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“Thank you, Dr. Edwards. I’m sure the pleasure won’t be all mine.”
And with that, I walked out, accompanied by the swarm of butterflies which formed in my stomach, making it impossible to hide the huge grin on my face.
LEX
Present
I’m trying to make sense of what had happened with Charlotte.
As soon as I mentioned heading back to London, our lighthearted conversation had suddenly turned sour. Her demeanor changed, her lie about being busy barely believable. She no longer wanted to speak to me, and I don’t know why. She rushed out so fast I had no time to ask her what the hell I did wrong.
The flight back to London feels like the longest five hours of my life. The last few days have been a whirlwind, and everything I’ve become suddenly means nothing. People used to tell me that time heals all wounds, but what the fuck do they know about me? I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can barely breathe. I left her, again. It’s only for two weeks, but time doesn’t matter.
I run my fingers through my hair trying to get a grip on things. Fuck, someone tell me how to make everything right with her.
After a quick trip by taxi from the airport, it’s six in the morning when I arrive at the office intending to prepare for an important meeting we have scheduled today. Seeing as it’s so early here in London I second guess myself, but I decide I’ll text her anyway, apologizing for my sudden departure, anxious to stay in her good graces and not let what happened at the café create this unwarranted distance between us.
Me: I’m sorry I had to leave for London. Can I make it up to you with more brownies? I think next time you’ll remember how much you like them.
Knowing the time difference, I don’t expect a response straight away, and willing my overanxious mind to calm down, I check our share prices trying to distract myself.
Just before nine, I walk to the boardroom and set myself up at the head of the table. People file in, and knowing how anal I am about punctuality, we start on time and dive straight into acquisition mode with the head of our operations team taking the wheel.
Somewhere during a graph on projections of the Asian market, my phone lights up on the table.
Charlotte: The brownies were great, fantastic just as I remembered them. My problem is that I hadn’t had them for a while and suddenly they were on my plate. While not eating said brownies, I found that there are other desserts I enjoy as well.
My lips pull back, baring my teeth as my pulse elevates. My fingers wrap around my phone with a tight grip to control my need to throw it across the room. What fucking game is she playing? With a tight expression, I stare blankly at the screen unable to process the numbers.
This is not at all like me. For all I know, I could’ve signed away the rights to Lexed. My attention isn’t where it needs to be, and barely able to control myself, I terminate the meeting, commanding my executive team to report back to me later.
Kate rises from her chair, watching me with a concerned expression. “Mr. Edwards, is everything okay?”
I know Kate is sincere with her concerns for me, but what the fuck am I supposed to say? My ex-girlfriend who I still have feelings for thinks her current beau is better than me, and it makes my blood boil to think they are fucking? I can’t imagine anything more juvenile.
“Just a few things I need to take care of.”
Back inside my office, Kate knows better than to follow me and push for anything. My office is my sanctuary, off-limits to anyone unless I permit them to enter.
Sitting at my desk, I run my hands along the woodgrain, admiring the neatly organized space. The control freak within me uses the quiet time to calm the fuck down. With my computer screen on, emails flood my inbox, but I couldn’t care less. I scroll through, different day, same old bullshit. I turn away, swiveling my chair to face the window.
I know nothing about her.
Well, not nothing exactly.
She’s a lawyer, and then there’s the information that Bryce has given me, but I still know nothing about her personal life. I tap my pen on my desk, frustrated I’m getting nowhere. Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. Maybe I need to scour social media.
Opening up a Facebook page, I manage to guide myself through the platform. I don’t have an account because I don’t have time to talk to people from ten fucking years ago, despite my mother and Adriana begging for me to activate one.
There are ten Charlotte Masons, none matching her. I try Charlie Mason, same result. Fuck. Okay, what if I look for Eric? I type Eric Kennedy, and twenty-five results come up. I scroll through the profiles immediately spotting his face. The profile picture is of him on some beach doing that annoying duck-face thing while holding the phone up in the air, obviously taking a self-portrait. I click on his friends’ list, which thankfully isn’t private. I figure, if Charlotte is on here, she’d have to be friends with Eric.
Scrolling through the names, I stop at a Charlie Brown. I click on the photograph of a bird, a phoenix, I think, but the page is private. I scroll further in case there’s anyone else. Nothing.
Back to Eric’s profile page, I stumble across his latest status update, saying he’s going to watch a movie and tags Charlie Brown. As I open up the comments, the muscles on my neck begin to tighten, veins straining against my skin as the heat begins to rise from my accelerated breathing.
It’s her all right.
She commented about going to see the movie with a companion and about sitting in the back, and all I read are lewd comments from Eric and someone named Rocky about blow jobs.
