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That’s my fault. After the guilt nearly tore me apart, Lachlan decided to treat me with kid gloves when discussing what we are. I understand—I probably needed it. But now that we are it for each other I don’t know if I want to take it day-by-day. I want to know that Lachlan is committed. And more importantly, I want him to know that I am as well.
We have plans to see each other later tonight at my place. Both of us have news to share with each other.
I know Lachlan is confident in his decision, but I can’t help but wonder how Father Greg took his resignation. Lachlan’s only remaining duties to the Church will be to wrap up outstanding religious components that I really know nothing about, the gala, and to move out of his home.
Tonight, we need to focus on our future, on us. Since reuniting… if that's even the right word for our week apart, I’ve wanted to tell him I love him. These past few months with Lachlan have been the best of my life since my parents passed away.
When I’m with him, I feel it every way and everywhere. Lachlan has seeped his way into every part of my being, and I don’t plan to ever let him go.
I love the fall season in Charleston. It’s not like up in the northern part of the United States where it’s completely different colored leaves and chilly temperatures, but it’s a feeling of calmness everywhere.
The tourists have mostly gone, and its locals bustling about in their days. The weather fluctuates between a crisp morning to a cool sunny afternoon, and the leaves are slowly changing and falling from the trees. It’s the best time of year to visit the area.
In a navy-blue cashmere sweater and fitted jeans, it feels like I’m in my own movie where the days are perfectly strung together. This new version of life isn’t going to be one I take for granted.
On my walk, I spot that one of my favorite boutiques has changed its window display. Now featuring fall trends, I can’t help but admire the plaid skirts I’m seeing the mannequins in. I have time before Lachlan comes over, what’s the harm in popping in? When I return home, I’ll just be doing more planning of my career. I can take a few easy moments for me.
Going to open the boutique door, I’m almost trampled by two people coming out of the doors side by side. I’m stunned as I look up to find the one person I never want to run into.
Kevin.
At least his expression shows that he’s not stalking or harassing me—he’s equally as shocked to see me.
Someone says “ahem” in the middle of our stare-down. I turn to see my new favorite tart, Lemon.
“Kevin,” I say curtly.
I gesture to the door frame to imply I need to get through. Anything to keep this from happening.
“Lemon, I’ll see you back at the office,” he replies, not taking his eyes away from me.
“But Kev—,” she starts.
Clearly flustered, she pulls herself together before continuing.
“Mr. Matheson, we really both should be going for your two-o’clock call.”
“I’ll see you there, Lemon. Go.”
Lemon takes off in a huff down the street. Kevin stalks a few steps toward me, bringing me slightly away from the entrance door and more onto the sidewalk.
I let out a loud sigh in frustration.
“Kevin, I think we both know it’s not a good idea for us to be speaking to each other without our attorneys present. And to be frank, I have nothing to say to you, or Lemon for that matter. You should have gone with her.”
I’m not giving in here. Not now, not ever, with him.
I knew one day I would face him alone outside of a courtroom or with someone like Missy, and we would either cause a scene or he would try to dive into our divorce. We haven’t ever really addressed his cheating and my leaving.
What would be the point?
I wasn’t forgiving him, and now too much time has passed. I’m no longer angry, but I’m done. I don’t want to drag this around any longer. I don’t even care about his clearly illegal businesses. I know, I know. I should care, but I just can’t. My only concern is that my name is not linked to anything, and I don’t get in trouble with the law.
Actually, fuck him for that. Maybe I am still pissed off for that part. I’ve let the rug fucking go.
“Avery, you never gave me a chance to explain,” Kevin starts.
I know what he’s doing. This tone and gesture are year-one Kevin. The one filled with charisma that lets his sex appeal shine through. I will not be falling for it.
