“I’m pleased to hear that, as I was hoping to extend your contract for another three months.”
If he’d turned around, unzipped his trousers, and showed me his ass, I wouldn’t have been more shocked. “Another three months?” I’d been planning to go back to New York after my time here had come to an end, even though I wasn’t sure what I was heading back to.
“I don’t know what your plans are or whether you’ve got something lined up—”
“But I’ll have Mr. Knightley’s archiving and filing done by the end of my contract. What will I do?”
“Well,” he said, steepling his fingers, “something tells me that a woman as clever as you has been looking around our office and finding ways in which we could improve. Am I right?”
I thought about it for a few seconds. I’d wondered why they hadn’t updated their document management systems and why admin staff couldn’t raise invoices. There was also the way the meeting rooms were full, and people were complaining. I grimaced. “I might have noticed one or two things.”
“As I thought. I think there would be plenty to keep you busy. Perhaps you could come to me with a list of your ideas and suggested improvements and together we can agree what you’ll prioritize.”
I couldn’t believe what he was suggesting—he was giving me an opportunity to create a job for myself. “That sounds . . .” He trusted me. Believed in me. I chewed on the inside of my lip to distract myself from my rising emotion. “Unbelievable.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay another three months? I can arrange a visa for you.”
“Can I take some time to think about it?” I asked. I had no idea whether or not Darcy would let me stay in her house.
It felt as if I was on the brink of finding what I’d been looking for when I’d first come to London. Part of me wanted to stay and see if it was what I was searching for. But the other part was nervous. What if I didn’t like what I found out?
And what would Knightley think? What if he didn’t want me to stick around? He probably didn’t care either way. I wasn’t quite sure why he was even part of my deliberations, but for whatever reason, he was.
“Of course. Produce a plan and then decide whether you want to execute it.”
“You’re putting a lot of faith in me.”
He nodded. “You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
It had been a long time since I’d believed in the old adage “you reap what you sow.” And even longer since I’d lost my belief in karma and the universe being a just and fair place. But right then, I felt that part of me begin to regenerate, and for the first time in a long time, I began to think about my future.
Seventeen
Alexander
As I sat in my car at the end of the drive of my soon-to-be ex-wife’s home, I knew I was risking a restraining order. It looked like I was staking her out. I wasn’t. I was just putting off the final part of the journey. Despite being separated for three years, I hadn’t been expecting the divorce proceedings. I guess we should have gotten around to it sooner but as always, I was busy. I hadn’t thought about it—or her—much at all. I’d been buried in work before we got married, then fallen asleep during our wedding breakfast because I’d worked day and night for a week before the wedding so I could take my wedding day off. And I’d worked every day of our two short years together. Despite getting engaged, married, and then separated, nothing much in my world changed.
After the split, going to the hotel hadn’t been the wrench it might have been for some people. I had no demands on my time other than from work. I didn’t have to listen to Gabby scream at me because I was home late or because I’d spent an hour on the phone during a dinner party. My bed was made, my food cooked for me, and the commute short. If I was completely honest, when Gabby had told me to move out, it had been a relief.
I’d not seen her since. Even though our subsequent, infrequent phone calls had been amicable, I hadn’t been back to the house. She’d told me she’d boxed my things up, but I’d never wanted to collect them. I wanted to concentrate on the future, not my past. I wanted to build the career I’d always dreamed of.
Getting the decree nisi was the first time I’d really felt anything about our separation. I had a gnawing in my gut that hadn’t left me since I’d opened that envelope, but I couldn’t put my finger on what was causing it. I’d called Gabby, and she’d told me she was going to donate all my things if I didn’t come to collect them, so here I was at the end of the drive, stalling before I pulled up to the house and put a full stop at the end of the sentence that was Gabby and me.
What was I doing? I leaned my head back on the headrest. I was dredging up the past unnecessarily. I wasn’t sure what was in the boxes she’d stored for the last three years, but it wasn’t anything I’d missed. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but I wasn’t about to turn around now she was expecting me. I just needed to get this over with. Perhaps what was in those boxes would rid me of this knot in my stomach that needed untying.
I started the engine and turned up the drive. She’d had it tarmacked. I’d driven this route every day for two years, but now it was as though I’d never been here.
The surrounding trees and shrubs had grown in the last few years, but the rest was the same. Just like my life had continued relatively unchanged, so had Gabby’s. I turned and parked in front of the house. In the last few months before I left, I would often sit in the car, checking messages before I went in, bracing myself for the inevitable row about my hours or something I’d forgotten to do. Things had gotten so bad that it was a wonder I hadn’t left long before Gabby had suggested it.
I opened the car and got out. I still had the house key on my key-chain. I should give it back.
I lifted the knocker, not knowing what reception I was going to encounter.
Gabby opened the door, her face blank of emotion. “Come in.” She flounced up the hallway to the kitchen. She was thinner than when we were married. Her face a little more angular. As usual, she was immaculately dressed and looked like she’d come straight from the hairdresser. That was the thing about Gabby—she was polished. In many ways, she really was the perfect wife. She’d just wanted more than I could give her. My behavior hadn’t changed when we got married. I’d always worked hard. She’d had full disclosure, and she’d pushed for a wedding anyway. She’d pitched me on the whole thing, told me I needed a wife to support my work. But she’d changed the rules on me after we married, demanded more from me once we’d walked down the aisle.
“Thanks for keeping my things,” I said as we stood in the kitchen. Gabby opened one of the drawers in the island and pulled out a bunch of keys. “I thought you might have burned them.”
“I stopped with the effigy. The smoke was getting in my eyes.” She folded her arms. “The boxes are in the garage.”