Chapter 24
Fiona
“Where did you choose?” I ask Isla as she pulls away from my driveway. After the call with my dad, I’d gone home to sleep off my sadness, but not before Isla demanded that we go out for dinner tonight.
I still feel the heavy weight of disappointment and sadness hanging over me at what my father had done, but being with Isla will help. She’s my biggest supporter and always knows how to make me feel better.
I’m not fully in the mood to be out all night, but I can’t sit at home and wallow in depression. That would only make things worse.
“Ristorante La Bella. My treat,” she says with a grin. I didn’t expect her to choose such a fancy restaurant, and I briefly wonder if my jeans and nice top will be nice enough. “I’ve been wanting to eat here for forever. Everyone says it’s amazing.”
“I heard that too,” I mumble, watching as we pass building after building.
Isla jams to her music as we drive, letting me take the time to think to myself, and soon, we’re pulling into the parking lot.
“Seems to be full tonight,” I say, taking in all the cars. It is Saturday night, so it’s no surprise.
No, the surprise comes when we’re seated, and I hear a familiar nasally voice from the booth behind us.
“You should have seen her crying to her Dad about her mother’s will,” Jessica says. Isla’s eyes widen, and when she moves to get up, I hold a finger up to my mouth. “She keeps begging him to help her, but he won’t do it. He doesn’t want her to get the inheritance either.”
“Oh, my gosh. Really?” Another familiar voice asks.
Isla’s eyebrows pull together in confusion, and I mouth “Angela.” I’d told Isla how Angela had treated me at work, and she was livid.
“Oh yes. She’s pathetic,” Jessica tells Angela. “She can’t do anything for herself, so she’s hanging all over Ethan and expecting him to help her get her mother’s money back. She won’t be able to do it, though…”
“Why not?” Angela asks.
“She doesn’t know where the original will document is.”
I lean in, hoping she’ll give away the information I need. Clenching my hands together, I barely notice Isla wave our waitress off.
“Where is it?” Angela asks the same question that’s been stuck in my mind for ages.
“No clue, but at least she can’t get it. If she does, she might win the case, and after everything she put me through, I want to watch her suffer,” Jessica says with a sniff. I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth.
Shrill laughter fills their booth just before Angela speaks up, “She is pathetic, isn’t she. Barely a week at work, and I already had her cornered and scared of me. Give me another week, and she’ll be running for the hills.”
Isla gawks, her mouth dropping open at this information. I hadn’t told her yet.
“She thinks the world revolves around her, and god, you should see the way she whined and cried when her mom died,” Jessica laughs. “I thought I was going to barf with how weak she was. Then the bitch decided to go and ruin my life.”
“Don’t worry, Jessica. She’ll pay for hurting you and stealing your man. She doesn’t deserve Ethan or any kindness you’ve given her. She deserves so much payback, and I’ll have fun watching her squirm,” Angela says.
“That’s it,” Isla growls, standing up.
“Let’s just go somewhere else,” I tell her, grabbing her hand and pulling her along before she can do something that’ll get both of us banned from this restaurant. I could tell she is moments away from attacking, so we leave and make our way to a different restaurant.
The conversation definitely affected my mood, but I try not to let it show as we hang out. I’m sure Isla notices, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it, which I appreciate. I try to keep the conversation going, but when she asks about how things are going with Ethan, my stomach flips.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I mumble, shoving another forkful of pasta in my mouth. She doesn’t push, which again, I appreciate.
Eventually, we make our way home, and I promise her that next time, I’ll be better company.
After she leaves, I finally fall into bed and let the tears fall.
“Good morning, Fiona,” Ryan greets as I walk into the building. Just like last week, Ethan picked me up and drove me to work, dropping me off before we got there so I could walk. Only, the comfortable silence from last week was tense.
I didn’t sleep well after the run in with Jessica and Angela, and then when I saw him, I was reminded of how he left me in bed.
He tried to ask me how my weekend was, making small talk again, but I’d just closed my eyes and leaned my head on the glass. I didn’t have the energy to deal with his bipolar attitude, so I just ignored him.
Space.
Distance.
I need to keep my distance.
Making my way into the elevator, I ignore the glares I get from the two women already there and wait until the elevator takes me up to the sweet silence that is the top floor.
However, what I find at my desk is not the clean, organized desk I left Friday afternoon. Dark brown liquid pools across my desk, staining the papers there and dripping onto the floor. Pens are scattered across the floor and files are strewn across the ground.
What the hell?
Dropping my purse, I rush to get paper towels from the bathroom. Many of the papers on my desk were reports I was waiting to give to Ethan, and those files… I’d just finished organizing them on Friday morning, and now they’re all over the place.
As quickly as I can, I wipe up the coffee and run the towels over the papers. I’m not quick enough, though, because Ethan steps off the elevator moments later and pauses. His green eyes narrow on me and the mess, and I nearly die right there.
“I-it’s not what—”
“What happened?” He asks, surprising me. I was sure he was going to immediately assume I’d done this.
“Someone spilled coffee all over my desk and it got all over your reports… I didn’t see who did it, and I don’t know how long it’s been like this, but… I…”
Ethan steps forward, taking the messy handful of wet, coffee-stained paper towels from my hand.
“It’s alright, Fiona. I left the coffee on your desk before I took a file to Ryan. Someone must have knocked it over,” Ethan says, tossing the paper towels into the trash.
“Y-you…”
“You looked tired this morning.”
I was.
I am.
“What do we do about the files and reports?” I ask, looking at the mess.
“I’ll have the departments send the reports again while the custodian cleans your desk. Then we can reorganize the files,” he tells me, nudging me over until I take a seat. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Nodding, I take a deep breath, glad that he’s in a good mood this morning.
