Chapter 113 Golden bars
The foyer’s marble floor was quiet and cool under Carson's pricey leather shoes. He had been back in the country for two days but he had stayed in a cold impersonal hotel room both nights.
He had deliberately and strategically retreated from the oppressive ‘welcome home’ that he knew was waiting for him.
The mansion's quiet now felt more like emptiness than tranquility as the heavy elaborate front door clicked shut behind him.
He appreciated it. In addition to Bridget's pink, absurd convertible, his mothers black sedan was missing from the three-car garage.
He walked, his steps heavy and tired, shrugging out of his suit jacket.
He took the grand staircase two steps at a time after tossing the jacket over the mahogany banister.
The mansion was usually a hive of activity whether it was Bridget's demanding calls or the low hum of his mother's administrative work.
He didn't bother to switch on the lights once he was in his bedroom.
The room was filled with a golden hazy gloom as the muted afternoon sun filtered weakly through the heavy velvet curtains.
He took a seat on the edge of the enormous bed with four posts.
He untied his silk tie slowly releasing it and allowing it to drop to the ground in a gentle abandoned pile.
His shirt’s top two buttons were unbuttoned. He let out a deep ragged sigh. He collapsed back onto the bed causing the mattress to slightly give way under his weight.
The chandelier that hung like a frozen crystal spider on the ceiling caught his attention.
As he gazed at it the edges of the glittering glass became blurry due to the emotional clutter and exhaustion of the previous 48 hours.
Annabel. The void behind his eyes echoed the name.
He shut his eyes and her face appeared instantly: not the cold, reserved Annabel he had seen two mornings before but the
Annabel of years past laughing and letting her hair shine in their small shared studio apartment.
“I shouldn’t have gone there.” He whispered.
But he had been unable to avoid it.
The need to see if the past could still be saved and whether the fresh start they had made could be restored with a single sincere apology had been a physical ache.
It hadn't succeeded.
He kept thinking about the silent unyielding man standing behind her and her icy decisive distance.
He turned over on his side and held his head up. He looked down at the rumpled custom-made suit jacket he had left by the foot of the bed.
“Why is this so difficult?” He asked
And there was Bridget. She stood for the simple route, the one that his family had always cleared for him.
A marriage would be the last essential piece in the foundation of her mother’s career which included half of the city’s commercial real estate.
He had been eager to enter the golden cage. It was meant to make him happy.
Standing up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He approached the window and removed the thick curtain just enough to look out at the spotless driveway.
He gave a little cynical laugh.
“Aren’t I stuck now?” He asked.
He went to his big dresser and opened the top drawer. He took up a modest little black box.
When he opened it the enormous immaculate solitaire diamond engagement ring he had purchased for Bridget—which had cost him a fortune—was there.
He felt nothing but hollow dread when he looked at it despite the fact that it was unquestionably beautiful.
He thought back to a tiny silver ring he had given Annabel. She had cherished the simple elegant band he had purchased from an Italian street vendor even though it had cost nearly nothing.
With Bridget's ring in his hand he sighed.
“She would never accept this.” He muttered.
He slammed the box shut and put it back in the drawer. He combed through his hair in frustration.
“I need to move on…My future is Bridget. .
My mom is right. I need to be a man.”
But he felt sick to his stomach from the practicality. He thought about Bridget's well-groomed nails, her firm demeanor and her treatment of wait staff.
Managing his mother's demands and her expectations would be his lifelong task he knew with a certainty that made him shiver.
He entered the attached bathroom and sprayed his face with cold water after turning on the faucet.
He fixed his gaze on his image in the big elaborate mirror. His eyes were shadowed with indecision and appeared tired.
“She’s moved on” he said
He rested his head on the cool marble counter. He ought to head downstairs and begin getting ready to be the obedient son and the watchful fiancé.
The merger proposal in his briefcase was waiting for him to read. Rather he found himself taking out his phone.
He moved his finger over Annabel's number as he browsed through his contacts.
He was aware that he should not call. Calling her would only make her more confused and more significantly destabilize him.
He couldn't go back. This time he wanted to hear her voice one last time and apologize—not the prepared apology google had helped him write but a real one.
But he lowered the phone, not making the call.The house's silence closed in on him once more.
It was a relief that Annabel at last had someone who appeared able to shield her from the emotional upheaval he had caused her.
But the jealousy had a sour taste.
The golden gloom of the late afternoon grew darker as he returned to the bedroom. He had to make a choice—a final irrevocable choice.
Without turning around he had to decide on his course and follow it. Even to his own ears the words “I'm going to marry Bridget” sounded flat and unconvincing as he thought of it.
It felt more like a surrender than a decision. Picking up the fallen tie he took a seat on the bed again.
The very luxury and ambition he had sought had imprisoned him. With his gaze fixed on the chandelier, he reclined once more.
He found himself thinking about Annabel and the one weekend they spent running away sleeping in a tent and giggling at the rain.
“I miss her” He mumbled in a barely audible whisper.
He was aware that immersing himself in the life he had chosen was the only way to break free from the never-ending mental cycle.
His mother and Bridget's chatter and distraction were what he needed to muffle the soft voice of his own remorse.
He forced himself up with one last determined effort.
He was in need of a plan, coffee and a shower. He had to train himself to live inside the golden cage that was waiting for him.
“Enough of this,” he said. “It's time for work.”