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I meet her eyes. "I don’t think I can, Jas."
Jasmine gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, you can. We'll go out, have a meal, and talk about anything other than Kyle. You don't have to face everything at once, but you can't hide forever."
Reluctantly, I agree to get dressed and join her for a meal. She gives me a supportive smile and waits patiently as I prepare myself. As I step outside, I feel a mixture of fear and gratitude. Jasmine is right – I can't stay in bed all day. With her help, I'm starting to see a glimmer of hope, even if it's just a tiny one.
Chapter 18
Kyle
The day at the office stretches on, I try to focus on the financial advisor of Anderson Corp who’s standing in front of the room, but my mind is far from focused.
I sit in a meeting with the board members, the presentation slides and discussions about the future of Anderson Corp passing in front of my eyes, but I can't seem to concentrate. My thoughts are consumed byMischief.
It’s been a week already since I left the house, to give her space just like she had asked, and she still isn’t speaking to me. She doesn’t take my calls or return any of the numerous messages that I’ve sent her.
Every attempt to reach out to her, to make her understand my feelings, has been met with rejection. It's as if a chasm has opened up between us, and I don't know how to bridge it.
Jake thinks I should still give her more time, but I’m scared that the more we both stay away from each other, the worse things will get and the less chance I will get to mend things between us.
Last night I had to leave Jake’s place and check into a hotel because he and Emily practically live together now, and those two are both heavy on the PDA. I’m happy that they’ve both finally decided to admit their feelings for each other, but right now isn’t the best time for me to be around people who want to choke me with their love for each other.
I rest my elbow on the table, tapping my fingers on my cheek as I mindlessly watch the financial advisor speak. I think he’s talking about how to get our stock prices to go up, I zone out of the meeting as I pick up my phone from the desk and start orderingMischiefanother bouquet of roses.
In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve sent her over a dozen different bouquets and apology notes, including boxes of herfavorite chocolates, designer bags, perfumes, and every other thing, I think that she likes. It’s hard to keep count because all I want is for her to forgive me and for us to get back to what we used to be.
I miss her, I miss my friend, I miss my wife. I wonder if she's okay if she's been able to sort through her own feelings.
I can't stand the idea of her being hurt or upset, especially if it's because of my actions. I want to reach out to her, to apologize, to explain, and to tell her how I truly feel, but she continues to evade me.
“Put your phone away,” my father who’s sitting beside me hisses under his breath, his nostrils flaring with anger.
I finish placing the order for the flowers and place my phone in my suit pocket, ignoring my father’s deadly stares. James who isn’t sitting too far from us, chuckles under his breath. I know exactly what the bastard is thinking, he wants my father to think that I’m not fit to run the company. And at this point, I don’t care, he can have the company for all I care.
As the meeting continues, I find myself absentmindedly tapping my pen against the table. The voices around me become a distant hum, and the decisions being made feel insignificant compared to the turmoil within me. I can't focus on the business at hand because I'm preoccupied with thoughts ofMischief.
I find myself checking my phone, hoping for a message or a call from her, but there's nothing. I long for the chance to talk, to resolve our issues, and to see if there's a way forward for us.
But for now, all I can do is carry the weight of her silence and the uncertainty of where we stand. It's a burden that's becoming harder to bear with each passing moment, and it's affecting not only my work but every aspect of my life.
“Kyle!” My father growls under his breath. I turn to look at him and he’s staring at me, his eyes conveying displeasure, and I feel a sense of disappointment emanating from him, not that I care.
I look away and realize that the board members are expecting me to address a specific issue.
My throat goes dry as I attempt to piece together the conversation, but it's as if the words are slipping through my fingers like sand. I stumble over my words, trying to sound competent and in control, but my lack of focus is evident to everyone in the room.
"Do you mind repeating your question?" I ask the financial advisor, my voice strained as I attempt to refocus my attention on the meeting.
The financial advisor a stout middle-aged man, clears his throat, He repeats his question about a crucial investment decision, and I do my best to gather my thoughts and offer a coherent response.
"I believe our best course of action," I respond to the financial advisor, "is to consider diversifying our portfolio in order to mitigate potential risks while maximizing returns. We should assess the current market conditions and explore alternative investment opportunities that align with our long-term objectives."
“That’s the same I suggested, I think that will be the best approach,” the financial advisor says, now smiling.
My father, who had been wearing an expression of disappointment, seems to acknowledge my suggestion.
As the meeting progresses, I make a conscious effort to stay focused and contribute meaningfully, and when the meeting comes to an end, I swiftly gather my belongings and make my way out of the boardroom, a staff tries to get my attention but I quickly wave him off.
Hastening my steps, I reach my office and close the door behind me, seeking a moment of solitude to collect my thoughts.
