Chapter 101

Fiona

With each ring of the phone, the jumble of nerves in my stomach gets more and more tangled. I glance at Mr. Adair as he waits with me for the car I called, but what really ties my stomach up is that Isla isn’t answering the phone. I wanted her to be the first person I told about my divorce and—

“Hey, girl!”

“Isla! I’m officially free of Jack!” The words burst from my lips as soon as I hear her voice, and she then squeals.

Her loud excitement makes me smile and draws Mr. Adair’s attention. His brows raise at me but then his eyes move to something behind me. He nods and I realize it’s my car. With a wave and a mouthed ‘thank you’, I climb into the car and rattle off Isla’s address.

“We should definitely celebrate,” Isla comments as I buckle up. “There’s a new club downtown that opened a few months ago, or we could bar hop.”

“Or we could eat ice cream and watch movies,” I throw in. I’m not sure if clubbing or bar hopping is really my scene, but apparently, it’s what I need if Isla’s scoff and laughter are anything to go by.

“Fiona, you just divorced a selfish bastard, so I’m not letting you sit at home with a tub of ice cream,” Isla announces, then she continues, “Wait, are you on your way home now?”

“I am. I’m probably only ten minutes away,” I tell her with a glance out the window. The driver nods in confirmation.

A loud clang comes from Isla’s end of the phone, and I pull the phone from my ear.

“What are you doing?” I ask when more clanging comes through the phone.

“I’m making you a cake! It’ll be part of our celebration,” she says, and I can practically hear the grin in her voice which, in turn, makes me smile again.

“You don’t have to do that, Isla, but thank you,” I murmur, feeling the familiar sting behind my eyes. With all the loss of family and loved ones, having a supportive friend like Isla in my life gives me a sense of peace I sorely need. She’s exactly what and who I need at my side.

Other than Ethan.

I shake the thoughts from my head. Ethan isn’t mine, especially now. I can’t continue to think about him if I’m going to move on, so maybe a night out is just what I need.

I rub at my temples, trying to chase away the pounding ache that throbs behind my eyes. Along with our cake and ice cream, Isla brought out some wine last night, and I indulged a bit too much.

It helped get my mind off Ethan, at least until I fell asleep and had dreams about him all night. Even after waking up twice, I couldn’t get rid of him. Dream after dream, he found me and kept me close, whispered sweet words, touched me, kissed me.

It was everything I wanted but also everything I couldn’t have.

The ache in my heart grew more and was nearly a physical pain by the time I woke up, and honestly, it matched the headache currently battering against my poor skull.

“And my father said he would pay whatever is needed for the ceremony. He wants everything to be perfect and is willing to hold it on our pack land as well,” a cheeky, female voice says. I pause and look to the left, finding exactly what I was afraid of.

Angela stands near the reception desk with her arm woven through Ethan’s arm, hanging on him as she talks. Her hand runs up his forearm to his bicep, and I watch with disgust as she squeezes his arm and bats her eyelashes up at him.

Ethan looks down at her, and to save myself from further pain, I spin on my heel and rush for the elevator that takes me to my office. Once I’m safely inside, I take a much-needed breath and count the floors as the elevator goes up, letting the monotony of the numbers calm me down.

I don’t know how much time I’ll get to myself once I get to my desk, so I grab my to-do list from yesterday and today. More than half of the list requires me to be away from my desk. The other half requires me to stay here, which means I’ll have to find a way to ignore Ethan if he tries to talk to me, and if our previous interactions are anything to go by, I’m sure he will.

Sighing, I sit down and rub at my temples again. I would’ve called out today, but since I missed yesterday, I didn’t want to lose another day of work. I may be leaving soon, but that doesn’t mean I want to risk being seen as a slacker while I’m here.

I dig through my drawer and find the bottle of medicine I keep there. Just as I pour out two pills, a voice asks, “Are you okay, Fiona?”

Startled, I jump and whip my head up. The sudden movement makes me groan as pain bounces around my skull.

“I’m fine,” I mutter to Ethan before lowering my eyes to let him know I don’t want to talk. I don’t think I could talk to him even if he wanted to. What would I say?

Everything that needs to be said from my end has already come out. I don’t know what else to say, so silence is the best option.

Popping the pills in my mouth, I turn and focus on my computer monitor, getting to work. Emails, research, digital filing; each task I’m given requires focus, so after ignoring Ethan long enough, he walks away. I have to force my eyes not to follow him, so I respond to a particularly long email from a young man asking for an interview for a college paper.

Once I finish replying to him that I’ll set the interview up for next week, I cross off my last in-office task. Before Ethan can come out to stop me, I gather the files on my desk and rush to the elevator. I glance over my shoulder to see him watching me, but as soon as the ding sounds, I jump into the elevator.

My heart stutters in my chest, skipping a beat when our eyes connect again. Does he have something to say?

No.

He would’ve used the hours I was just working in silence to talk to me, wouldn’t he?

But, as we watch each other, I can’t help but feel like there’s something he wants to say. There are things I want to say, but I can’t. I have to protect myself because no one else is.

Sighing, I step off the elevator on the next floor and make my rounds, delivering files to the recipients needed. Smiles and gratitude greet me warmly, and several people even ask if I need any help.

“You’ve been working so hard,” one woman says with a bright smile. “And you’re doing so well.”

“So much better than that last assistant,” a man whispers somewhere behind me. A bit of guilt turns my stomach when I hear her. They all like how hard I’ve been working without knowing I probably won’t be here much longer. However, their compliments also bring forth a sense of pride.

When I started this job, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it, but now, there are people who think I’m better than someone who was here for years.

“Oh, yes, and so professional,” someone else replies to him.

I offer my best smile as I pass an important file to the main receptionist.

“Mr. Jones will be here at three to pick this up. Please make sure he gets it and signs for it,” I tell her. She accepts the file and tells me she’ll keep it safe until he arrives.

With a quick thank you, I make my way back to my desk, relieved that I’m almost finished with work for the day. Just two more hours, and I can go home. Two hours of sitting outside of Ethan’s office with nothing to do unless someone emails or calls.

When I sit behind my monitor, I duck down a bit to where I can’t see Ethan and pull up a new tab on my browser. Since I have nothing else to do, I begin searching for jobs similar to my position at Silverclaw. I’ll also need to update my resume before I begin officially applying anywhere.

A few receptionist and assistant jobs pop up, so I write down the company names and details so I can go back when I get home. I peak over the top of my monitor, but Ethan isn’t looking my way. I’ll have to contact the companies later, when Ethan isn’t nearly fifteen feet away from me.

After writing down five jobs, I peer over at Ethan again, but he’s still not paying me any attention. The nerves grow again as I get to nearly ten job openings written down and where they are.

The next time I look at Ethan, he’s staring straight at me and I have to force myself not to jump in surprise. I quickly close out the job search tab and shove the list into my pocket.

Can he tell what I’ve been looking at?

Does he know somehow?

Shaking a bit, I gather my meager belongings and scurry away just as the clock hits five o’clock.