Chapter 90
Anna POV
The view from the Oak Room at the Fairmont was exactly what I needed—elegant and serene, with Boston Common stretched out beyond the windows, trees just beginning to turn golden in the early fall. Daniel Quinn sat across from me, gesturing enthusiastically as he talked about the producers who'd shown interest in adapting my graphic novel "Shadows in the Garden."
"Seriously, Anna, Terrence Malloy himself said your visual storytelling is exactly what they've been looking for," Daniel said, swirling his red wine. "Something fresh but with emotional depth."
I nodded, forcing myself to focus on his words rather than the relief of being hundreds of miles from New York—from Matthew and Vera's engagement party. "I appreciate the opportunity, Daniel. The timing couldn't have been better."
His eyes flickered with understanding. "I figured you might want to skip town for that particular celebration."
"That obvious, huh?" I attempted a smile.
"Let's just say I understand complicated family dynamics. My brother's choices have always been..." he trailed off, taking a sip of wine. "Questionable at best."
The restaurant's dark wood paneling and soft lighting created a cocoon of calm that I hadn't felt in months. For the first time since the divorce, I'd gone two whole weeks without seeing or hearing from Edward. Two weeks of redirecting my thoughts whenever his face appeared in my mind. Two weeks of pretending I was finally free.
It was working. Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.
---
After dinner, Daniel and I headed back to our rooms. The lobby was quiet, just a few late arrivals checking in and the soft piano music from the lounge drifting through the air. We stood waiting for the elevator, and I felt a strange prickle at the back of my neck—the kind that signals something's about to happen before your conscious mind catches up.
The elevator doors slid open, and my heart stopped.
Edward Frost stood inside, one hand casually in the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit, the other fidgeting with a lighter. The sight of him after two weeks felt like a physical blow. My carefully constructed calm shattered instantly.
I froze, suddenly hyperaware of my heartbeat thundering in my ears and the way my lungs seemed to forget how to draw air. In that moment, I realized how much I'd been lying to myself—two weeks of deliberate avoidance hadn't diminished his effect on me at all.
I managed to compose my face into something resembling indifference, stepping into the elevator and turning my back to him, facing the doors as if he were a stranger. Daniel followed, giving Edward a curt nod.
"Quinn." Edward's voice was cool and low, and I hated how instantly recognizable it was, how it still sent a current through my body. "Unexpected to see you here."
Though his words were directed at Daniel, I felt his gaze brush over me, deliberate and challenging, as if he'd known exactly where I would be.
"Frost," Daniel replied, his tone equally chilled. "Business brings us all to strange places."
The elevator ascended in thick silence. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor numbers, willing them to move faster, fighting the urge to turn and look at Edward. I could feel him behind me, his presence filling the small space, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, the elevator stopped at our floor. I stepped out quickly, Daniel following.
"Anna, do you want to meet early tomorrow to go over the presentation?" Daniel asked as we paused outside my room.
"Yes, that would be helpful. Eight-thirty in the lobby?" I kept my voice steady, professional.
"Perfect. Sleep well."
I watched him walk away, then slipped my keycard into the door, my hands trembling slightly. Once inside, I leaned against the closed door, taking deep breaths to slow my racing heart.
What was Edward doing in Boston? At my hotel? There was no way this was coincidence. The timing, the specific hotel—it had to be deliberate. The frustrating part was how easily he'd upended my equilibrium. Two weeks of telling myself I was over him, yet one glimpse had my heart threatening to pound out of my chest.
I moved to the window, looking out at the city lights twinkling against the darkness. But instead of the Boston skyline, all I could see was Edward's cold, assessing gaze, the way he'd looked through me as if testing my reaction. As if he knew I was pretending he didn't matter.
I decided then that I would continue playing the stranger. It was the only defense I had left.
---
The next morning, I dressed with particular care, choosing a deep navy suit that projected competence and confidence. I needed to look like someone who wasn't affected by running into her ex-husband, someone wholly focused on her career.
The meeting at Atlantic Films went even better than I'd hoped. I walked the team through my vision for adapting "Shadows in the Garden," explaining how the visual language of my graphic novel could translate to film. The storyboards I'd prepared sparked immediate excitement, with people jumping in with ideas and suggestions that built upon my concept rather than trying to transform it into something unrecognizable.
Daniel beamed from his seat at the head of the table. "I think we can officially say we have our creative direction," he announced. "Anna, this is exactly why we wanted you directly involved. The project is now fully funded, and we're looking at starting production next quarter."
The meeting wrapped up ahead of schedule, everyone energized by the progress. As I gathered my materials, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I gripped the edge of the table, waiting for it to pass. Probably just low blood sugar—I'd been too nervous to eat breakfast.
"You okay?" Daniel asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Just a little light-headed. I'll be fine."
"We're celebrating tonight at the Oak Long Bar. The whole core team will be there," he said. "Nothing fancy, just drinks and appetizers around seven. Think you can make it?"
I nodded, though the thought of potentially seeing Edward again made my stomach twist uncomfortably. "I wouldn't miss it."
---
By evening, I was feeling worse. Whatever brief dizziness I'd felt earlier had evolved into a persistent nausea that made the thought of food unbearable. Still, I put on a brave face and joined the group at the restaurant.
The team was in high spirits, toasting the project's green light. I nursed a glass of sparkling water, trying to smile through the growing discomfort in my stomach.
Daniel noticed. "Anna, you're looking pale. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Just a little under the weather," I admitted. "Nothing serious."
"Let me have them send up some rice porridge to your room. My grandmother swore by it for upset stomachs."
Before I could respond, the lead actress approached our table with champagne. "To bringing Anna's incredible world to life!" she toasted.
I smiled weakly, using the moment as cover to excuse myself. "I'll just step out for a minute," I murmured, slipping away from the table.
In the corridor, I heard the familiar click of a Zippo lighter. Edward stood leaning against the wall, lighting a cigar, his attention seemingly fixed on his phone. He hadn't noticed me yet—or was pretending not to.
I took a deep breath and started to walk past him, determined to maintain our mutual charade of indifference. But another wave of nausea hit, stronger this time, making me clutch the wall for support.
A drunk patron stumbled past, nearly colliding with me. Edward moved with startling speed, pulling me away and to his side. I immediately pushed against his chest.
"I don't need your help," I said, the words barely out of my mouth before I doubled over, dry heaving toward a nearby trash can.
Edward extinguished his cigar, his expression unreadable as he watched me struggle. "You need to go to a hospital."
I shook my head, mortified. "I'm fine."
He paused, as if realizing something. Then his eyes suddenly turned sharp. "Anna, could it be that... you're getting pregnant?"
The question hit me like a shock of cold water. I looked up at him, stunned into silence, our eyes locking.
His question hung in the air between us, impossible to ignore, breaking through the careful distance we'd maintained and forcing us to focus on what was happening to me.