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Sophie
The second we get off the plane in New York, Declan is back in business mode.
Two cars greet us on the tarmac—one for him, and one for me. Everything he bought for me is loaded into the trunk by one of his personal assistants. Declan escorts me to the side door, his hands exceedingly gentle as he lays them on my waist.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice tight. “I wish I could’ve spent more time with you.”
“It really is okay, Declan,” I assure him. “Do whatever you need to do. And if you need anything from me, I’m just a phone call away.”
He nods, then ushers me into the back seat of the car and strides over to his, pulling out his phone to make a call as he leaves.
The driver takes me straight back to my apartment. He helps me carry everything upstairs, asks me if I need anything else, then departs when I say no, leaving me by myself.
I look around at all of the shopping bags full of new clothes, feeling strange and deeply lonely. Reagan isn’t even here to greet me. I’m completely by myself.
I wander over to the couch and sink down into it. I think about turning on the TV, but I can’t bring myself to, so I just sit in silence, staring at the blank screen.
That whole night was amazing—dancing with Declan was the best I’ve ever felt, and now, I feel like I’m crashing hard from the high.
I guess with Declan, the highs are astronomically high—but the lows have to be accordingly low.
I know that he’s dealing with something important. He doesn’t exactly have the option of ignoring something like this. His entire life’s work is in jeopardy, and he can’t just let his father ruin everything he’s built.
But as I lean back against the couch cushions, weariness taking over my body, I can’t help but wonder…
Is this how it’s always going to be?
* * *
Every morning since we’ve gotten together—except for the mornings that I’ve stayed at his place, of course—I’ve woken up to a text from Declan. Something short and sweet.
I missed you last night. I hope your day is wonderful.
I wish I could’ve woken up next to you. I can’t wait to see you tonight.
Little things like that.
But when I wake up on the gray Monday morning after our ill-fated trip to Paris, there’s no such message on my phone. I frown when I see my notification-free screen.
Pretty much immediately, today sucks.
I have to drag myself out of bed, and I’m almost late coming into the office. During my commute, it starts to rain, which doesn’t exactly help my mood.
When I get up to my floor, there’s a palpable tension in the office. People are gathered in small groups, discussing the takeover. There’s anxiety in the air—nobody seems to know what this means for the company, for themselves, or for their jobs.
I approach Andrea and Mark, who have their own summit going on by the coffee machine.
“Hey,” I say, greeting them with a nod. “Boy, it’s kinda gloomy in here, huh?”
Andrea gives me a bleary-eyed look. “I’ll say.”
“Everyone’s stressed,” Mark sighs. “Nobody wants to lose their jobs. Nobody thought anything like this could even happen.”
Declan hasn’t been updating me about anything, and I haven’t heard from him since he sent me home after we landed, so I have no clue what’s going on.
“Do you know anything about this?” I ask both of them. “The whole ‘takeover’ business?”
Grimly, they shake their heads.
