Anything to occupy my hands and my mind.
After my fourth round of eyeliner, I give up on typical distractions. Find the ultimate distraction in my suitcase.
Ian’s copy of The Handmaid’s Tale.
My favorite book. His notes.
My obsession.
His thoughts.
The perfect marriage of everything I want.
I start from the beginning.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Ian
The office is the same as always. So much like my office in New York. Only missing the most important element: The western coast of the Atlantic.
The same wide windows, ergonomic chairs, open spaces.
The all glass conference room. So everyone can see exactly what’s happening. So everyone can watch Laura twist the knife in my back.
No. This is a good thing. The tearing of the plaster.
It has to hurt now.
I can take it.
The office is bustling, as always. Quiet conversations, typing, the steam of the electric kettle. My brother.
“You look terrible.” He offers me a mug of tea. “Should I put a little rum in this?”
I wave it away.
“Honestly, Ian. Especially for a man who spent the last week getting laid—”
“Don’t—”
He chuckles. “You’re defensive about her.”
I nod. Of course, I’m defensive about Eve. How else would I be?
“You like her.”
“We’ve been over this.”
“I like her too.”
“You certainly talked enough.”
There’s a hint of tension in his laugh. He’s trying to hide it. To keep me from hurling the nearest object at one of these ridiculous glass walls.
I should thank him for the effort. But my mouth is sticky. My limbs are stiff.
I take the tea. English Breakfast with extra milk and honey. The way our mother drinks it.
Almost familiar enough to comfort.
“I’m sorry.” His voice stays teasing. “Was it that painful, going six hours without getting her naked?”
I almost laugh. “It was.”
“I can imagine.”
“You better not.”
“If I do?” he asks.
“I’m ready to hit someone.”
“Yes, but do you know which woman is causing this stir in your chest?”
“This is not the time, Ty.”
He nods of course not, but when is it the time? “You’re usually more restrained.”
“I’m restrained.”
He makes that hmmm noise that means like hell. “Are you ready to set up now?”
“Not yet.”
His gaze flits to his watch. A gift from me. Not the one he usually wears, the one he bought with his ex-girlfriend. “You have a few minutes.”
I have no concept of time. Has it been minutes or hours? It’s too bright in here. Too hot. Too suffocating.
“I’ll set up. Compose yourself.” He takes my tea. Motions to the loo down the hall.
It’s fair advice. I watch him move into the conference room. Watch as eyes turn to Ty.
He’s in the office most days.
Maybe this is what everyone does when there’s a meeting. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with the upcoming train wreck.
I suck a breath through my nose. Push an exhale through my teeth. It’s not enough.
I move down the hall. Into the quiet room.
Cool water fails to help.
I wash my hands three times. Dry them on a paper towel. Try to find some greater sense of calm. How do I normally do it? What do I normally think?
The last time I was this ready to burst—was when I read the offer on Eve’s site. But it was different. A primal need to protect her, hold her, claim her.
To run toward what I wanted.
Not away from a great source of pain.
Who runs toward a fire?
After another deep breath, I move into the hallway. Around the corner. All the way to the conference room.
She’s there.
All fair skin, brown eyes, dark hair. Like Snow White. Or maybe the Evil Queen who poisons Snow White.
She laughs at something Ty says. Not a full laugh. Not the no-holds-barred joy she’s capable of. That she was capable of.
I don’t know what the fuck she’s capable of now.
Her smile gets wider. Softer. More honest.
Her hand goes to her stomach. She’s not showing, but it’s obvious from her posture.
I want to be happy for her. I do.
Some part of me is.
She looks the same. Still tall and curvy. Still impossibly poised and more stylish than anyone else in the room.
Trendy red frock. Black pumps. Long hair hanging loose over her shoulders. And whatever she’s done with her jewelry and makeup—
She looks like Laura. There’s no other way to explain it.
She follows Ty’s gaze as he looks to me.
Her eyes catch mine. They fill with all sorts of things I don’t want to place. Regret. Pity. Affection. Relief.
I’m not throwing anything. Not yet.
I take a deep breath and move into the conference room.
“Ian.” She takes a step toward me. Offers her hand. “It’s good to see you.”
Ty looks at me like I’m a bomb with ten seconds on the clock. “We’re a little pushed for time. We should get started.”
“It’s fine.” I’m fine. I am over her. She has no power over me. I’m going to forgive her, wish her the best, move on.
This is it. The end of a fifteen-year saga. Not the happy ending I expected, but it’s not as if I want that any longer.