Chapter 81
Chapter 81
Chapter 81: “We Weren’t Always This”
POV: Jackson
I was barely in the office for ten minutes before Duncan called me into the boardroom.
He didn’t look happy.
The door closed behind us with a dull click. I took the seat across from him, still checking the time. I hadn’t even touched my coffee.
“You’ve missed three morning check-ins this week,” he said.
“I’ve been working from home.”
“Jackson,” he said slowly, like he was choosing every word with care, “The board is concerned.”
I raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“You,” he said. “They think you’re distracted. That your marriage is affecting your performance.”
I blinked. “My marriage?”
“They think Elizabeth is—” he hesitated, then pushed forward, “—a liability.”
For a second, I didn’t say anything. I sat back in the chair, jaw tight.
Duncan looked uncomfortable, like he already knew how I’d take it.
“You’re repeating rumors now?” I asked, voice low.
“I’m telling you what’s being whispered around boardrooms. And I’m telling you as your friend, not just your COO.”
I stood up. “She’s my wife. She’s not going anywhere.”
“I didn’t say she should.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His mouth flattened into a line. “You know how these people think. Appearances matter.”
I walked to the window. The skyline stretched in front of me, tall buildings, moving cars, busy lives.
“She’s not a problem,” I said. “She’s the reason I even care about this place anymore.”
Duncan let out a breath, soft but loaded. “Just… be careful. They’ll use anything they can to shake your position.”
I didn’t answer. I just nodded once and left.
\---
I didn’t go straight home. I just started driving.
I didn’t know where I was going until I got there.
The lookout point was quiet. Same old cracked bench. Same view of the city, distant, twinkling. Detached. It used to be my favorite place to think when I first moved back.
I got out of the car and leaned against the hood, watching the sky change.
It was the kind of silence that asked questions.
The wind blew soft against my face, and I thought of her. Elizabeth, curled up in her studio this morning, paint on her hands, her soft humming filling the room. I hadn’t wanted to leave.
She didn’t even ask where I was going. She just smiled at me like she knew I’d come back.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled aimlessly, then stopped on an old photo.
Not even of us, just her, blurry and half-turned, laughing at something I’d said at one of Pearl’s charity events. I remembered being stunned that night by how easy it was to talk to her.
She didn’t care about the suits or the wine or the fake smiles.
She had looked at me like I was someone. Not just the spare heir. Not just Pearl’s ex.
I swallowed hard.
We weren’t always this.
Not this mess of headlines and family dinners and boardroom threats.
We started soft.
There had been quiet moments. Little ones I didn’t notice until now.
Her hand brushing mine on the kitchen counter. Her sleepy smile when she leaned on my shoulder at some event she didn’t want to attend. The way she said my name when she was tired, not with annoyance, but with something close to trust.
Back then, I didn’t know what to do with that trust.
Now I’d die to keep it.
My phone buzzed. A text from Elizabeth.
> “Everything okay?”
I stared at the screen, thumbs hovering.
Then I typed, “Yeah. Just needed air. You hungry?”
Her reply came quick.
> “Yeah. Craving pancakes. Don’t judge me.”
I smiled, slid the phone into my pocket, and got back in the car.
\---
The kitchen lights were low when I walked in. The air smelled faintly like paint and something sugary.
Elizabeth was sitting on the couch in one of my old hoodies, her feet curled under her.
“I got takeout,” I said, holding up the bag.
She smiled. “You read my mind.”
I dropped the bag on the counter and pulled out the pancakes, syrup, and extra fruit. “They looked at me funny for ordering this at dinner time.”
“You didn’t care though, did you?”
“Not even a little.”
She padded over and grabbed a fork, her eyes a little tired but warm. “Everything okay at work?”
I paused. “Define okay.”
She looked up at me, chewing slowly. “That bad?”
I shook my head. “Just people running their mouths.”
“About me?”
I didn’t answer at first. I didn’t want to see her face fall.
But she already knew.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Don’t be.” I leaned against the counter. “They’re wrong.”
She poked at a piece of pancake. “It’s not your job to convince them.”
“No. But it’s my job to protect you from them.”
“I don’t need protecting.”
“I know,” I said. “But I want to. That’s the difference.”
Her hand brushed mine. “We’ve come a long way, huh?”
I looked at her then. Hair messy, hoodie sleeves too long, fork in hand. My wife.
“Yeah,” I said. “We weren’t always this.”
She smiled, soft and full of something I didn’t want to name out loud yet.
Maybe one day I would.
But for now, I just stood there, watching her eat pancakes, wondering how I ever thought she was a liability.
Because to me, She was everything.