I got another lead last night on this Robert guy and I'm hoping today I'll be able to track him down. Hopefully I will find where my missing money is going.

I had to leave early this morning, which means I missed Emma leaving for her internship. I know I will see her tonight, but I just really hate that I missed seeing her on such an important morning.

I follow the GPS, the drive taking forever. I'm a few cities over from where I've been staying with Emma, but I'm hopeful that this will all be worth it.

After several hours of driving and a lot of stops and starts, I finally find the building where the GPS is telling me I need to go. The building is nondescript, a bland concrete facade, and the only sign of life is a single light shining through the glass front door. It's on a busy street, similar buildings flanking it.

Parking is easy enough, and after locking up, I approach the building.

As soon as I step through the door, a blast of cool air greets me. It's a welcome respite from the heat outside. I take a moment to survey the lobby. It's clean and tidy, with a few chairs and a coffee table. There are no signs of life, though.

I walk up to the reception desk and ring the bell. After a few moments, a man comes out. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt. His hair is long, tied back in a ponytail. He has a friendly smile, but his eyes are guarded.

"Can I help you?" he asks, leaning slightly on the counter, his demeanor open yet cautious.

"Yes, I'm looking for someone who might work here. Goes by the name of Robert. Do you know him?" I keep my tone neutral, not wanting to give away too much.

The man's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of recognition—or is it suspicion?—crossing his face. "Robert, huh? We've got a few Roberts around. You got a last name?"

"Williams."

"And what is your business with Mr. Williams?"

"I just need to talk to him," I say, keeping my tone even. "It's important."

The man studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine. He's trying to decide if I'm telling the truth.

"And do you have a name?"

"Tell him it's Bradshaw."

"Hold on, let me call him," the man says, turning away from the counter. He picks up the phone and dials a number.

I wait, my heart pounding. I'm not sure what this Robert guy will do when I find him, but I hope he has the answers I need.

After a few minutes, the man returns, his expression neutral. "Mr. Williams would like to speak to you," he says, handing me the phone.

I take the phone and raise it to my ear.

"Hello?"

A pause.

"Hello?" I say again, not sure if he's still on the other line.

The line crackles before a voice finally speaks. "Who is this?"

"I already told your," I turn looking at the guy with the ponytail, "secretary, who I am. Is this Robert Williams?"

"Bradshaw?" he questions.

"Yes, Bradshaw. Ares Bradshaw," I repeat getting tired of this nonsense already. What is this guy's deal?

A quick inhale of breath is all I hear before the line goes dead.

"Fuck!" I slam the phone down.

The atmosphere crackles with tension as I fix my gaze on the guy behind the counter, his raised eyebrow doing little to mask the unease flickering in his eyes. "Call him back!" I demand, my voice a controlled explosion in the too-quiet room. The man's reluctance to comply sends a surge of frustration through me, an unwelcome challenge to my authority.

"Listen, man, I don't know what's going on here, but that dude doesn't want to talk to you."

"I don't give a shit! Call him back, now!"

"I'm not calling him back. You can wait all day if you want, but I'm not doing it," he says, folding his arms across his chest.

My patience, already hanging by a thread, snaps. With a swift movement, I yank him closer by his shirt, my stare icy, voice dripping with a venomous promise. "Listen here, asshole. I'm not asking. Call him back, or you'll regret it."

The guy swallows hard, his eyes wide. He nods slowly, and I release him.

He takes a few steps back, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay. I'll call him back," he says, his tone defeated.

He picks up the phone and dials the number, his hand shaking slightly.

I listen as the phone rings, the tension mounting. The guy just shakes his head. "It went to voicemail. He must have turned off his phone," he says, his eyes darting between me and the phone.

"Give me his number. I'll call him," I growl, the anger rising.

The guy shakes his head, his eyes wide. "I can't give you his number. It's against the rules," he says, his tone apologetic.

I'm so angry I could strangle this guy, but I know that won't get me anywhere.

"Fine, give him my number when you talk to him again," I say as I grab a pen up off the counter.

I scribble my name and number down on a piece of paper.

"Here," I shove the paper at him. "Tell him to call me. I need to talk to him."

The guy looks down at the paper and nods.

"Yeah, okay," he says, his tone skeptical.

"Just do it," I growl, my patience waning.

I storm out of the office, slamming the door behind me. I'm beyond pissed. This is the closest I've gotten to finding this Robert guy, and he won't even talk to me. What a fucking joke.

I climb into my car and sit for a moment, my anger simmering. This guy is really getting under my skin, and I don't like it. He may have hung up on me, but I think he also may have just given me my biggest clue yet.

***

On the drive back home, I can't think of anything but Emma. I know I should be focusing on my work, but I'm stressed. I need Emma, I need her calming presence, I need to be inside of her, losing myself in her.

I could tell last night at dinner that she wasn't herself. Her mother's comments about her love life and marriage are getting to her. She completely changes when her mother is around. I can feel her pulling away already and I'm afraid of her pulling away completely.

She's been hesitant about us from the get-go, worried about what people will say. The age thing, the step-uncle label—it's a lot. But after spending last week alone, just the two of us, everything's changed. For me, at least. I'm tumbling headfirst, might already be in love. And now, with her pulling back, I'm caught in this limbo, dangling over what feels like an abyss. It's the not knowing that's the killer, wondering if she feels this pull too, or if I'm just fooling myself.

I'm stuck in this weird space, trying to figure out how to keep us moving forward without pushing her too far, too fast. It's like walking a tightrope without a net. I get it, the whole situation is unconventional. Scary, even. But isn't that what makes it worth the risk?

Every time she smiles, every time she laughs, I'm reminded of why I'm willing to face those fears head on. I just wish I knew if she felt the same way. If she saw us as something real, something that could last despite the odds.

I guess, at the end of the day, all I can do is be there for her. Show her that, no matter what, I'm in this. That I believe in us enough for the both of us, at least until she's ready to believe it too. But man, the waiting game? It's brutal. Every moment without knowing where she stands feels like an eternity.

Yet, here I am, driving back, and all I want is to find a way to make her see. To make her feel as deeply as I do, to understand that this—us—it's worth taking a leap for.

Then there's the ticking clock hanging over us—I'm here for work, a temporary stay before I head back to the West Coast, to what I've always called home. But now, the concept of home feels hollow if Emma's not in it. She's made it clear she's not up for moving or long-distance, and staying here isn't in the cards for me. This realization adds another layer of complexity to my already tangled feelings. How do we navigate this? Can we find a middle ground, or am I just dreaming of a future that's as fleeting as my time here? The thought of leaving without her, of mornings without her smile and nights without her by my side, it's like a weight I can't shake off.

I'm caught in this push and pull, trying to savor every moment with Emma while knowing that each day brings me closer to leaving. It's a silent countdown, one that fills me with a sense of urgency to make every second count. Yet, I find myself grappling with a tough question: Is it fair to hold on to her, to us, when our futures seem to be on diverging paths? The thought of a life without her feels unbearable, but the reality of our situation—a relationship strained by distance and differing commitments—casts a long shadow over the dream I've been clinging to. It's a crossroads I never anticipated, a choice between chasing my career on one coast and leaving my heart on another.