how I made it back home.

Dinner with Emma flickered through my memory, but everything after that was just a hazy blur. Emma? I really hoped she had made it home safe. I sat up in bed slowly, not wanting to push my luck or make my head feel any worse.

As I glanced around the room, I spotted a figure stretched out on the couch. My heart sank. Who the hell was that? Please tell me I didn't bring someone home and dump her on the sofa. That wasn't something I would do. I wasn't that reckless.

I eased out of bed and crept over to the couch, barely breathing as I tried to make out who was there. For a moment, everything felt uncertain. Then, as my eyes adjusted, I realized it was Emma. Please, someone tell me I didn't just spend the night with her. She was the only person who managed to keep me together, the one constant who never faded into the background. Damn it! What had I done?

I started pacing the room, forcing myself to remember anything from last night. My thoughts just tangled together, leaving me with nothing but confusion.

"Brandon? Are you alright? Why are you pacing like that?" she asked, her voice still groggy with sleep.

"Did we sleep together last night?" I blurted out, my words tumbling out in a rush. I sounded desperate and panicked. She just looked at me and started laughing, her tired smile widening as I stared at her in confusion.

"No, we didn't have sex last night. Relax, sir. You just asked me to stay, so I did," she replied, still chuckling.

I let out a long breath, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

"Well, that's a relief. One less thing to stress about. Why did you sleep on the sofa?" I asked.

"Because you told me to. You invited me to sleep in your bed, but I turned you down." She laughed, shaking her head.

"Really? I'm sorry. Did I do anything else I shouldn't have?" I asked, worried I might have crossed some line.

"Nothing at all. You're actually pretty funny when you're drunk. I have to admit it," she said, giving me a warm smile.

Relief washed over me. I was glad I hadn't done anything embarrassing.

"Thank God for that. I'm going to grab a quick shower. There's another bathroom down the hall if you want to freshen up," I muttered.

"Thank you. I need to stop by my place before we go to work, just to grab some clothes," Emma responded, stretching a little.

"Alright, that works. Do you need a box for your stuff? I know you girls actually change into clean clothes, unlike most guys," I joked, grinning at her.

"I don't do that. That's gross, but I know plenty of guys who do," Emma said, laughing and shaking her head. I pulled a couple of towels from my drawer and handed them to her. Since the bathroom was down the hall, she pulled off the covers and stood up to grab the towels. She wore one of my old t-shirts, and I had to admit she looked good in it.

I kept telling myself to stop thinking about her that way. It was wrong, and I knew it.

"Thank you," she said, her smile quick and genuine.

I gave her directions to the other bathroom before heading into my own shower. We had to move fast, since we still needed to swing by Emma's place so she could change for work.

......

We reached the office five minutes before our shift started. On the way, we stopped for breakfast—there was no way I could function without coffee.

Emma and I walked into the building side by side, and I felt the stares and heard the whispers almost right away. Everyone seemed to notice us. Some of the people watching us were friends with Darcy, and I had no doubt she would hear about this before the day was over. In a way, it might work out for the best. If I showed up at the Gala with Emma, it would look even more believable that something was going on between us.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Simmons?" Emma asked, her voice switching back to that steady, professional tone. I appreciated it, especially after last night.

"Painkillers and a bottle of water, if you don't mind," I replied, managing a weak smile.

She nodded and left to grab what I needed.

As soon as I got to my office, I spotted Darcy sitting in my chair. The sight of her there set my teeth on edge. I was certain I had told everyone she was no longer allowed in my office.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

"Don't pretend you haven't missed me, Brandon." She flashed a smile that used to undo me.

I shut my eyes for a moment and forced myself to take a few deep breaths. Even after six months apart and several weeks with no contact, I hated to admit she was right. I did miss her.

She stood up and came toward me, stopping right in front of me. She wore a little black dress that clung to her in all the ways I remembered. Her curves, her long legs, those heels—all of it caught my attention, and I felt myself tense up as I tried not to stare. I forced myself to look her in the eye.

"What do you want?" My voice was unsteady, not nearly as confident as I wanted it to be.

"I was hoping we could have a little fun, for old times' sake," she muttered, letting her finger drift slowly across my chest.

I swallowed, heat rising through me. I knew I should stop her, but she always managed to break through my defenses, and she knew it. This wasn't the first time since the breakup that she tried to pull me back in. If she were really happy with the guy she left me for, she wouldn't keep coming back to me.

"Darcy," I warned, already feeling my self-control slipping.

"Come on, baby, you know you still want me," she murmured, her hand sliding lower, leaving no doubt about what she wanted.

I let out a groan.

Darcy pressed her lips against mine, and for a second, I kissed her back, lost in old memories and old feelings. But reality snapped me out of it, hard and fast.

I refused to let myself fall back into her arms, not this time.

I pulled away from her lips and stepped back, my voice sharp.

"No, Darcy. This isn't going to happen again. I'm not here for you to use whenever you feel like it. You're the one who left, remember?"

"You love when I tease you. Admit it. The sex got even better after we split, and what he doesn't know can't hurt him." She reached for me again, but I stepped out of her reach.

"No. It's over. Besides, I'm seeing someone else now. Get out, Darcy. Don't come back. I mean it. Unless you're here to sign the divorce papers, I want nothing more to do with you," I retorted, my voice flat. For the first time, I made it clear I was done.

"What? Who? Who the hell is she? Is it that little assistant of yours? Were you screwing her even before I left you? I bet you were," she spat, her words bitter and shar

Was she actually jealous? Maybe she had finally lost her mind. She had no right to act this way, not after being the one who walked away. Still, I found myself almost amused at how angry she was getting. Part of me wanted to admit that yes, I was with Emma, but I decided she could figure it out on her own at the Gala.

"It's none of your business, Darcy. That's the answer to all your questions. Now get out of my office. Go. Now," I scoffed, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"Whatever. You'll come back to me because you still want me, Brandon," she snapped, then stormed out of my office.

As she headed for the door, Emma stepped inside. My gut twisted— I could already tell this would turn ugly fast.

"I knew it. I knew you were sleeping with my husband, you bitch," Darcy hissed at Emma.

"Excuse me? Who do you think you're talking to? Don't you dare insult me, Darcy. Whatever is happening, or not happening, between Brandon and me is none of your business. You left him, remember?" Emma retorted, her voice steady and cold.

I could not help feeling a bit surprised by her. For the first time, Emma stood her ground against Darcy, and I had to admit, it made me smile.

Back when Darcy and I were still together, Emma never stood up for herself whenever Darcy lashed out at her. Now that I was no longer with Darcy, she finally defended herself. Darcy flipped her hair, let out a loud groan, and stomped out of the office.

Emma turned to me with a questioning look.

"What was that?"

"She came here wanting to sleep with me, but I told her no. Said it wasn't happening this time. I mentioned I was seeing someone, though I never gave her any names. She just assumed it was you," I explained.

"Oh... okay. God, I can't stand that woman. I know she's still technically your wife, but she's something else, sir," Emma blurted, her tone full of irritation.

I laughed and nodded, which made her crack a smile too. She set the painkillers and water down on my desk.

"We need to get to work. There's a lot on our plates. I've got several trips coming up, so we'll need to sort everything out," I responded, shifting gears.

"Of course, sir. I'm all yours," she replied with a playful grin.

I could not help but smile when she said that, even if she did not mean it the way it sounded. She caught herself, shook her head, and laughed, then went to her desk to get started.