The royal We, as if she were speaking for Caroline and all of Archer.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “They’re the best florist in Manhattan, and our brides love the charm of using a shop that grows its own flowers.”
“Bower Bouquets is the best florist in Manhattan. No one had even heard of Longbourne until a few months ago.”
My lips flattened. “Bower is a big-box corporation without the charm of Longbourne. Just today, Madison Wendemere requested a tour of Longbourne’s greenhouses, and if you don’t think she’ll tell her friends, you’ve never exchanged words with her.”
Addison regarded me for a moment. “Just be sure, Lila. It’s your ass.” She turned her attention to her laptop, opening it before beginning to type, effectively dismissing me.
I stood and left without a goodbye, sliding into my seat and opening my own laptop to file away her threat and work through my notifications. Emails first, then my calendar. I went through my following day, making a mental checklist of everything I’d need to get done to match the expanded calendar, adding the Hilton menu to my next visit to Skylight.
Busy, busy, busy I kept myself, surprised when I realized the sky was on fire with dusk.
Swearing to myself, I closed my laptop and packed up my things. It was far enough beyond our normal hours that I owed Addison no explanation, and she didn’t ask, just watched me with those jackal eyes as I left the office.
And almost ran straight into Caroline.
She laughed, an easy sound, and grabbed my arms to stop us both from falling.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, heart pounding, though I smiled in response to her laughter. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s all right. I was actually coming to find you. I just received a call from Iris Berkshire.”
I stepped back, stiffening for the blow.
But she kept smiling. “Don’t look so worried. She called to apologize for Johanna’s behavior last week and mentioned that she’d received a partial refund for the flowers. When she called Longbourne, they said you’d told them of the mistake, so they took care of it. Well done, Lila.”
Relief and pride brought a flush of heat to my cheeks. “Thank you, Caroline.”
“No, it’s me who should be thanking you. We knew Johanna was going to be difficult the second she walked in, and she lived up to her reputation. You handled it beautifully. Keep up the good work,” she said before cupping my elbow and breezing toward her office.
I floated to the elevator, though I felt Addison’s eyes on my back. She’d seen the whole exchange, and like a petty bitch, I hoped it ate her alive not to know what had been said. When I turned in the elevator to face the doors, our gazes snagged for the briefest of moments before getting cut by the closing metal. It was a win—a small one but a win nonetheless. And I needed a win.
Because my next task would be utter bullshit. I only hoped Brock wouldn’t be home when I completed it.
The very last thing I wanted was to go to his apartment. I’d much rather head straight to Perry’s and grab a slice of pizza on my way to my sister’s. I’d lose myself in her life, in her and Dean’s easy conversation, in their company. It was so much easier to be alone if I wasn’t actually alone. But before I was awarded pizza and distractions, I needed to pack a bag. I wanted my own shampoo and my own makeup. I needed clothes and shoes and my book, which was sitting on his coffee table. Funny, how I’d already divorced myself from that place, from my relationship. But finding him in flagrante as I had was the snapping of a cord, immediate and unsalvageable.
Nerves rose with every block the cab rolled through. I should have left earlier to guarantee he wouldn’t be home, and I hoped he had a late night at work. Or maybe he and Natasha were out. Maybe she was there.
God, I hoped she wasn’t there. Though I might have nearly murdered them in the conservatory with a candlestick, I hadn’t said a word. Today, I wouldn’t keep my mouth shut. And the last thing I needed was a complaint from a Felix Femme to Caroline.
The doorman let me in with the tip of his hat and a look that said he knew something. I didn’t have the courage to ask if Brock was home or if she was there, didn’t want him to pity me. I’d find out soon enough. The elevator beeped slower than I ever remembered, filling the metal box with its countdown. And when the doors finally opened, down that hall I went. Emotion swept over me, fresh as it had been when I’d last been in this place. My busyness was a facade, thin and temporary over the truth.
I was not okay. And this was not okay.
My keys rattled in my hand, slick as I unlocked the door and opened it, my eyes clicking to the wall where he’d fucked her last night, catching on the nick in the sheetrock from my outburst. The empty space was thick with ghosts. The apartment was quiet.
I sighed my relief and closed the door.
“Lila?”
His voice, tired and worn, from the dark living room. A shock, cold and sharp, down my spine.
“Of course it’s me,” I said, my acerbic tone shellac over my pain. “Who else would it be? I didn’t figure you’d given Natasha Felix a key, but you’re just full of surprises these days, aren’t you?”
The shadows shifted as he stood and turned on the light. I didn’t wait to hear him out. Instead, I marched toward the bedroom to do what I’d come to do. There was no backing down, nor was there any running away.
“Let me explain.”
“Explain what?” I asked dryly, flipping on the light before opening the closet.
He stopped inside the door, sliding his hands into his pockets, leaning on the doorframe. I didn’t chance a look at his expression. My periphery was enough.
I thunked the suitcase on the bed and turned for my dresser.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quietly.
A bitter, severe laugh shot out of me. “That’s what you’re going with?” I loaded an armful of panties, bras, and chemises and dumped them unceremoniously in the gaping suitcase.
Ignoring the jab, he continued, “We met at the engagement party—”
“I know when you met, asshole. I introduced you.” To the closet I whipped, trying to calculate outfits and shoes with the tiny percentage of my brain that wasn’t consumed with Brock the Cock and his excuses. I gnawed my lip so hard, I could feel the throb of blood at the point of contact.
“She’s just … she’s different, Lila. I’ve never met anyone like her before. Natasha is unpredictable when everything in my life seems planned out until I die.”
It was then that I finally turned to him, a painfully slow twist. Our gazes met. He didn’t look sorry, but he wasn’t happy either. There was no regret, but there was no defense.
“Like me,” I finished his thought.
“You and I are comfortable, easy. On paper, it makes sense. But that’s been my whole life. My parents had my application to Columbia filled out when I was in diapers, and I went along with it. I’ve done everything expected of me. I made them happy, but I won’t become them. Sleeping in separate rooms, never speaking beyond what’s required of them. Cold and loveless. I need more. I need passion.”
Fury. It was fury, unbridled and wild, lashed through me sharp enough to draw blood. “No,” I said on a shaky breath.