Chapter 3
April
I’d always loved how Georgia’s office smelled of lavender and French roast coffee. The gentle patter of rain against the window matched my melancholy mood as I sank into one of her plush visitor chairs. Even the familiar click-clack of keyboards from the bullpen below seemed muted today, as if the whole office was wrapped in the same gray clouds that pressed against the windows.
In the two months since I’d started as Scarlett’s assistant, this space had become my sanctuary. The soft lighting, Georgia’s carefully curated décor, even that silly desktop humidifier that made everything smell like a spa – it was all so different from the sterile corporate environment just outside her door.
“You look like you could use this,” Georgia said, pouring coffee from her French press. The rich aroma hit my nose, making my mouth water. I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic, breathing in the familiar scent of those ridiculously expensive beans she special-ordered. Below us, Cassandra’s heels clicked past for what had to be the third time this morning, drawing a knowing sigh from Georgia.
“Rough morning?” she asked.
“That obvious?” My voice cracked slightly, betraying more than I meant to.
“Honey, I’ve been an executive assistant for fifteen years. Reading people is part of the job.” Georgia settled into her chair, her shrewd eyes softening with concern as she stirred cream into her own coffee with practiced precision. “And right now, you’re reading like a woman who hasn’t slept properly in days. The weather’s not helping either, I’d bet.”
I glanced at the rain-streaked window, watching droplets race down the glass. “I’ve always hated cloudy days,” I admitted. “They make everything feel… heavier somehow. Like the sky is pressing down on all my worries.” Like the weight of Rory’s silence , I didn’t add.
“Mmm,” Georgia hummed sympathetically, the sound almost lost beneath her desktop humidifier’s gentle whir. Another raindrop traced down the window, and I followed its path with my finger against my coffee mug’s warm surface.
My wedding band caught the light, the gold seeming duller today. The matching set Rory had gotten for all of us last Christmas – his idea, always the romantic one. Now I couldn’t even get him to answer a text. The memory of his enthusiasm when he’d presented them made my chest ache.
“The office has been buzzing all morning,” I said instead of voicing my real concerns. “Everyone is trying to figure out why Scarlett’s been gone so long for just a funeral, what’s really going on, why Graham went with her. I must have fielded twenty different versions of ‘Is she okay?’ before I even got to my desk.”
The coffee warmed my hands but did little to chase away the chill of worry that had taken up residence in my bones. My phone sat silent in my pocket – no messages from Rory, again. When had silence become louder than words?
Georgia’s expression shifted to something softer, more maternal. The gentle clink of her spoon against china punctuated her thoughtful pause. “You know, I was married once, years ago. Long before I started working here. And I remember times when he’d get wrapped up in a big case - he was a prosecutor - and he’d go so distant I’d swear I was living with a ghost.”
My throat tightened at her words. Wasn’t that exactly what was happening with Rory? But this felt different somehow. Worse.
“Men, especially the good ones,” Georgia continued, leaning forward slightly, her voice carrying years of hard-earned wisdom, “they sometimes forget that pulling away to protect us actually hurts more than letting us share their burdens.”
“But Rory’s never been like this before,” I whispered, tracing the intricate patterns on my mug. The heat of the coffee inside on my fingertip grounded me as memories flooded back. “He’s always been our rock. The one insisting on family dinners, sending random silly texts during the day.” I swallowed hard. “Last week, Christian got this ridiculous message from him asking if we remembered to water the plants. But now”
My voice trailed off as I twisted the gold band on my finger. The metal was warm from my constant fidgeting. How many times had I caught myself doing this lately? Touching the ring like a worry stone, seeking comfort in its familiar weight.
“Men,” Georgia said sympathetically, though I caught the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. She’d been intrigued since learning about my unconventional relationship but never pried. I appreciated that about her - how she could acknowledge the uniqueness of our situation without making it feel like a spectacle.
“Have you talked to your other partners about it?” she asked gently.
The question made my chest tight. “Christian and Stewart think I’m overthinking things,” I admitted. The coffee in my hands had cooled, but I couldn’t bring myself to let go of the mug. It gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping away. “And maybe I am. Everything’s been so intense lately, with Jenny missing and Scarlett coming back”
A sharp knock interrupted us, and Cassandra appeared in the doorway, her perfectly pressed blazer and immaculate makeup reminding me of a gift-wrapped package trying too hard to impress. The click of her heels against the hardwood floor echoed my heartbeat as she stepped inside. Her expensive floral perfume - something trying desperately to smell French - wafted into the room, almost overwhelming Georgia’s subtle lavender diffuser.
“Mr. Clarke needs the quarterly reports for the Sports division,” she announced, smoothing her already perfect skirt. The eagerness in her voice when she said Graham’s name was almost painful to hear. I caught myself wondering - had I ever sounded that obvious about Rory?
“Of course he does,” Georgia sighed, her tone carrying years of affectionate exasperation. “Tell him he’ll have them within the hour.”
The door closed behind Cassandra, her heels click-clacking down the hallway like an overenthusiastic metronome. I couldn’t help but notice how Georgia’s eyes rolled skyward, the gesture so familiar it pulled a genuine laugh from me despite my worries. The sound surprised me - when was the last time I’d laughed like that?
“When did you get an assistant?” I asked, grateful for the momentary distraction from my own troubles. “I mean, I know you’re executive assistant to the director, but…”
Georgia settled back in her chair as thunder rumbled softly outside, the sound matching the storm of emotions I was trying to contain. “Graham hired her when he left with you all for Maddy’s funeral. Cassandra.” The way she pronounced the name made me grin - somehow managing to convey volumes about the situation in those three syllables. “She’s efficient enough, I suppose, when she’s not trying so hard to get Graham’s attention. The girl changes her outfit three times a day depending on his meeting schedule.”
I couldn’t help but smile, remembering my own early days here - though for very different reasons. “It’s almost sweet,” I mused, taking another sip of coffee. The rich aroma helped clear my head. “If it wasn’t so obvious. Graham hasn’t even noticed her, has he?”
“Oh, he’s noticed,” Georgia smirked, the expression making her look years younger. “He’s just very good at strategic obliviousness. Though I have to admit, watching him try to navigate around her increasingly creative attempts to ‘accidentally’ run into him has been the highlight of my week. Yesterday she managed to time her coffee run perfectly with his return from lunch - must have been watching the parking garage cameras.”
The laughter bubbled up before I could stop it, coffee nearly going down the wrong way. “Oh God, does she know about—”
“Scarlett? No.” Georgia’s eyes twinkled with mischief, crow’s feet crinkling at the corners. “Though I’d pay good money to see her face when she figures it out. You should see how she dresses when she knows Graham has morning meetings. The hemlines keep creeping up while the necklines plunge. I’m going to have to have a talk with her about appropriate office attire soon.”
The rain drummed harder against the windows as we dissolved into quiet laughter - the kind shared between women who know too much about office politics. For a moment, I could almost forget the weight of my own worries. Almost.
But then my phone buzzed in my pocket - another message from Christian about a late meeting, another silence from Rory - and reality crashed back in like the thunder rolling overhead.
“Poor thing,” I managed between lingering giggles, wiping tears from my eyes. “She has no idea what she’s up against.”
Georgia hummed in agreement, reaching for the French press. The rich coffee aroma rose again as she refilled our cups, mixing with her ever-present lavender in a way that had become synonymous with comfort in my mind. “I saw Graham this morning as Scarlett arrived, stepping off the elevator. If Cassandra thinks she can compete with that” She shook her head, then her expression turned serious. “They’re good for her, you know. All of them. I’ve never seen Scarlett so… centered. Even with everything that’s happening.”
The warmth of fresh coffee seeped through the ceramic into my hands as I considered her words. My engagement ring clinked softly against the mug, drawing my attention back to my own complicated relationship. The sight of it made my chest tight - four interlocking bands, symbolizing our connection. Now one piece felt… loose. Disconnected.
“She is different now,” I agreed softly. “Stronger.” Unlike me , I thought, falling apart because one of my partners isn’t texting enough .
Georgia studied me over the rim of her coffee cup, her maternal concern making my eyes burn with unshed tears. “How is Scarlett really doing? Graham tries to hide it, but I can tell he’s worried.”
I forced a small smile, grateful for the change in subject. “She’s stronger than any of us knew. And she has good support.” The words felt like ash in my mouth, bitter with irony. Here I was, with three partners - or was it still three? - and feeling more alone than ever.
“Yes, I’ve noticed that too,” Georgia said with a knowing look. “Graham’s been different since… well. Different in a good way.” We both remembered how he’d changed after Scarlett’s attack, how his carefully maintained corporate facade had developed cracks of genuine emotion.
Thunder rolled outside as comfortable silence fell between us. The morning sun briefly broke through the clouds, streaming through Georgia’s window and warming the cozy space that had become my refuge from the chaos of recent weeks. Even Cassandra’s predictable heel-clicks passing by had become oddly comforting - a steady rhythm in my increasingly unstable world.
“Speaking of different,” Georgia said carefully, setting her cup down with a gentle clink that seemed to echo my heartbeat. “Tell me more about what’s going on with Rory. Sometimes an outside perspective helps, especially with… unique relationship dynamics.”
My throat closed up as all the fears I’d been trying to suppress came rushing back. The unanswered texts. The empty chair at dinner. The way he’d look through me rather than at me when we did cross paths. I opened my mouth to respond, but a knock at the door saved me from having to voice my darkest fears.
Scarlett appeared in the doorway, the subtle scent of her perfume - something light and expensive that always reminded me of spring mornings - drifting into the room. “There you two are,” she said, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor as she approached. “Hey, who’s the new girl on the mezzanine? The one in the pencil skirt who keeps walking past Graham’s office?”
I exchanged glances with Georgia, grateful for the interruption despite the amusement bubbling up at Scarlett’s question. I could feel fresh laughter threatening to escape as Georgia explained, her tone carefully neutral, “That would be Cassandra. My new assistant. Graham hired her while you were away at Maddy’s funeral.”
“Oh,” Scarlett said, seemingly oblivious to our poorly hidden smiles. “Well, I’m heading up to Graham’s office to go over some things. April, could you bring up Brody’s file? We need to review the PR strategy for his next fight.”
“Of course,” I replied, perhaps too quickly, grateful for the excuse to dodge the conversation about Rory. My ring felt suddenly heavier on my finger, like it was trying to remind me of everything I might be losing. “I’ll be right up.”
After Scarlett left, Georgia and I looked at each other and burst into fresh giggles, the sound echoing off the rain-streaked windows. For a moment, I could pretend everything was normal.
“Should we warn her?” I asked as I gathered my things, the manila folder feeling crisp and professional in my hands - such a contrast to the emotional mess I felt inside.
Georgia shook her head, eyes twinkling as another peal of thunder rolled outside. “I think this might be more fun to watch unfold naturally. Besides, Graham knows how to handle it.”
I stood, still grinning despite the worry gnawing at my gut. “True. Though I almost feel bad for Cassandra. Almost.”
Pausing in the doorway, I watched Scarlett make her way toward Graham’s office, her natural grace making Cassandra’s studied movements seem almost comical in comparison. Below us, the office hummed with its usual rhythm - phones ringing, keyboards clicking, life going on despite all our private dramas.
My fingers found my ring again, seeking comfort in its solid presence. Georgia was right - relationships took work, especially complicated ones. But as I watched Scarlett disappear into Graham’s office, Cassandra’s crestfallen expression visible even from this distance, I couldn’t help but wonder. What happened when the work wasn’t enough? When one person stopped trying?
The weight of my phone in my pocket - still silent, still no word from Rory - felt like an anchor dragging me down into depths I wasn’t sure I could survive.