Chapter 58 Love Isn't Control
“What do you mean you’ve already found someone to replace you in New York?” Scarlett demands, her arms crossed over her chest as she faces me. “I knew it was coming eventually, but you didn’t even mention you were looking.”
Her arms fly in the air.
“What the hell, Lawrence?”
I hadn’t meant to upset her like this. It's our last peaceful night in London before returning to New York. But the secret had been eating me alive for days, and I couldn’t carry it alone anymore.
In the raw, depressing weeks after my mother died—when grief felt like it would drown me—I did what I always do.
I threw myself into work. That was when I quietly began searching for my replacement in New York.
My purpose there had been finished for months.
London is where my life is. Where it all began. Where it belongs.
Scarlett pinches the bridge of her nose, then steps closer. “So, after your send-off in New York… you’re just going to fly back here permanently? And I’m supposed to stay in Manhattan alone?”
The question hangs in the air for a tense moment.
We should've had this "What happens next?” conversation a long time ago.
But we’d been avoiding it and living in the present, stealing every moment life gave us.
I want her with me here in London, but it's too big an ask.
Exhaling slowly, I reply, "The board’s been pushing for me to return to London full-time.”
“You are the board,” she fires back. “You hold the largest shares. You built this company from a dorm room. I think you get to decide which branch you actually want to run.”
I pause, running a hand through my hair. “You’re right.”
Scarlett huffs.
“But I want London, baby.” My voice softens. “It’s where it all started. It’s… home.”
Her shoulders relax and she lets out a deep breath before walking over and sinking onto the couch beside me.
“I cannot ask you to leave New York for me. It’s too much.” I continue, as softly as I can. “You have friends there. And I know how much you love the place.”
She looks away. “This sucks. Finding out about this the night before we fly back to New York sucks.”
She leaves the couch again and starts pacing. “So this replacement of yours… how soon is he going to be in the office?”
“As soon as I resume.”
Another flash of anger crosses her face. “You sat across from me in that bathtub, Lawrence, naked,” she emphasizes. “And you kept this from me.”
I let out a tired breath.
“You looked me in the eye and said we were flying back together. That I’d only be two weeks ahead of you. You said it like you were going to resume with me.”
“I am going to resume with you.” I add quietly. “Just not as your boss.”
She glares at me.
“Any other bombshells you’d like to drop?” she asks, still frowning. “If not, then you’d better tell me about this ‘new boss,’ since I’ll be stuck working for him. I should at least know my fate, right?”
“Baby… no.” I shake my head. “You’re not going to be working for him.”
I swore I would never let my girlfriend report to another man. Never.
The mere thought of her fetching his coffee or taking his orders makes something dark and dangerous burn through my veins.
A look of confusion crosses her face, followed immediately by dawning horror. “What do you mean I’m not working for him? You do remember what my actual job is, right? The job I’ve had since long before you ever set foot in that New York office?”
“I didn't just hire George Foster to be the new branch manager, Scarlett,” I explain, getting to my feet. “I also hired a new executive secretary to work as his assistant. Her name is Amanda Tomlin.”
Scarlett stares at me, dumbfounded for a long second. “So what the hell happens to my job?” She lets out a sharp, incredulous scoff. “Lawrence, what exactly are you trying to tell me here?”
“You don’t even need to work,” I begin. with a light shrug. “You know I’ll take care of every single thing you need. You’ll never want for anything again.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Scarlett’s eyes narrow into slits so tiny, the part Japanese trait becomes obvious. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Her voice is deadly.
I swallow a gulp. “No.”
“For fuck’s sake, you cannot do things like that, Lawrence!” She explodes, angrily. “This is my life. I make my own decisions!”
I move toward her, but she steps back, keeping the distance between us. “Please tell me you haven’t already told the office anything.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t. I planned to do it when I resume. The same day I'll be introducing the office to George and Amanda.”
“I see,” she scoffs again. “And what were you planning to tell them about me?”
Scarlett inches closer, her brown eyes still blazing. “I’m curious. Were you going to say I quit? Found a better offer? I can't believe you right now, Lawrence.”
“Baby, calm down…”
“I cannot calm down, okay? Don’t you tell me to calm down!” she shrills. “You may not realize it, but it is so selfish of you to plan all of this behind my back. Grieving or not. If you were staying in New York, fine… I would’ve understood. But you’re not.”
I stare down at her.
“You’re going back to London, and now you want to rip away the one thing I have that keeps me grounded? The one thing that’s going to keep me from missing you every single day? I cannot believe you right now!”
She spins and stalks toward the bedroom.
I follow without thinking.
“You cannot control me, Lawrence,” she snaps over her shoulder.
“I’m not trying to.”
“You are.” She stops in the middle of the room and whirls around to face me.
Her eyes are bright with anger and hurt. “What happened to asking me? What happened to sitting me down and actually asking if I’d want to move to London with you permanently?”
I stay silent for a second, the words sticking in my throat. “Because I…” I run a hand through my hair. “It’s a huge step. I wasn’t sure you’d want to leave everything behind… your friends, your life in New York. I didn’t want to pressure you into something that big.”
“Stop making assumptions for me,” she cuts in sharply.
“You could’ve tried asking first before deciding my entire future.”
The guilt lands like a punch to the ribs. She’s right. Again.
But the truth is I was scared. I was scared she'd say no, so I just thought it was better not to ask at all.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. “I haven’t been thinking straight for a while now. Between losing my mother and everything that’s happened… I’m sorry, baby.”
“Whatever,” she mutters, the word filled with exhaustion and disappointment.
“Baby, come on…”
“No.” She turns her back on me and climbs into the massive bed, yanking the covers up. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Or in one of the guest rooms. I don’t care which. Just not here.”
She rolls onto her side, giving me her back.
I stand there staring at her curled-away form.
God, I can be such a fucking dick.
Finally, I turn and walk out, pulling the door close softly behind me.