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He darkens his phone screen.
“I mean, yeah, you messed up, but it’s not like you actually went through with anything,” I say, referring to his story about how he almost cheated on her. “Does she know how sorry you are?”
I try to put myself in her shoes. While I’m sure she could have just about any man she wanted, she must have loved Burke enough to spend three whole years with him. I can’t imagine that kind of love just evaporates into thin air.
“I doubt she cares,” he says. “I’ve already apologized a hundred times.”
“Talk is cheap. If she saw what I’ve seen . . . I wonder if she’d change her mind?”
We step up to the counter, and the pharmacist greets Burke with a friendly smile and some small talk about Redmond. It’s strange seeing my boss—a man who makes interns shake behind their cubicles—in such a normal, everyday exchange.
He pays for Maeve’s card before I can protest, lumping it in with the six bottles of prescription meds we’re picking up.
I continue our conversation on the sidewalk outside. “Maybe you should reach out to her again. You clearly still love her. She should know.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asks, though I think he’s only humoring me.
“I would want to know . . . if it were me.”
Not to mention, seeing a powerful man with his tail between his legs is a rare sight.
It’s a shame she’s not around to witness it.
He says nothing, only trudges ahead like a man on a mission, though I’ve no idea where we’re headed. We pass a trinket shop, a blow-dry bar, and a chowder bistro before I break the silence again.
“Don’t let your pride steal your happiness,” I say.
Burke shoots me a look. “This isn’t about pride.”
“What’s it about, then?”
His lips press flat as he contemplates his response. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s not like it’ll change anything. I messed up. She moved on.”
“Was she the One?”
He exhales. “And only.”
“Then suck it up and do what you have to do to get her back.”
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” His tone is snippier than it’s been all week. Without warning, he stops in his tracks and turns to me. “She has me blocked . . . my number, my email, everything. I had to make a fake Instagram account just to see her pictures. It’s pathetic.” Dragging his hands through his neatly combed hair, he says, “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
“No, this is good,” I say. “Get it out.”
“She wants nothing to do with me. Ever again. I have to respect that.”
He’s not wrong.
But still, I can’t help but wonder if she’d feel differently about this whole thing if she knew what was going on behind the scenes. Any sensible woman would. And from what he’s told me about her, she sounds like she has a good head on her shoulders.
“You want a coffee or anything?” He points toward a little café straight ahead. “Head’s pounding. Could use some caffeine.”
“I’m okay.” I take a seat on an empty bench. “I’ll just wait here.”
He disappears inside, where the line is at least ten people long, and I take a second to catch up on texts and emails now that I have a stronger signal.
But halfway through my mission, I take a detour to Instagram, pulling up Audrina’s profile. Her most recent photo was posted yesterday—a candid shot of her strolling along a gray city sidewalk, Buckingham Palace in the background. Her effervescent smile is contagious even from the other side of a phone screen, even from another corner of the world.
I bite my lip and start composing a message to a woman who’ll probably never see it anyway.
Audrina—you don’t know me, but I’m engaged to your ex . . . Burke Rothwell. I think he’s still in love with you, and I don’t want him to make a terrible mistake by marrying the wrong woman. I realize how insane this sounds, and I wouldn’t blame you if you deleted this and wrote me off. But if you’re available to talk, I’d love a minute of your time. You can reach me at 555-272-7719.—Briar
It’s a shot in the dark, and even if she calls, I’ll likely not have service, but it’s worth a try.
I’m a sucker for a happy ending, even if it’s someone else’s.
Besides, if Burke gets Audrina back, maybe he’ll let me out of my NDA.
And maybe—just maybe—Dorian won’t hate me anymore once I tell him I’m still waiting for him . . . and that I never stopped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DORIAN
Present Day
“You’ve been hard to pin down lately.” Nicola slides a bookmark into her hardback and places it beside her on the poolside lounger. “Every time I try to get a minute alone with you, you disappear.”
I yank my earbuds out and pause the music I was listening to—some demo tracks the band has been working on for their upcoming sophomore album. With their debut being such a hit, the pressure is on, and judging by this new shit, they’re bringing their A game like never before, but half of these songs sound like they’re trying too hard.
