“Exactly. You’ve pinpointed our issues as if you’ve been here for years, and your solutions are practical and workable. I’m impressed.”
I wrung my hands under the table. He couldn’t have said anything that would have made me feel any better. To compare my work with a professional consultant was nothing short of jaw dropping. Not only had I not let him down—I’d not let me down. I’d proven I was capable of more. Working here, being in London, I’d discovered that I wanted something bigger than what I was doing in my life in New York.
“The only issue we have is the cost of the software and implementation.”
“I’ve only done some high-level research—we’d definitely need to have an expert come in and provide a quote.”
“And we’d need to find cost savings from elsewhere. There’s no way I’ll get the barristers to increase their contribution to pay for it. We’re not the cheapest chambers as it is.”
“I understand. And I can look into it. My real estate recommendation might help. If you were to move into new offices, running costs would come down because you could use a purpose-built office more efficiently.”
He nodded as he stroked his chin. “Look into it, will you? And let’s get the actual figure on how much the software would cost.” He closed the presentation pack and patted it with his hand. “This is excellent work, Violet.”
“Thank you.”
“I trust you’ll be with us a few more months? I think officially you’re due to finish at the end of the week otherwise.”
“I would love to stay if you’ll have me.”
“That’s agreed then.”
Our meeting over, we left the table, and Craig opened the door to his office to the sound of a woman shouting. “Where is he?”
Craig frowned as he followed me out into the corridor.
“Craig,” said a tall, glamorous, blonde woman who looked nothing like the few female barristers in chambers but seemed to know her way around. “I’m looking for my husband.”
“Mrs. Knightley, how marvelous to see you.”
Mrs. Knightley? The walls of the corridor began to bend and curve as if they were about to collapse. I tried to think of possible explanations as to why Craig was calling this woman Mrs. Knightley and why she wanted to see her husband. Was there someone else in chambers with the same name? Was she Alexander’s mother? Of course I came up empty. I knew the answer. I just didn’t want to believe it.
Alexander was married.
“Craig, you’re very sweet, but I just want to speak to Alex. Is he in his office?”
The familiar rattle of Alexander’s doorknob echoed down the corridor, and I watched as the man I’d had butterflies about this morning fill the frame of the door. “Gabby?” His eyes slid from his wife to me, then back to her. “What are you doing here?”
She marched up the corridor and pushed past him into his office and shut the door.
I turned to Craig, who said nothing, so I followed his lead, forced my mouth into a shape I hoped resembled a smile and headed back to my desk, clutching my presentation to my chest.
Knightley was married?
Was I the other woman?
My stomach churned and my hands went slick with sweat. I wanted to be back in Connecticut with my sister, sitting in bed and watching reruns of the Golden Girls. I knew what being cheated on felt like. I understood what it was like to be in love with a man who didn’t respect me enough to keep it in his pants. How had I misjudged Knightley so badly? How had I become a woman I vowed never to be? I would never knowingly have sex with a man who had a wife or girlfriend, let alone share the things—the personal things—I had with Alexander. I’d thought I had learned my lesson with men already. I knew they were fundamentally untrustworthy—that’s why I never let myself get involved. I had proof. I didn’t need more evidence. How could I have been so stupid to be taken in by his taciturn charm? He was just like the rest of them—driven by their dicks and their egos. He better keep away from me because if he came within three yards, I’d punch him in the balls.
Alexander
“What are you doing here?” I asked, stalking back to my desk. It had been a long time since Gabby had turned up to chambers.
“You promised me that you’d let me have the signed papers by the end of last week.”
Shit. I’d totally forgotten. So much had happened last week and this weekend with Violet that it had completely slipped my mind. Gabby deserved better.
“You promised me, Alex.” She looked dejected, beaten almost. “I need to move on.”
I was used to Gabby angry, but I wasn’t used to seeing her upset. Yet this was the second time in just over a week that I’d seen her so vulnerable. It didn’t suit her, and I seemed to be the cause of her pain, which I hated myself for.
“I bet you’ve been working all weekend and not given those papers a second thought.” Her gaze flitted over my desk.
Guilt tugged at my chest. I’d not worked enough and I was paying the price today. It had been worth it though. There weren’t many times in my life I’d thought anything was more important than work, but spending the night and the next morning with Violet had been. It felt like being plugged into the mains after being on a fading generator for too long. My mind was clearer, sharper, even if my muscles ached from the hours we spent in bed together.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She shook her head. “I’ve had enough of your apologies to last me a lifetime. Just sign the bloody papers. You promised.”
I headed over to my desk and pulled out the manila envelope that had arrived a couple of weeks ago. I’d meant to look at it this weekend, but I’d been selfish, again. Neglected Gabby’s needs, again.
I signed the last page, then worked my way page by page to the front of the document, initialing as I went. It was a standard document. Nothing contentious about it.
“You see?” Gabby said. “It took you five seconds, and I’ve had to waste half a day coming out here.”
“I know. I should have done it.”
“I’d feel better if you’d have been having the weekend off. Doing something other than working. Have you thought that it might do you good to not spend every waking hour in chambers?”
This weekend I’d taken the whole of Saturday night off and almost all of Sunday and although it had been worth it, I couldn’t do that regularly. It had left Gabby angry and me behind in my work. “I get the message Gabby—you think I work too much.”
“Look, I never wanted to be the wife screaming at her husband. I used to hate myself after we’d argue.” She leaned against my desk. “As much as I wanted your attention, I also wanted you to be happy and have a good life. You’re a decent man and you deserve to do more than spend your whole life working.”
I’d forgotten the good parts about Gabby in all the shouting. She was kind and compassionate and wanted the best for people.
“Thank you,” I said. “But I’m doing what I always set out to do, Gabby,” I replied. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve chosen this life.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes.