Page 69 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

“Then have your own accident,” I said with a casual shrug. “Break a leg. Cry a little. Guilt-trip him yourself. You don’t need me as a middleman for your relationship problems.”

She stared at me, utterly speechless.

My eyes scanned the room and landed on Felicity as she made her entrance.

Perfect.

“What is wrong with—” Cassandra started again.

“Lovely chat,” I cut her off, my tone flat and final. I turned and walked toward Felicity, leaving Cassandra standing there, silenced and seething.

“You’re late,” I said as I reached her.

“Mr. Fitzherbert was throwing a fit,” Felicity explained, rolling her eyes. I snagged another one of those mocktails from a passing server and handed it to her. “Here. You need to try this.” I glanced around the crowded room. “Where’s Naija? I thought you two were coming together.”

She took a sip, her eyes widening in approval. “She said she had to talk to the caterer. Apparently, her cousin is in charge of it.”

We both looked toward a corner of the room where Naija was deep in conversation with a man whose back was to us.

“She really does have a very large family, doesn’t she?” I remarked.

Turning back to Felicity, I asked, “Can you ask her to get the recipe for this?”

“Of course.” She took another sip, her expression turning serious. “Are the papers ready?”

I gave a single, sharp nod. “My lawyer sent them over yesterday.”

“So,” she pressed, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “When are you doing it?”

I checked my watch. “As soon as we leave.”

She took a slow sip, her gaze sweeping the room before it stopped, lingering on a point across the crowd. “Are you absolutely sure about this?” she asked, her voice softening. “You don’t want to wait, to give it a little more time? I mean… you did fall in love with him once. You married him for a reason.” She gestured subtly with her head.

I followed her line of sight and found Cassian. He was still deep in conversation with Mr. Garcia, yet his eyes, as ever, were darting toward me every few seconds. A silent watchman.

I turned back to Felicity. “And look where that got me,” I said, my voice flat and final.

She held my gaze for a moment, then offered a resigned shrug. “Fair enough. So, you’re leaving now?”

“Yeah,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Better to just get this over with.”

After a quick, final goodbye to Felicity, I turned and began making my way through the crowd, cutting a direct path toward Cassian.

Mr. Garcia was in the middle of explaining the intricacies of cultivating a specific hybrid rose when I reached them.

“Mr. Garcia,” I said, smoothly interrupting. He paused and looked at me. Beside him, Cassian’s eyes lit up with pure, unadulterated gratitude. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid we have to leave.” I glanced at Cassian, who gave me a small, triumphant smile.

Mr. Garcia fished out a business card and pressed it into Cassian’s hand. “So we can finish our discussion.” He then turned his warm gaze to me. “You’ve got a good one here, you know.”

I offered a thin, non-committal smile and said nothing. We made our farewells to the Garcias and moved toward the exit.

As we walked through the lobby, Cassian leaned in, his voice a low, hopeful whisper. “I knew you wouldn’t let me suffer for too long.”

I stifled a groan. “Just bring the car around.”

He gave a mock salute, a genuine, unguarded lightness in his expression. “Yes, ma’am.” He then jogged off toward the parking lot to get the car.

The whole ride back, he hummed a cheerful, off-key tune. I turned the radio on, loud enough to drown him out.