33. Space for Dreams
33
SPACE FOR DREAMS
CHARLES
My mind is completely distracted as the head of finance at Elixir goes over quarterly profits. His presentation slides with numbers and pie charts in green, red, and blue blend into a blur on my computer screen.
I pick up my phone once again and reread the text from the doctor this morning.
Doc: There’s nothing to worry about, Mr. Hawthorne. Mrs. Hawthorne doesn’t have any deficiencies. I suggested she take it easy in the coming days, and although you don’t need any instructions, a part of my job is to remind you to make sure your wife is happy.
What does he mean by that?
Does he think she’s unhappy?
I’m almost tempted to ask, but what kind of husband would that make me? Shouldn’t I already know if my wife is happy or not?
Stop pretending like you don’t.
Out of habit, I glance out the glass wall and nearly spill my coffee over the keyboard when I find her seated at her desk.
How long has she been there?
“Fuck!”
“Do you have a question, Charles?” Ray asks, and I realize I’ve interrupted the entire meeting.
“No, everything sounds good so far. Please continue.”
This time, I remember to mute myself before turning my attention back to my wife. Unlike other days, she hasn’t turned on her PC, going through her emails and making a task list. Instead, today she’s simply staring at the monitor, her status on the company network still unavailable on my screen.
I watch as she bites her lip, looks down at something on her lap for a long moment before her gaze flicks toward me.
My heart catapults out of my body when our eyes meet.
That’s insane. She can’t see me, but I can see everything. Every trace of worry, every line of panic etched on her face digs into my heart.
Daisy closes her eyes, squares her shoulders, and then returns her attention to the monitor. The arrow of my mouse hovers over the blue icon, the one I’ve never used until now. It was just for security reasons when Nick, the head of IT, installed software on my PC allowing me live access to any screen on the company network.
I push away the guilt, making room for worry, and type Daisy Price-Hawthorne into the search bar of the app.
She’s looking at my calendar.
Not just looking, but trying to find an open slot. But fuck, I’m booked solid until eight PM.
She’s my wife. She should never have to check my calendar just to talk to me.
“Sorry, gentlemen, but I need to step out,” I announce, interrupting Ray mid-question.
There’s a moment of silence. No one leaves a quarterly financial review, at least not unless someone’s dying or bleeding.
“Is there something more urgent than this?” Ray’s tone is clipped.
“Believe me, there is.” I hit the red button and exit the meeting.
My rapid heartbeat is in sync with my footsteps as I walk out of my office.
“Charles.” Daisy jerks in her seat when I stop next to her desk. Her gaze flies from my face to the monitor. “The meeting ended early?”
“I stepped out.”
“You stepped out of Elixir’s quarterly financial review? Why?” Her jaw falls open.
Say something.
Fast.
Say anything, dammit.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Charles, I was hammered, not sick.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “If anything, I should be embarrassed. I’m so sorry for the previous night.”
“I’d say you did a good job at shutting down the mayor and the whole being-pregnant rumor mill.”
But her face falls at my lighthearted comment, not just in worry but in sheer panic.
I thought I was becoming an expert at reading her, but right now, her emotions are like a pop quiz for a subject I didn’t study.
She leans in to grab something from her desk—a plain white notepad—when I spot something wrong. She isn’t wearing a hair clip today!
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Can we talk?” she asks instead, circling her desk and nodding toward my office. The rare serious cadence of her tone doesn’t help in calming my nerves.
A few moments later, we both settle on the leather couch, which has been a witness to so many unforgettable conversations.
Today might be another of such days. I can already feel the shift in the air to something heavy and ominous.
“Is it about work?” I don’t even fucking care about the hopeful tone of my voice.
Daisy slowly shakes her head, plunging my heartbeat to the lowest notch. When I think something dreadful is coming my way, her lips curl into a smile. I follow her gaze to the golden desk plaque that my cousins gifted me.
Charles Hawthorne.
CEO of the Hawthorne Empire. Fucking Finally!
“I’m so happy you finally got what you deserved, Charles. Congratulations once again.”
Her words are like an olive branch, and I grab it with both hands.
“You are the one person who doesn’t need to congratulate me, Daisy. This wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
“So your plan worked. We both got what we wanted out of this arrangement.”
“We did.” I steel my spine, ignoring the voice in my head that is screaming at me to put an immediate stop to this conversation.
“In that case, how soon can we end this and go our separate ways?”
There’s a deafening silence in the room followed by her low but controlled words. There’s a pain in my chest, as if someone is crushing my heart into tiny, sharp pieces. It takes me several beats to find my voice.
“What’s the rush?”
When I proposed this crazy idea to her months back, I’d thought this would be just like any other business deal. Then why does it feel like I’ve lost everything when on paper, I have everything I’ve ever wanted.
“I can’t do this anymore, Charles.”
“Do what exactly?” This strange emotion in my chest finds escape in the most unsuitable form. She’s the last person I should snap at.
But this is Daisy Price-Hawthorne. A girl who has never taken shit from me.
“To name a few things—cheating everyone, lying to our families and friends. I’m slowly forgetting what’s real and what’s fake. I’m sorry, I thought I could, but I can’t do it anymore, Charles.” Her hands quiver as she grips the notepad tightly on her lap, but it’s her voice that scares me. There’s a finality in it.
“What if it’s not fake?”
Daisy’s brown eyes widen and lock with mine. I feel like I’m reaching her, reminding her of all the moments since the day I made the proposal, until she jerks herself back.
“Fooling ourselves will only lead to more pain, Charles. You and I can never be real together. We are too different, and so are our aspirations in life. But it’s my responsibility to make sure that my dreams have the space and chance they deserve.”
I hate that I understand her every word. I fucking married her for my dreams, so how can I ignore hers?
“I don’t know how this works with a contract marriage. Do we sign some papers, or do we officially apply for a divorce?” She glances up at me from the table. “In any case, let’s get it over with fast so we both can move forward with our lives.”
But she doesn’t know there is no forward for me without her. Unknowingly, she’s become my beacon of happiness, and once she’s gone, my life will once again become a circular monotonicity. I’ll be living the same loop again and again.
“I need this, Charles.” There’s a quiver in her voice when I don’t say anything for several minutes, but I find myself nodding in response.
For the first time since we got married, she’s asked for something for herself.
How can I say no to that?
I tap away all the emotions bursting inside me that want me to pull her closer and whisper in her ear that I’m never letting her go and I don’t care about any law.
“I’ll have the papers ready in the next couple of days. You’ll no longer be tied to me.” Those are the hardest words I’ve uttered in a long while. “But can I ask you not to make the news about our divorce public for now, and if possible, wait for a while before you go out…on any dates.” My fists clench as I imagine her with someone else. Someone who would make her happier. It’s as if all my nightmares have suddenly come alive right in front of my eyes.
Daisy looks up at me with a horrified expression.
“I’ll never do any such thing, Charles. Until you’re ready to make the announcement, I’ll be Daisy Price-Hawthorne.”
Her gaze drops from my face back to the table. We both remain seated in silence. I try to fill it with words, but suddenly I have nothing to say—no plans for a common future, no excitement for the present.
Finally, she rises, her heels clicking in my office. The sound used to be exciting, but now it tightens a noose of pain around me with every beat. But before she can leave, I call her name, and Daisy looks over her shoulder.
“What are you planning to do now?” She’s definitely no longer staying as my assistant. There’s no point in even asking that.
“I don’t know.” Daisy shrugs. “Do you remember when you first offered me the marriage contract, you suggested I could see the world? Maybe I’ll do that. I can leave Dad alone for a while, since Kai is taking such good care of him.”
I’ve never seen anyone sadder than her while talking about world travel.
“If you need time, take it, Daisy. We don’t have to decide anything right now.” I don’t even bother hiding the pathetic hope behind my voice, but she simply shakes her head in response.
“All I need is a divorce, Charles. And as soon as possible.” She leaves my office while I’m fixed in place.
All my lifelong fears have come true.
I’ve never been enough to make anyone happy. Why did I think Daisy would be an exception?