Chapter 87

Chapter 87


Her heart was that of a lonely hunter.

Yes and everything hurts.

Elvie had always thought she was doomed by not being able to fall in love, but once she did fall, she wished she hadn’t. Now it hurt when she breathed, when she walked the hallways at work, and each time in between, when she caught sight of the person with a sharp suit and even sharper tongue moving past her, firing orders at Bella or bantering with the rest of the newsroom staff.

A few weeks had passed. Four weeks after he’d shown up at her doorstep with flowers and chocolate, Zander had invited everyone into the conference room and announced that he’d given up his position and would only be staying for another month.

After he made that announcement, he’d shot her a look, searching her face. Whatever he found there made him ask her to stay after the meeting was over so they could talk about it.

She’d wanted to badly, but she knew nothing had changed. Though he often talked to Thea and visited her when he wasn't busy, her heart ached watching him escape from the mansion garden when she arrived. Surely he doesn't want to see her, but really?

She wasn’t going to move to London, and they couldn’t even make it work when she lived in the same city. So there was just no way they could pull it off if he lived across the country.

Besides, she still loved him more than he was capable of ever loving her back, and an unbalanced relationship was doomed.

“Sir, I have a lot of work. I’d really rather not.” Elvies’s fingers had twitched under the desk.

His bottom-of-the-iceberg blue eyes had run down her body to see her shoes. She’d worn generic black flats. She couldn’t bring herself to show him how she felt every day. It felt too intimate, now that he knew what each colour meant.

She’d also refused to unfold the little Post-it notes he’d started shoving into her desk drawer about a month after everything blew up. It wasn’t every day, but whenever she found one, her mood would turn sour.

Even so, she knew he was not seeing Kristal anymore, and that was official. Bella had reported to her excitedly one day, and after losing her beloved grandmother and Patrick in the same month, Kristal had decided to check into a New York-based rehab centre to treat her addiction to alcohol.

Almera and Gerald were obsessed with her post-Zander life. They seemed to know every single detail she wasn’t privy to—like how the man from HR who flirted had been fired and was now working as a researcher at some local newspaper nobody had heard of. Or how Zander was packing his things and getting ready to move away. Elvie couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing Zander every day, but she also knew she didn’t have it in her to be hurt by him again.

Nevertheless, today, a Friday, when he served his last day at SBC and everyone stood in line to shake his hand and thank him for what many considered a national service, Elvie did, too.

He squeezed her hand. “Elvie.”

“Si…” She started to call him sir, knowing he hated it, before sparing both of them more headache. “Zander.” She shook her head, offering him a timid smile. “Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me. It was only a fraction of what I was planning to give you, anyway,” he said dryly, but his eyes were two pools of misery. It felt like Elvie was drowning in their depths, unable to come up for air.

Why the hell did he just give up his position? He was the CEO, for fuck’s sake. What happened to him? Or was this his plan all along? Making Matheo think that he had the upper hand? Now that Zander knew that it was Matheo who masterminded his parents’ accident, Was he giving that up? Was giving up that easy without a fight?

Elvie shuffled a little to the side, making room for Bella behind me. Zander squeezed his hand harder. “Read the notes, Elvie.”

“Safe travels.” She ducked her head and went straight to the bathroom.

Bella waited for her there with two open mini bottles of Jack Daniels.

The burn of the alcohol barely touched her throat. It slid straight to her chest. Standing there, in the unsanitary women’s bathroom, made her realise what having good friends was all about. And she was darn glad she’d made a good friend in Bella.



In the end, it was a Sunday afternoon when everything changed—when she changed. She realised it really didn’t matter how Zander had treated her, because love was not a chess game. It was a twister. You got all wrapped up and stumbled over your own feet, but that was part of its charm. Right?

She had holed up in the library, as per usual. She knew Zander had been spending time with Joey and Thea every Sunday, religiously, and how it was important to both of them. Joey had Mrs. Hawthorne and her every day of the week, but he missed the buddies he’d once had at work, and Zander was his dose of testosterone. Elvie tried not to be bitter about how easily and quickly he'd forgiven Zander, but the sad truth was that even she couldn’t hate him. Not really. Not all the way. Not the way she so desperately wanted to hate the man who’d quite ironically made her realise she could love.

Patrick found her at the library. He was the one to sneak them in some candy this time. He looked perky and mischievous today, and better than he had the last few weeks when Kristal left him for New York.

He seemed like the guy she'd met the first time when he’d approached her at this very library.

“What’s with you? You look different.” Elvie stole a handful of Sour Patch Kids from his bag.

He chewed on his candy as he began to flip through the pages of The Times. “Different how?”

“Hmm…” She looked left and right, feeling uncomfortable. “Happy?”

“I am happy.” He laughed. “It’s not a foreign concept. You should try it, too.”

“Maybe it’s contagious, and I’ll catch it from you,” she mused.

But that was wishful thinking, and she knew it. She was operating on autopilot, going through the motions, when really all she could think about was the fact that Zander was probably in his mansion right now, and possibly for the last time, leaving his scent and testosterone and sexy air all over the place. Ugh.

“Actually, I’m also pretty happy because I have a lead to give you.” Patrick snapped the paper shut, his eyes zeroing in on mine. She closed her copy of The New Yorker and arched an eyebrow. He leaned across the table between them and squeezed her hand. “I think you’re going to appreciate this one.”

“Then why are you giving it to me?”

She had been here for Patrick since he’d gotten back from Thailand. She’d refused to take Zander’s side and choose between them, even though many women probably would have. But that still didn’t warrant all the help he’d given her. Elvie knew he was a freelancer, and he didn’t particularly need the money, but she was beginning to feel uncomfortable at how much she owed him in leads and sources. Part of the reason she’d become appreciated and adored in the newsroom was because he’d handed her a lot of gems that should have been his.

“This one has your name all over it,” he insisted.

“Why?” she asked.

No matter what Zander said, Patrick was a good journalist. He had friends everywhere. He was charming and approachable. Since he’d gotten back to New York, he’d spent every evening hitting the trendy Scottish bars where journalists swarmed and had made more contacts, even though he didn’t drink a drop of alcohol. He knew everyone and everything.

“Because,” Patrick said, snapping a purple Sour Patch in half between his teeth and flashing her a smirk, “it literally does have your name on it. Now, do you promise not to freak the hell out when I show you what I found?”

“You?” Her eyes widened. “You did some actual journalistic work?” She didn’t mean to be rude or anything, but she figured he didn’t need to, seeing as he was a news god.

Patrick waggled his brows. “Let’s just say I have a friend who had a friend that had some open business with the person in question, so when he overheard this hot piece of gossip, he was eager to dig up the bone at the end of that hole. It turns out the bone was meaty.”

“Okay.” Elvie’s teeth sank to her lower lip. “Tell me.”

He did.

Everything.

Then he slid a file across the table.

She shoved it in her backpack and bolted to the train station.

She had to show it to Zander.

And she knew exactly where to find him.

Or maybe I didn’t.

The mansion apartment was empty when she got to it. She climbed up to the butler's place, but he said Zander, Thea, and her brother had left a couple hours before. He asked if she wanted to come in for tea. She told him she did, but not right now, and she could see the disappointment in the butler’s face. Elvie pulled the sleeve of his shirt and hugged him on his threshold without warning. The old man yelled at the sudden gesture but eased into the hug after a second. He patted her back.

“Get him back, Elvie.”

“I will,” she promised, and she meant it, even though her mind was elsewhere—with the hot news she wanted to deliver. She then took the stairs three at a time, hitting the call button frantically. Zander’s phone went straight to voicemail. She would’ve thought the worst if she didn’t know he was with her brother and daughter.

Thea!

Oh, God, Joey!

She threw her backpack on the floor and started calling her daughter and Joey. He’d seemed okay before she left the house. He seemed okay in general. They said the tumour was shrinking, but how promising was it? It was an experimental treatment, and he was still weak. He never left the building. Ever. Now he was out with Zander, god knows where, and she was supposed to do... what, exactly? Sit around and wait for his safe return.

Damn it!

She started sending him and Zander messages simultaneously. For Joey, it was the usual: call me back/I’m worried/you should have left a note/when are you coming back. With Zander, however, she allowed herself to be more creative. Maybe it was the pent-up anger she’d harboured for the past few weeks that did it.

Elvie: Where’s my brother? And Thea?

Elvie: I’m going to kill you, Zander.

Elvie: (Not literally, in case this message finds its way to the authorities)

Elvie: I’m so worried. Please have them call me.

Elvie: Where did you take them? Why? You know he never leaves the house.

Elvie: Where is Thea?

She paced the mansion living room back and forth. She didn’t know what to do with herself, and that scared her to death. She went back to her backpack and pulled out the documents Patrick had given her, examining them with shaky hands.

Kipling slipped from her bag and spilled open, spitting out business cards and the folded Post-it notes Zander had left her like confetti. She’d taken them out of the drawer before she’d left the office Friday because they were overflowing and she didn’t have space for her own stuff.

Why didn’t she just recycle them? Why did he send them?

She’d asked herself this question a million times. Why did Zander try to reach out to her with notes? He was the most verbal person she knew, and he seemed to have a magnetic power over her every time they were together. But maybe that was it.

He didn’t want to have magnetic power over her.

He wanted them to talk.

Or just to tell her how he felt.

Now, as she waited for him or her brother and daughter to answer her, she had no choice but to try to distract herself by finding out what the notes said. She sank to the floor, her back dragging along the wall, and unfolded the first yellow note.