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“It’s fine.”
She gives a single nod and hurries out of the restaurant, taking my happiness with her.
I should have argued. Should have told her I love her and that we belong together and that I have never been happier in my life than when I was with her.
All the shoulds in the world don’t change a thing, though.
Lily is gone.
35
Cormac
I hate my office. No, that’s not true. I love it, from the Italian leather desk chair to the mahogany desk to the view of the ocean. But in the past few days, it’s felt more like a prison than an office. My own personal Elba.
A perfectly nice place to be exiled to.
That’s what this breakup has felt like. As they forced Napoleon to abdicate his role, so was I forced to give up. I had no choice in any of it. Not really. Abigail decided to keep Lily from the kids. Lily decided to take the job in Manhattan. And I…can’t stop either of them.
When did my life get so far out of my control? Oh right. When I had kids.
So, my office has become my new sanctuary. Just like during my divorce. Perhaps I shouldn’t think of it that way, but it’s impossible not to. When I go home, it’s so hard to think of anything but Lily’s absence. Especially when Abigail has the kids. Because then, I am truly alone.
But at the office, I have Linda. She buzzes the intercom. “Beau is here for you. Should I send him away or—
“Hey!” he objects.
Her voice is muffled, like she put her hand on the speaker. “You are a distraction and you know it, young man. Keep your hey to yourself.”
I snicker. “It’s alright, Linda. Send him in.”
Beau opens the door and teases, “You know I like a woman who can keep me in line, Linda. Keep flirting, and I’ll have to take you home with me.”
“Like you could handle me.”
He closes the door behind himself and sits in my guest chair. “I need a Linda on my staff.”
“There is only one Linda, and she is mine until retirement.”
“Selfish.”
I sit back and notice the haggard look in his eyes. “What’s up, Beau?”
“We have a problem.”
“I assumed that. You don’t show up here for chitchat.”
“I could,” he says defensively. Then he gives up with a shrug. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“Stop stalling and tell—
“The architect is out.”
“What?”
He huffs. “At least, that’s the rumor.”
Beau, for all his flaws, was not one to be sucked in by a conjecture. For him to be this worried, it confirms my suspicions. He’s spiraling. I have to remind him who he is and what he’s capable of, or it will get worse. I give him my most reassuring smile. “You’re going to be upset by a mere rumor? Since when? That’s not the Beau I know.”
