Needing a drink, I decide to head back to that little pub. I try to tell myself it has nothing to do with how close it is to Scarlett’s office, but as long as I’m in the area…
Chapter Thirteen
Scarlett
The first week after the Anderson event passed in a blur. The first few days, I was so shook from what happened, I barely registered that Piers was not showing up to the office. As the week came to a close, my concern switched to confusion. Why is he avoiding me?
Two Weeks. Still no Piers. No reply that the Anderson deal is done. I know this must have something to do with Willow. Please let him call.
Another week passes in an endless blur, days filled with going to work, coming home, eating, having a drink…and then crawling into bed, bone tired from doing absolutely nothing while my mind worked overtime. All the while, Piers is away, working from the Everlend estate and communicating with the office only by email.
Nearly three weeks now since I’ve heard from or seen Piers. The emotional whiplash I’m putting myself through has me feeling a new emotion: anger. This is really quite ridiculous!
By lunchtime on Wednesday, I’ve already completed all the work I possibly can. I’ve been carrying the slack while Piers is away playing house with his precious Willow. He hasn’t made it in all this week, nor the last two. I’ve been here, finalizing all the gala details, making calls, running the office and having lunch with Mr. Anderson to sign some additional documents that still require Piers’ signature. Thankfully, Alan was otherwise occupied that particular day. I don’t know that I could have held my shrimp salad and bruschetta down if I had to sit across from that wanker. A chill runs down my spine in memory of his hands on me.
Piers still doesn’t know about what happened. He never will. I don’t want it to be the reason he comes running. In the past, it would have worked. I might have even planned it that way, but I’m trying not to be that person—the one who lived in the shadows, the fuzzy grey area, making up the rules as I went, bending what little light I had and using it to forge little white lies.
Turning in my chair, I lean back and study a black and white painting on my wall. No grey, only the sharp contrast of black strokes, the ebony paint shadowing angles and lines on a snowy white canvas, carving out a woman’s profile. I strive to live in these shades now, even if I still color outside the lines.
I stare at the picture, as if seeing it for the first time, realizing what it portrays behind the visual. Letting out all the air out of my lungs, I slink down deeper into my seat. It’s nearly impossible to focus with the midweek buzz just beyond my door, though I know it’s really because he still hasn’t been to the office. I am used to being alone, but this alone is a new level, even for me.
It’s really quite frustrating, being forgotten, left behind. It’s like I’m eight years old all over again, begging for attention.
I can’t help but wonder why Piers is pushing me away. I get that he doesn’t want me and Willow to be besties, let alone in the same room, I just don’t understand why he’s letting it effect his work. The thought of going home to an empty flat again is depressing. It’s as if this fog is finally lifting and I realize how pathetic I’ve been, sulking about these last weeks.
Deciding to do something about it, I ring Teddy to see if he would like to meet for drinks and dinner this evening.
“Hello?” he answers after several rings.
“Hello, Professor Stone. What’s the meaning of life?” I tease my old friend.
“Scarlett, how are you?” he seems distracted. I’m certain I’ve caught him at work in the middle of something. I can just imagine him sitting at his massive antique desk, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose, the way he does when he’s nervous or stressed.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Your voice says otherwise, love.”
“You always were the smart one. But, really, I was calling to see if you want to grab a bite to eat tonight?”
“Oh, I wish I could, but I’m finalizing some things for a special seminar I’ll be teaching later in the summer,” he explains.
“You work too hard,” I scold him. “You can’t even break for a pint?” I worry about him.
“Says the woman who invented eighty-hour work weeks,” Teddy retorts. “Tell me, how have you been? How was the Anderson retreat? I’m sorry I haven’t rang. I’ve been a bit lost…in some research.”
I was hoping he was going to say he went on holiday or met someone who was keeping him away. But Professor Theodore Stone didn’t get his distinguished credentials at such a young age by faffing about. I do worry about how much time he spends with his books, but they’ve always been his escape. We all had our thing growing up, and the written word was Teddy’s version of a secret garden.
“It was a bit eventful, but the deal is done,” I tell him.
“What did you do?” His voice is laced with concern.
“Why do you always assume I’ve done something?” I mock scoff at him.
“Scarlett,” he warns, and I don’t want to waste anymore of his time, so I tell him the truth.
“It was fine. The deal was done and everything was just as we planned, but then Anderson’s son came on to me, and I tried to avoid his advances, but he got a little rough and another one of the male guests came to my rescue. All is well now.” I try not to remember it all as I recant what happened.
“What do you mean roughed you up!” he exclaims. “Does Piers know?”
“Teddy, really I’m fine.” And I am.Now.
“Scarlett? Are you going to tell him?” His question hangs heavy in the air.
“No, and you won’t breathe a word of it to him either. You hear me?” I end it. “She’s back, and it’s all he cares about. If he wanted to defend my honor, he’s about two and a half weeks late,” I huff out, massaging my neck with my hand.
“Fine, but what the bloody hell happened?” I hear the clink of ice and suddenly feel bad for bringing it up. Teddy only has the occasional pint, but the heavy stuff means he’s at his wits end.
“This is why I wanted to have dinner and drinks, to go over all this in person. I didn’t mean to add to your stress.” And it’s the truth falling from my lips once more. I don’t want to push away what’s probably my last remaining friend.
“I’m sorry,” he offers.
“It’s fine. I know you’re really busy. Look, we can just talk about it later.” I shouldn’t have said anything.
“No, now,” he demands.
And I spill it all. The gory details, the come on, the brush off, the party, Alan, the attack. Once my mouth opens, it comes flooding out. It feels good to tell someone. To say it aloud. To have support. I think part of the reason I’ve been walking in a fog is because the weight of the trauma combined with everything was just too much. Telling Teddy was the right choice.
“Christ, Scarlett!” His voiced is laced with panic. “I’m so sorry.”
It helps having someone else know, even after the fact. Even though Cohen was there, it was like he was a part of the fog with me. A shadow, a dark knight. That moment with him was like having a dream after a nightmare. The two scenes clash in my mind. How I could have went from one to the other is beyond me. But his hands healed with their touch.
I leave out those details, but the professor is observant, even over the phone.
“And what of this mystery man?” he questions, playing the role of overprotective big brother.
“Nothing. I never saw him before that night and never heard from him again,” I reassure him. “I’m fine, really. I didn’t mean to worry you. But you can’t tell Piers. I can’t handle anymore awkwardness between us. This thing with him is…I just don’t know.”
He remains silent now, always wanting to remain neutral when it comes to us. “Scarlett, I don’t know what to say.”
“I know. You don’t need to say anything, Teddy. Thanks for listening,” I whisper, trying not to get overly emotional. “
What’s done is done. I just don’t know why he keeps pushing me away.”
“You know I’m always here for you, right? I wish you would have rang sooner, told me. I would have came. I’m not much of a knight, but I’m here.” And I know he would be in a heartbeat. He packs a lot of muscle under all that tweed. Years of being bullied motivated him to bulk up.
“I know,” I tell him. “Thanks, Teddy Bear.”
“Will you ever call me Theo?” he chuckles.
“Nope.” I can’t help the little giggle that slips out.
“Didn’t think so.” He sighs across the line. “Take care, lady.”
“I will. Bye. Don’t forget to eat!” I order before he disconnects the call.
After hanging up, I decide to stick around and drown myself in more work to keep the memories, both good and bad at bay. Even memories of tall, dark knights who rescue women who didn’t think they needed rescued.
I’ll focus, kick some arse, and then maybe take a long weekend. Feeling a weight lifted, I decide I may even go out tonight. No more pouting, no more feeling sorry for myself.I’m done.
#####
After losing track of time while pouring over the seating chart for the Mid Summer’s Night Gala, my stomach grumbles like thunder, reminding me that I haven’t had lunch since my assistant brought me a Greek salad earlier. I’m positively starved. Patting my midsection to calm the roar, I check my watch to find it’s nearly quarter to six. So much for wrapping up and heading out early. Just as I’m closing up my computer for the evening, my mobile rings. Piers? Seeing an unfamiliar name flash across the screen catches me off guard. I fumble to grab it and crack my elbow on my desk. Shit! That hurt!
“Hello,” I breathlessly answer.
“Sorry, mate. Wrong number,” a gruff voice replies. Oh.
I just can’t understand why he keeps pushing me away. I’m just really not in the mood for going out now, I decide to go with an old favorite, a place I used to frequent quite a bit just because of its character and close proximity to work. Ordering the fish and chips and a pint sounds like just what I need.
Taking a moment, I go to the toilet, run a comb through my hair, and apply fresh gloss to my lips before grabbing my things and heading out for the night. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go to Kensington or do some shopping. I haven’t been to Harrods in a while and that’s one of my favorite things to do. Oh! I need to check on my dress. That reminds me, the masks came for the gala. And I need to let Piers know another donor has been added as a platinum sponsor.
Screw it. I’m calling him. The gala is less than a week away, He has to talk to me sometime. Walking out to get in the lift, I ring him. He picks up right away. Finally!
“Piers here,” he answers, and it sounds like he’s driving.
“Piers? Are you finally taking my calls?” I can’t help the sarcasm that escapes my mouth.
“Did the reworked documents come in on that deal yet?” He skips the greeting, sounding very formal and professional. Seriously?
“Yeah. They are on your desk. So, are you coming into the office this week?” I ask, trying to play it cool, but failing miserably.
“I’ll be in the rest of the week. We had the Barrington meeting today and I’m headed to pick up Drew now,” he blurts out.
“How’d it go?” My voice raises an octave in anticipation. Now Willow will know about the stipulations.And that he lied.
“Really well.” He does vague like an expert.
“So well she paid no attention to the stipulations?” I press.
“There were no issues,” he replies flatly.
“So, you didn’t tell her? Do you really think that’s smart, Piers?” I ask, even though I know he won’t like it.
“Scarlett, this doesn’t really concern you,” he bites back, sighing heavily.
“Why are you avoiding me anyway? You never said,” I whisper, almost afraid of what he’ll say. It could be a million and one things honestly, but it’s just the one thing, I’m sure. Willow. She’s always been the only thing that could come between us. And now Drew, the son no one knew he had.
“I don’t have time for this now, okay? We will talk later. Email those other reports and send the final guest list for the gala so I can review it one last time. I promised Drew we would take the cat to get supplies.”
“You have a cat? Wow! Piers Nichols, family man extraordinaire!” I can’t help but laugh, imagining Piers with a cat. He hates cats.
“Watch it, Scarlett. Sarcasm is not becoming on you,” he warns. “And yes, Drew has a cat. Since he’s my son, in turn, it would seem I now have a cat.”
Wow, sensitive much? I shut my mouth.
“Is that all you need then?” His impatience comes across loud and clear.
“Almost. About the gala...you still have your mask at the office. Don’t forget to grab it.” He doesn’t reply right away, which is troubling. My stomach drops as I prepare for news I’m sure I’m not going to like.
“I told you I was planning to take Willow to the gala. I asked her, and she said yes. I thought we talked about this?” His voice is at least apologetic.
I don’t recall that conversation at all. I mean, he’s barely spoken to me. Anger and sadness fight their way to the surface.
“No, actually, you didn’t. You have barely spoken to me in the last two weeks.” Two weeks!
He remains silent. That says plenty. Obviously, his world didn’t stop for two weeks the way mine did. His just resumed spinning after being stopped for five years, waiting on her.
“Look, Piers, it’s fine. I get it. I really do. She’s the mother of your child. You’re making her feel welcome.” I can’t help but sigh dramatically. “I’ll ask Teddy. I’m sure he wasn’t planning on bringing a date anyway. Win-win. Seriously, don’t worry. You’re doing it to be nice because you have to so she doesn’t bolt again.” I hate myself as the anger laced words fall from my lips.
“I’m not taking her to be nice. What the hell is your problem?” he growls out.
“Of course not. Whatever, Piers. Just grab your mask.”
“Forget the mask. I think we’ve all done enough hiding, wouldn’t you agree?” he snaps, his remark hitting to close to home, but I’m not the only one with secrets. Don’t push me, Piers.
“Don’t be dramatic. It’s the theme. You’re the host. You have to wear a mask,” I remind him, and he knows I’m right.
“I’ll call Harrods and have another sent over for Willow,” I offer. “See? That’s me, playing nice. But I need to know what her dress looks like.”
“I’ll find out and get back to you. I’m here to get Drew, so I really need to go,” he dismisses me.
“I take it you told him then? He knows you’re his dad?” I try to hide the quiver in my voice. He has a son. A child. A family.
“I guess that’s a yes. You didn’t think you could call me?” I whisper, and it’s like a thousand daggers to the heart. He couldn’t tell me. He must think I’m so terrible, so selfish, I couldn’t possibly share his joy.
“Scarlett, I—” he stops himself.
“What’s going on with you, Piers?” I try to understand. I need to understand.
“I don’t know.” He lets out a breath. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I mumble my goodbye, afraid for him to hear the pain in my voice. Pain caused by him—the one I thought I loved who would never feel the same. This has to stop. I definitely need a drink now.
I had already decided to stop feeling sorry for myself, now I need less talking and more action.
I realize I’ve been on autopilot walking from the office and already reached my destination. Shaking off the day, I open the door, ready for a drink to wash the day away.
The bell jingles as I step into one of my favorite places: The Ship’s Wheel. A local watering hole in the business district, it’s always packed with regulars and sometimes the occasional tourist. The familiar scent of fried food and lager instantly washes over me. I search for an empt
y table when I get that familiar prickling on the back of my neck. Turning, I scan the back row of booths. My eyes land on a familiar pair of icy baby blues. Cohen. I can’t help but smile.
He returns the smile, not looking the least bit shocked. It’s odd that he would be eating at my favorite place. Before my better judgment gets a hold of me, I find myself walking to his table.
“Are you following me?” I accuse him, my hand resting on my hip.
“It would seem I was here first.” He does that sexy half smile thing he does with his lip as he gestures to his half-eaten burger.
“So it would seem,” I reply, pretending to be annoyed when I’m actually quite delighted at the turn of events. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from smiling. This is just what I need. Some casual conversation, banter even…food and drink.
“Would you care to join me?” he offers, locking his eyes with mine before dragging his gaze slowly down my body and back up again. It makes me glad I’ve put a little effort into my wardrobe today. Nude wedges paired with a simple navy linen shift dress and gold bangles.
My skin flushes under his stare, and I remind myself he’s seen me in much worse shape. My I woke-up-like-this look, my luau look, my just-been-mauled look, and my post-bath-fresh-jammies look. But I feel like when he looks at me, he sees me. He’s not imagining what’s underneath. I think it’s why I’m so flattered by his eyes on me. My lids grow heavy as I recall his hands on me.
“I hate to impose,” I reply, getting a hold of myself and trying not be so intoxicated by his close proximity and that ruggedly handsome face.
“It wouldn’t be imposing since you were invited.” He gestures for me to have a seat.
“Thank you.” I slide into the booth, smoothing my hair back over my shoulder, feeling a bit nervous. I can’t see what he’s wearing on the bottom, but he’s filling out that fitted charcoal dress shirt like it was custom tailored just for him. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing strong, tan forearms—arms that held me tight. His dark hair is haphazardly sticking up and back as if he’s been tugging at it, and it appears he has a bit more stubble than when I saw him at the retreat. I can’t help but think what it might feel like on my delicate skin.
Never Say Never (Written in the Stars Book 2) Page 11
