AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I should be doing the same thing. This is a power lunch, after all, but I can't make myself listen to my companions.
I could say the level of noise of the extremely crowded restaurant is the reason for my distraction, but if I did, I would be lying.
There's only one thing on my mind. The same thing that's been there since the very first moment in that museum and for over a month now. Carina.
Simply thinking about her name is enough to make me feel like I've been sucker-punched in the guts, and if I try to say it out loud, my throat won't work.
I would know. I’ve tried.
It feels like it’s lodged there, cutting my breath, but I can’t let it escape my lips.
I've done as I promised. I've kept myself away from her after that morning in her apartment.
I could not simply let go, though. I had to make sure she was okay, and I did.
I had my security check on her, even if I knew she had her own.
I know she’s in Manchester, staying with a friend of hers, and I know she's sad and wan and going through the motions, but she is safe and I know that at least she's physically okay.
It’s not much, but it has to be enough.
I see myself standing up, leaving the restaurant without a word, jumping behind the wheel of my Aston and driving to the airport, flying over the ocean and then over England. I see myself roaming the streets of Manchester, getting closer and closer to her. Never stopping, always forging on until I have my love in my arms again.
I see it so clearly in my head that it almost looks like I really did it.
I dreamed of it, too.
It would be so easy but so wrong.
I can't do this to her. She needs to know she is free. There's safety in freedom, and I know it's important to her. Still, it hurts so much I can barely see straight.
I've tried to shake it off, but it never works. I keep on telling myself that I'm perfectly able to function without Carina by my side 'cause, after all, I managed just fine for thirty-four years, but I can't bring myself to believe it.
I don’t even remember what life was like before her.
“Son? Are you alright?”
I look up from my plate, drop the fork I wasn't even aware I was holding suspended over it and stare into eyes as gray as my own. "Sure, Dad. I was just thinking it would be best to review the documentation one more time. I know it is far-fetched that the competition would get that court order, but still… one can never be too cautious."
My dad smiles at me, nodding, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I know I can't fool him. He and my stepmom have been hounding me since the breakup to try and understand whatever the fuck is going on with me. They don't even know about her, for now, at least.
Maxwell rubs his mouth pensively. "Well, you have a point there, Derek. What do you say, Rog?"
Fuck, I do?
Good to know since I don’t have the slightest idea where we’re at right now.
Mr. Fillion puts down his half-empty glass of neat scotch with a small thud, muffled by the thick white tablecloth; he turns sideways to look at me and claps me on the shoulder. "You do what you think is best, Derek. After all, you're your father's son, so I trust you. You know that."
I smile at that, but only because I’m probably supposed to. “Thank you, Mr. Fillion. I appreciate it and—”
I hear a throat clearing behind me, and I turn around to see who's got the balls to come over and interrupt us.
Oh, for fuck's sake!
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!
Jonathan Fucking Withmore!
