EMMA

"You know," Alycia said, twirling her fork in her plate absentmindedly, "at this rate, you're going to end up with an ulcer."

Well, she wasn't wrong.

Ever since the fight with Eric weeks ago, my mind had been in hyper mode, overthinking every life choice I had ever made. And I felt stuck, like I was running in circles, chasing a solution that didn't seem to exist. Worse, I wasn't even sure what I was trying to achieve anymore.

Besides, Eric certainly wasn't making things any easier. He hadn't answered a single one of my calls or texts. Aly had tried stepping in as the mediator, but Eric wouldn't budge.

And without him by my side, I felt bereft. I couldn't remember a time when we didn't have each other's backs, and that thought alone terrified me.

I let out a sigh, setting my fork down. "For the first time, I feel like I'm at my wit's end, Aly. I don't know what to do, and everything just feels so... tangled."

Aly tilted her head, her gaze sharpening as she studied me. She sighed, taking a deliberate sip of her cappuccino before setting the cup down and leaning forward slightly, as if bracing herself for what she was about to say.

"Do you love him?"

The question hit me like a punch to the gut. My throat tightened, and I choked on the sip of water I had just taken, coughing as Aly sat back and arched a skeptical eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my sudden reaction.

I wiped my mouth with one hand and put the other up in defense. "Whoa. That's a big word there."

Aly smirked, her hazel eyes twinkling as she leaned back in her chair. "But you didn't deny it."

I rolled my eyes, trying to play nonchalant, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "I... like him. A lot, okay." I sighed. "And yes, I know it's wrong, insane, but I just can't seem to stop myself." The confession was out before I could stop it. "Maybe I don't even know how to anymore."

It always felt like there was some invisible string pulling me closer to Jake, no matter how hard I tried to resist.

"And at the same time, I'm terrified," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "Terrified of him finding out, of everything crashing down around us, and... of breaking his heart." My gaze dropped to my hands, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin. "Because no matter how this had started, the last thing I want is to be the reason he gets hurt."

"Em," she began, her voice soft, "I really wish I had some earth-shattering advice for you right now, but this..." She gestured vaguely with her shoulders, her fingers tightening around mine. "This is a mess above my pay grade. Even yours, if I'm being honest."

Despite myself, I let out a small, bitter laugh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Aly shrugged, her lips quirking upward slightly. "For what it's worth, though... you two look good together. Odd, sure. But good."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Oh, sure. A con artist and an FBI agent. It's a match made in heaven."

Her laugh was genuine, filling the space between us. She took another bite of her plate before setting her fork down and leaning forward. "So... Eric told me not to say anything, but I can't keep it in. Do you know what he's been busy working on these days?"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

A sly grin spread across her face. "He's got this genius project he's been putting together, and he's thinking of starting his own tech company!"

My eyes widened. A few months ago, Eric was grilling me about how we just weren't built for normal, mundane lives. And now he was thinking of settling down himself? Well, maybe that was what love did to a person.

I smiled. I was truly happy for them both, and that Eric was finally thinking of leaving the life behind once and for all.

"That's... amazing. I'm so happy for him," I finally said.

"I know," Aly agreed, her face lighting up in a way that told me how deeply she cared for him. "If anyone can pull it off, it's him."

She was right. Eric was a genius, and I couldn't wait to see him use his skills for something... well, legal.

I was about to say more when my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen and saw Jake's name lighting up with a message.

"Is that him?"

"Yeah," I admitted, tucking my phone away. "There's a gallery opening tonight, and I invited him as my plus-one." I glanced at my watch, then back at her, feeling a pang of guilt. "I should probably go—I still need to shower and get ready."

Aly nodded, then she stood, grabbing her jacket. "Just... be careful, Emma."

I offered her a small smile, but the words felt heavy in my throat, so I said nothing and just hugged her goodbye.

I then walked to my car and sat in the driver's seat, drumming my fingers on the wheel without starting the engine. Finally, I let out a sigh and pulled out my phone, sending Eric a quick text. I heard the news. I'm so happy for you, Eric.

It stung that he hadn't told me himself, and I doubted I would even receive a reply. But no matter how strained things were between us, I wanted him to know that I was going to support him. Always.

With a deep breath, I started the ignition and headed home, hoping that tonight with Jake would offer a reprieve. Even if only for a little while.

***

With a simple, figure-hugging black dress and a swipe of lipstick, I was ready for the night. And when the doorbell rang, a smile spread across my face.

I crossed the room in a few quick steps, opening the door to find Jake standing there. My smile grew wider as I took him in. He was dressed in a perfectly fitting gray suit, his hair was neatly styled, and his jade-green eyes still managed to steal my breath.

"You look gorgeous," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips.

"You don't look bad yourself," I teased, though my heart was still doing a little flip from the way he was looking at me.

He chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Ready?"

I nodded, grabbing my purse, and then we stepped out together.

The car ride was filled with light, easy conversation about art and our shared excitement for the evening. I let myself relax, savoring the simple joy of being with him.

The city lights blurred outside the window, adding a dreamlike quality to the moment, and I felt content as if everything was exactly as it should be.

That was, until Jake's phone buzzed, shattering the peaceful bubble we had been wrapped in. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly, and answered.

"Hey, what's up?" Jake answered, and I caught the way his jaw tightened as he listened.

"Can't that wait for tomorrow?"

The answer was clearly no. I watched as his eyes briefly closed in frustration and a sigh escaped his lips.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

"Everything okay?" I asked when he hung up.

He turned to me with an almost apologetic look. "Something came up at the office," he said. "We just got crucial intel from a stakeout, and I need to file a warrant for an important op."

He hesitated for a moment, his green eyes softening as they met mine. "Would you mind if we made a quick stop? I promise it won't take long."

A quick stop? At the FBI building?

My brain stuttered for a moment, and my pulse hammered in my ears. Yet, I forced myself to respond quickly, knowing any hesitation would come across as suspicious.

"No, it's fine," I said, forcing on a smile that I hoped looked convincing. "We still have plenty of time before the opening."

It wasn't fine. It was a disaster. My chest felt tight, and I feared my heart might just give out from how fast it was pounding.

Jake's smile was warm and grateful as he took the next U-turn toward Federal Plaza.

"I promise we'll be quick," he said, reaching over to squeeze my hand briefly before focusing back on the road.

I offered him another small smile before turning to look out the window, trying to mask the icy dread gripping my heart.

And before I knew it, we were there. The Federal Building loomed in front of us, cold and imposing.

I held my breath as the car descended into the underground garage. Security cameras dotted every corner, their lenses surveilling the area like watchful eyes. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, measured, as if even the walls could see right through me.

Every instinct screamed at me to grab Jake's arm, to tell him to turn around—but I stayed still, gripping my purse like it was the only thing keeping me in place.

Jake parked in a reserved spot near the entrance, his movements casual and fluid—like he'd done this a thousand times before. Because, of course, he probably had.

He reached for his badge from the console and turned to me with an easy smile. It was warm, reassuring even, but it did nothing to loosen the knot tightening in my chest. As he opened his door, I stopped him.

"Hey, maybe I could just wait for you here," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could manage.

Jake paused, giving me a look that was equal parts amused and confused. "I'd feel bad leaving you here. Besides, Luke's up there, and he'd be happy to see you."

I knew I shouldn't argue any further, so I forced another smile his way and reluctantly reached for the door, my heels clicking against the polished concrete as I stepped out.

Jake motioned for me to follow. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before falling in step beside him.

His badge made everything seamless—no questions, no delays. But it didn't stop the knot of dread twisting tighter in my stomach as we passed through security and stepped into the elevator.

After all, this was a place I never imagined myself stepping into—at least not like this anyway. And certainly not on the arm of the man I was supposed to be running from.

After what felt like forever, the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to the white-collar unit's floor. I followed Jake to the bullpen. It was half-empty, and I assumed that most agents must have gone home for the weekend, leaving behind only those working on the operation Jake mentioned.

I stayed close to Jake, following him like a lost puppy. He stopped at his desk, gesturing to the visitor's chair beside it.

"You can wait for me here," he said, offering my hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be real quick, I promise."

I nodded, watching as he strode off to another agent's desk. His movements were confident and effortless. It was clear this place wasn't just where he worked—it was who he was.

With a sigh, I sank into the chair, my eyes scanning my surroundings. A sharp scent of stale coffee hung in the air. Phones rang sporadically, agents typed furiously at their keyboards, and low voices murmured back and forth, blending with the soft rustle of papers. Occasionally, a muted laugh broke through, but it felt distant as if it didn't quite belong.

Well, just like me. I felt as if I were a glitch in that system, an intruder in a place I had no business being.

Suddenly, I became aware that my legs were bouncing restlessly. I forced them to still and let my gaze drift to Jake's desk, desperate for a distraction.

It was neat, as I expected, but it had little glimpses of him everywhere. Near the edge sat a worn baseball. I smiled faintly, remembering how Jake once mentioned playing with his father all the time when he was a kid. Maybe this was the ball—a keepsake from simpler days.

Beside it, a framed photo showed a younger Jake, his smile bright and unguarded, surrounded by his family on graduation day. Next to the computer sat an FBI mug, its logo faded and the bottom chipped, as if it had been slammed onto the desk one too many times during long nights or frustrating cases.

And then, there was a huge stack of case files. Thick with secrets. My fingers twitched with the urge to reach for them, but I knew better. Even a glance could land me in trouble I couldn't talk my way out of.

And yet, something caught my eye.

A newspaper clipping peeked out from one of the files, its edges yellowed and frayed, probably from being handled many times. Before I could second-guess myself, my hand moved on its own, pulling the article free.

My heart sank.

It wasn't just any article. It was the article. The one I had hoped was buried and forgotten by now.

The headline screamed at me—Art Heist at the Met: Master Thieves Escape FBI Clutches.

The paper trembled in my hands, every word dragging me back to that night. To the rooftop. To Jake, so close to catching me.

"I see you've found Jake's obsession."

I jumped slightly, turning around to find Luke standing right behind me. I mentally chastised myself for not hearing him approach.

I quickly stood and gave him a brief hug, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling gnawing at me.

"Oh, this," I said, glancing down at the article still crumpled slightly in my grip. "I was just curious. I've heard a lot about this case."

Luke sighed, leaning against Jake's desk, arms crossed. "Yeah. It was one hell of a case. Jake doesn't talk about it much anymore, but I know it's always there, lingering in the back of his mind."

Was. That word allowed a little bit of hope to creep into me.

"There are things that happened," Luke continued, his gaze distant for a moment, "that Jake still blames himself for."

My stomach tightened. Was he talking about Declan?

"It's taken a toll on him," Luke said. But he then shook his head and sent me a small smile. "But he's been doing better lately. And honestly, I think you're to thank for that."

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I couldn't reply because I honestly had no idea what to say. Hell, Luke, you just don't know that I'm the reason for all of it.

A wave of guilt washed over me, yet I managed a weak smile and set the article back on the desk, smoothing it down with fingers I fought to keep steady.

"So... how's Chloe?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Like a switch had been flipped, Luke's entire demeanor brightened. His eyes softened and a genuine smile spread across his face. "She's great. We had the best time in Belize. Sun, ocean, and both of our phones turned off. It was heaven."

I kept the conversation flowing—smiling, laughing, asking questions—but my mind was miles away.

And just as we were comparing notes on Belize, Jake returned with a file in hand. He dropped it onto the desk with a sigh, offering me a lopsided smile.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, gesturing vaguely around the bullpen. "All this federal charm. Romantic, right?"

I let out a small laugh despite everything. "Oh, absolutely. This is exactly how I pictured my Friday night."

Jake chuckled, running a hand through his hair before settling on the chair behind his desk. "I said I'd be quick. But what can I say? Paperwork's a relentless beast."

His easy smile made me relax—just a little—but the knot in my chest stayed firmly in place. I nodded, returning his smile. "It's fine, really. At least I get to see Agent Parker in his natural habitat. You seem at home here... it suits you." And it terrified me.

Luke leaned closer, smirking. "You have no idea about this 'natural habitat' thing. It gets out of hand sometimes." He pointed at the article still sitting on Jake's desk. "I was just telling your girlfriend here how much you love keeping old news clippings."

Jake rolled his eyes, tucking the article back into one of the files on his desk. "She knows about this case. Besides, it's just a reminder."

My smile faltered slightly, and I could feel the chill creeping up my spine. "A reminder of what?"

Jake's gaze lingered on me for a moment—long enough for my breath to catch—before he shrugged lightly. "That some things are worth chasing, no matter how long it takes."

I didn't know if I managed to control my reaction, but neither of them seemed to notice the way my fingers clenched around the strap of my purse or how I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.

I knew, deep down, that Jake was never going to let it go. But hearing him say it out loud made its weight feel so much heavier.

"Hey, Em. You okay?"

Jake's voice pulled me back to the present. I blinked, plastering on a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... zoned out for a second."

"Ready to go?"

"Oh yeah." I stood up and turned to Luke, forcing another smile. "It was nice seeing you, Luke. Please tell Chloe I said hi."

As we walked out of the building, Jake's hand rested lightly on the small of my back, guiding me toward the car. He was talking as we walked, something about traffic and how we still had time to make it to the gallery, but his words slipped past me, like water through cupped hands.

As if on cue, the con artist mask slid into place with practiced ease. A smile here, a light laugh there, a perfectly timed glance in his direction. It was second nature, a performance so ingrained in me that it felt like breathing.

Even at the gallery, I kept playing my part flawlessly. I smiled, laughed, admired the art, and clinked glasses with strangers. And nobody noticed that I was falling apart—not even Jake.

Oh, Jake.

Every time I looked at him, I couldn't stop the thought from creeping in—what if we had met in another life, in another world? One where we were just a boy and a girl, falling in love.

Would it have worked?

I would never know. But what I did know was that, in this world, in this reality, we were on borrowed time.

And as I stood there, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed at someone's joke, I couldn't help but curse fate. Curse the universe. Curse whatever cruel force had brought us together—only to leave us standing on opposite sides of a bridge neither of us could cross.