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He’s thirty-nine and has built a very successful business for himself, an architecture business that focuses on designing office buildings that are made with environmentally safe materials, both from where they get them and what the materials are made from. He’s worth billions and has been named the most eligible bachelor in New York City.
All the articles talk about how he refuses to do interviews about it. The last page that I look at is dated from eight years ago, a year after I had the accident. The more I read, the more I feel sick to my stomach. It’s all about how he lost the love of his life and the lengths that he went to find her. There are a couple of photos from before and after. It’s obvious how much of a toll it took on him.
I can’t finish the article, and I quickly hit the back button so that I can go back to the search browser page. I click on images at the top and start scrolling down the page of pictures of him. I make it to the end of the page and have to wait for more photos to load, and when they do, my breath catches in my throat.
There are hundreds of pictures of him and me. Dressed in fancy clothes at some kind of events. Walking down the street holding hands. There is one that I click on and can’t take my eyes off of it. It’s the two of us standing on the sidewalk outside of what looks to be an apartment building. His arms are wrapped around my waist and mine are around his neck. We are staring into each other’s eyes, and I look happy and in love.
I quickly close the laptop. The woman on the screen isn’t me. She may look like me, but she isn’t. Not anymore. Lost in thought, I am startled by our dinner delivery.
“Sophia, pause the movie while I pay for dinner and get the TV trays out.”
Her eyes light up and she runs around the room to do as I said. We don’t eat in front of the TV often, but I like to make a night of it every once in a while, and after the day I’ve had, I just want to spend some time with my girl, doing things that make her happy.
Maybe I’ll even let her stay up late again tonight.
I answer the door and smile at the kid that is holding the bags with our food in them. I thank him and take the bags. When I get back into the living room, Sophia already has everything set up and is ready to go. I laugh and set the bags down on the coffee table.
The rest of the night I make an effort to push all thoughts of Chandler and my past out of my head and just focus on Sophia. It takes me some time to fully relax, but listening to her sweet giggles helps me to let go of the day. I love the bond I have with my daughter, and I’m worried about how it will change once I introduce Chandler into her life.
I know I will eventually tell her about him and let them get to know each other, I owe it to Sophia. I just don’t know what will happen between Chandler and I. Part of me wonders what could be between us. Even though I know nothing about him, there is still a piece of me that feels drawn to him. There’s a pull there that I can’t explain.
It’s Monday, and I’m grateful that Sophia didn’t stay up too late last night, she would have been an absolute bear if she had. She was in a great mood for the start of her second week. I have the day off since I worked the weekend, and I plan to deep clean the cabin. It doesn’t really need it, but I need something to keep me occupied. I dress in my cut off jean shorts that are covered in bleach stains and paint, an old baggy T-shirt from the hospital, and a bandana around my head. I start with the upstairs and work my way downstairs, where I am hoping to end with the kitchen.
I turn on some music on my phone, a 2000s rock station on Spotify, and turn the volume up loud to drown out my thoughts. By noon, I finish with the upstairs and gather all of my cleaning supplies to bring downstairs. My hands are full of all the bottles and the bucket I’ve been using to clean, and just as I reach the last step, a knock sounds at my door.
Since it’s the middle of the day on a Monday, I’m not expecting it, and it makes me jump. I drop everything in my arms, and it makes a loud crashing sound, my phone dropping with all of it and the music coming to a dramatic stop. The door files open at the sound, and I’m surprised to see Chandler rushing into the cabin. The door slams into the wall behind it, and I stare in shock as he comes in looking around, his eyes wild like he’s looking for an intruder other than himself. When he sees me standing on the stairs, he freezes and looks me up and down.
“I heard a crash. Are you okay?”
He eyes the things around my feet, and I see the moment he realizes what the sound was; he looks embarrassed.
“I dropped the stuff when you knocked. I wasn’t expecting it, and it made me jump.”
He clears his throat, shuffling from side to side, and runs his fingers through his hair self-consciously, looking everywhere but at me.
“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to just barge in; I just reacted.”
He cringes, and I have to work at keeping the smile off my face. I must not do a very good job, because when he looks up at me again, I can see his lips twitch before we both burst into laughter at the ridiculous situation.
I squat down to pick everything up off the floor, and I’m surprised again when Chandler comes over to help.
“I was just doing some deep cleaning on my day off while Soph is at school. Wanna tell me why you’re here?”
He nods and follows me to the kitchen where we put everything down on the counter. There is an awkward feeling around the room, and I shuffle on my feet as I wait for him to tell me why he’s here. It hits me then that I have no idea how he’s here.
“How did you know where I live?”
In a move that seems rather shy for a man like Chandler Bishop, he rubs the back of his neck as his cheeks turn a light pink.
Is he blushing?
I stare in shock at this very successful businessman as he blushes, and something about it makes him endearing to me.
“I asked around town to see if anyone knew. This town is full of people who are way too trusting, and it makes me even more concerned that your door was unlocked. You should make sure it stays locked.”
I don’t like that he’s trying to tell me what to do again, but I ignore it this time.
“Why are you here, Chandler? I thought I was pretty clear about where I stood yesterday.”
