Chapter 35
Eleanor POV
I awoke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, the events of last night flooding back as I shifted and felt the dull ache in my ankle. Derek had tended to my sprain with surprising gentleness, a stark contrast to the cold accusations he'd hurled at me moments before. I tentatively rotated my foot, wincing slightly. Not terrible, but enough to justify a day off from the flower shop.
After texting Rachel with instructions for the day, I made my way downstairs, moving carefully on the stairs. Mrs. Hughes had already prepared breakfast, the scent of fresh coffee filling the kitchen. I was midway through my second cup when I heard Derek's footsteps on the stairs.
He paused briefly in the doorway, his eyes finding mine before he crossed to the coffee pot. I returned my attention to my phone, pretending to be absorbed in emails while acutely aware of his every movement. The silence between us stretched thin and brittle.
"I'm going out," Derek announced, after drinking only half his coffee.
"Oh," I replied, not looking up.
"Not going to ask where?" There was a challenge in his voice.
I finally raised my eyes to his. "Does it matter? You always go wherever you want."
He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I'm heading to the Boston Country Club. Playing golf with some investors." He paused. "You could join me. Your ankle seems better."
The invitation surprised me, though I knew it wasn't sincere. Derek was simply maintaining appearances, knowing I would decline.
"No, thank you. I'm still resting my ankle." I returned to my phone, dismissing him.
After he left, Mrs. Hughes emerged from the pantry, concern etched on her kind face. "Are you sure you don't want to go with Mr. Wells? It's such a lovely day."
I smiled weakly. "I'm sure, Mrs. Hughes. I have other plans."
What I didn't say was that I no longer wanted the privilege of standing beside Derek Wells. I no longer wanted the title of Mrs. Wells. Those were hollow privileges that only brought pain.
---
My phone rang around noon, Olivia's name flashing on the screen. Her voice came through, bright and energetic. "Get dressed, we're going to see that new play. The one with the British guy from that HBO show."
"Olivia, my ankle—"
"Is it broken? Are you in a cast?" Her tone brooked no argument.
"No, but—"
"Then put on something cute. I'll be there in thirty minutes."
I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. Perhaps getting out would be good for me. I changed into a light blue sundress and applied minimal makeup, just enough to look presentable. By the time Olivia texted that she was outside, I felt almost human again.
Olivia waited in her boss's black Mercedes G-Wagon, oversized Prada sunglasses perched on her nose. She lowered them as I approached, eyes critically assessing my outfit.
"Not bad for a wounded soldier," she quipped.
I plucked the sunglasses from her face and put them on. "I'm borrowing these."
"Sure, they cost more than his sense of loyalty," Olivia smirked as I slid into the passenger seat.
I gave her a pained smile. "At least the sunglasses won't lie about loving me."
Her expression softened, and she squeezed my hand before pulling away from the curb.
---
"So how's business?" Olivia asked as we merged onto the highway.
"Actually, quite good. I landed the annual sponsorship gala. All the floral arrangements." I felt a small flush of pride. My shop was doing well, entirely on its own merits.
"That's amazing!" Olivia's excitement was genuine. "I finally escaped that tire company account. Now I'm handling the campaign for that luxury cosmetics brand—the one with the French name nobody can pronounce."
We laughed, and for a moment, I felt lighter. Olivia had that effect on people.
"What about Mr. Investment Banker? Still seeing him?" I asked.
Olivia rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't even start. Found him active on Tinder last week. His Armani suit is currently floating somewhere in the Charles River."
"You're so dramatic," I said, shaking my head.
"Speaking of dramatic relationships..." She glanced at me. "You really decided? Three years and just... over?"
I stared out the window, watching Boston's familiar landscape slide by. "This marriage was a transaction from the beginning."
Olivia's hand found mine again. "You know I'm in your corner, whatever you decide."
"Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd refused the arrangement," I said quietly.
"I've never lost a bet, Eleanor," Olivia said with false bravado. "I called it from day one that narcissist would break your heart. Too bad you didn't take that bet."
She turned up the volume on her playlist, and the opening notes of "Cold Love" filled the car. I smiled sadly at the lyrics about passion cooling to indifference. It felt like they were written about Derek and me—fiery at first, then slowly cooling until all that remained was ice.
Just as I was about to comment on the song, my phone rang. The name on the screen made my stomach tighten: Seraphina Bradley.
"Eleanor, darling," her honeyed voice came through the speaker. "I'm hosting a little welcome-back gathering tonight at the lakehouse. Derek mentioned you were taking the day off, so I hoped you might join us?"
I felt my mouth go dry. Before I could respond, Olivia snatched the phone from my hand.
"Seraphina! We'd be absolutely delighted," she gushed with exaggerated enthusiasm. "What time should we arrive?"
After ending the call, Olivia tossed my phone back to me with a triumphant look. "What?" she said, catching my expression. "That woman needs to know she can't just dismiss you."
"Derek probably doesn't want me there," I said hesitantly.
"That's exactly why we're going," Olivia's tone was firm. "I won't let that woman or anyone else look down on you. Besides, if he really didn't want you there, he would have told Seraphina you were busy when she asked him about your schedule."
She shot me a knowing look. "Trust me, I understand men. They love watching women fight over them."
Olivia reached over and squeezed my hand. "If anyone causes trouble, I'll handle it. No one in Boston is better at pulling hair than me."
I laughed despite myself, grateful for her loyalty. As we continued toward our destination, anxiety coiled in my stomach. Tonight would either be a disaster or a revelation—possibly both.
---
We arrived at the lakehouse just after sunset. The sprawling property was illuminated with string lights, cars of the wealthy and connected lining the circular driveway. Music and laughter spilled from the open doors.
As we walked up the path, I spotted Melissa Warner, Daniel's girlfriend, who seemed surprised to see me.
"Eleanor! I didn't expect... I mean, it's lovely to see you," she fumbled, eyes darting nervously toward the house.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"No, of course not," she replied too quickly. "I just thought... well, with Derek..." She trailed off awkwardly.
From inside, I heard Thomas Stone asking loudly, "Where'd Derek and Seraphina disappear to?"
Someone laughed and replied, "Upstairs, I think. Getting reacquainted."
Melissa touched my arm. "Eleanor, maybe tonight isn't the best—"
"There you are!" Olivia interrupted, slipping her arm through mine. Her eyes were blazing with protective fury. "I'm going upstairs to find your husband."
Before I could stop her, Thomas emerged onto the terrace. His eyebrows shot up when he saw me, and he quickly looked behind him.
Then, like a scene from a movie I didn't want to be in, Derek and Seraphina appeared at the top of the staircase. They descended one after another, all eyes in the room turning to watch.
I stood frozen, unable to breathe as they approached.