THE CONFIRMATION

THE CONFIRMATION


Adam's Pov

I notice her hair first.

Daphne's hair is pin straight as usual, the severe platinum blonde strands almost glowing on her head. I wonder what her real hair colour is and why she dyes it. But I can't ask, because then she'll know that I know.

She walks slowly, eyes down on her phone. But when she looks up, she smiles softly, slides it in her pocket and walks to me, wheeling her suitcase behind her.

I wave at her, moving towards her as well. When we’re close, within earshot, she says, “Hi Baby.”

I feel something punch me softly in the chest. Not pain. Not joy. Something in between — some ache that feels like nostalgia, even as she's standing in front of me.

I missed her, I think, but not exactly — rather an idea of her. The image I built in my head of my fiancée, one that didn't need to.be confirmed because she wasn't here, and one that can't be mindlessly defended now that she is.

“Hey, baby.”

I lean down to plant a kiss in her lips then I take her suitcase from her. She mutters her thanks and then her phone is in her hand again, as she fires off a text.

I feel this sort of distance between us; I'm walking beside the reserved version of her — the polished, polite Daphne I've been trying to vanish while she's in my presence.

But that's okay. There's still time to get there and I know what will help. “You look really good,” I say. “That place is good for you. Maybe we should get back on the plane.”

She pauses for a millisecond, as if she’s watching me, gauging how happy I am to see her. I freeze. For all the turmoil in my head, I am happy to see her and I hope she sees that.

Then she laughs, thankfully, and the sound warms up the space between us. “I loved it, really. I'm already planning to go back.” She looks up slyly as she adds, “but I missed you and I want to spend time with you, baby.”

I chuckle, pleased that she's thawing. The guards wait for us to get in the car before getting in theirs. Her guards aren't with her and I need to talk to her about the importance of always having them around.

But not know. She's singing the lyrics to a song on her phone and sighs when it ends. Then she starts to talk to me.

About the flight, how the airline upgraded her because of my last name. How doors are opening already. How she got into a few restaurants without reservations. “I'm glad that even if I wasn't actually there, I was.”

She leans over and kisses me noisily on the cheek. “Thanks for that.”

I wave it away. She doesn't need to thank me. A few minutes later, I've managed to get the ball really rolling. She's talking about her plans for her new job, the apartment she’s thinking of moving into. She brightens as she talks, her hands moving more. She touches my knee once, lightly. I smile back.

A message from my phone beeps against the thigh it's resting on inside a pocket. I glance down discreetly, so as not to derail her words. The message is from the PI.

Daphne has hers in her hand, and she hasn't really put it down. She always has it with her, it's never far.

‘Arrived,’ it says, ‘Ready to get to work.’

She’s here.

Daphne is still talking beside me, smiling as she looks out the window at the passing city. I could still do it. I could text her back: call it off, go home, stop digging.

But I don’t.

I let the phone dim again and slide it into my pocket, saying nothing. I drive her home.

Time flies. After that, the day passes in a daze. It's like I'm stuck until I know. I still don't touch work, don't go in for the meetings Kiernan set up.

He sends me a new list for meetings and I react to it. I need to give him that raise. I really can't do today.

But tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll drag myself up and to where I need to be.

_

I wake up in a haze, barely remembering when I fell asleep. I check my phone, glancing at the screen uninterestedly, because I need to get ready for work today. Lots of meetings.

But then I shot up, immediately awake as my heart pounds in my chest.

It's the PI. She's typing.

I open the text box, immediately zeroing in on her messages, ‘Ugh. I have a hangover. It is super fun though. Do you drink sir?”

It stops. I don't respond.

And then she sends a voice message.

I do a quick confirmation if it's really her before remembering it's her MO. I forgot the type of person she is and since I have yet to tell her to stop the voice messages, I can't complain.

I hit play on the voice message. "Anyway, yesterday. The thing is I already knew what I was looking for, I was just confirming, that's why it was so quick.”

Sure but get on with it then, I think, shuffling around in bed. I'm actually pulsing to hear this.

She does. ‘So I picked the one that looked like she couldn't hold her liquor well. She also felt a little sad, generally, so I knew she was perfect. We went to the chub.”

What is with this woman and using alcohol to do her job? ‘I genuinely had a fun time and so did Mai and we're seeing each other again later today for lunch.’

Oh sweet Lord, what is the answer?

This has to be a punishment of some kind, maybe for having a PI investigate my fianceé. But that's fine. I just still need to know.

‘Anyway yeah, Miss Daphne Patterson does have a sister. Red hair, her name is Valerie. And get this, she kept in
sisting that the woman was ugly—’

I turn it off, placing the phone face down on the bed.