Chapter 11 #2
She glances back and then stops. It appears to take all her effort to reorganize her expression to make a smile reappear.
She blinks twice and then replies, “Just saying what could have happened, not that it did. You grabbed me before I made a fatal mistake. My point is that not everyone would have helped.” Raising her arm out of upset, she continues, “Most people would rather stand around and film someone than help.” Her stance relaxes as her grin returns.
“But not you. You jumped in to save me without thinking.” Walking back to me, she gets so close to me that I must look down to see her eyes.
With her hands placed on my chest with care, she swallows.
Even on the loud streets of Manhattan, it’s heard, but I don’t point it out, refusing to embarrass her.
“I didn’t think there was any hope that you were inherently good beneath that asshole exterior. I’m so glad to be wrong.”
Not sure what to say to that, I reply, “Thank you. I guess.”
We start to stroll again. This time, our pace is a little slower, the company not as maddening as usual. We round the corner and walk to the middle of the block, stop in front of the doors, and then look at each other. She asks, “Why did you bring me to your office?”
A subtle ribbon of offense passes through her words. “I need to check on something.”
“What?”
She’s starting to sound like a wife. My father told me to never marry.
Not to keep me from a broken heart but to save me from being nagged.
My mother barely spoke to him, so I always wondered if he was referring to a girlfriend he had on the side.
I spent years studying couples I was around to understand what marriage is supposed to be like, versus the version I was shown.
What I found was the same wherever I would go.
Happiness isn’t found in a piece of legal paperwork.
I don’t know where it’s found, actually, but her questioning me like I owe her an answer strikes a familiar nerve, making me hear my dad in my head again. Walls I didn’t know I had lowered start to rise as I level my eyes on her. “It’s none of your business, Delaney.”
Stepping away from her, I open the door and enter the lobby. The guard behind the counter isn’t someone I’ve seen before. I walk up to the desk already pulling out my wallet. “I’m Warner Landers.”
He swivels in his chair back and forth, then crosses his arms over his chest. “And?”
Okay. “See that lettering on the marble behind you. The one that says Landers Ventures? I’m the Landers in that title.”
“Oh.” Standing like I ordered him to, he scrambles to grab his hat from the desk and put it on his head. “Sorry, sir. How can I help you?”
“I need a key card to my office. I left home without mine.” I hold out my ID for him to inspect. I don’t do it because he asked, which he should have. I do it because it’s protocol, and I always follow the rules.
I balance my wallet against my cast on the counter and shove the ID back into it with my left hand. Once it’s securely back in my pocket, I take the key card he set down on the counter and say, “Thanks.”
I expect to see Delaney waiting nearby, but when I turn back, she’s nowhere to be seen, not even outside where I left her. She probably wants me to chase her, but I’m finally in a place where I can get answers. I take a step toward the door, but I stop myself from going any farther.
She’s kept me from finding out the truth at every turn. I’m not even convinced that my phone walked off by itself, like she claims. She seems to thrive when I’m embarrassed and is always orbiting me like she’s the rings to my Saturn.
The elevator dinging on arrival is a stronger pull, and I jog to catch it just before the doors close again. As soon as I punch the button and the doors close, I feel bad, worse for leaving her behind, and not looking for her at all.
I’m not her sitter, just like she’s not my handler. This strange relationship needs to be defined. The truth be told, we need to work from a factual starting point. And there’s only one way for that to happen.
The doors slide open, and I step out into the waiting room of Landers Ventures.
I tap the universal key card to open the next door and work my way through a mostly empty office to mine on the far side of the open concept room.
It is worth noting that a few workers are still scattered around; a bonus will be given in the near future.
I can be a hard-ass in business, but staying after hours and putting in the extra effort is the way to my heart.
If she were here, I’m sure Delaney would be more than happy to point out that my chest is hollow of any major organ or emotions. A few days ago, I would have quickly agreed. Now, I’m not as certain. I sure have been feeling a lot of everything when I’m with her.
I look back as if I’ll suddenly see her coming through the door when I know that’s impossible. She’d never be given a key. She already made her choice earlier. She did what was best for her. I’m going to do the same.
Opening my office door, I flip on the light and rush to my desk to pull up the contacts on my computer. As soon as I find the number, I pick up the interoffice intercom phone on my desk and call my attorney.
“Warner, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, his jovial nature, which I’ve always found strange for a lawyer to have, booming through the speakerphone.
I sit in my chair and lean back to avoid the blasting of his voice. “Thanks for answering.”
“Anytime. I’m always here for you.” He chuckles. “That’s why you paid that big retainer fee.”
Not finding the same humor in his so-called joke, I say, “I didn’t forget. Hey, Richard, I have a question for you.” All I’m doing is seeking the truth. So why do I feel like I’m betraying Delaney?
The pause extends as I debate whether to hang up or push forward.
“Warner? You still there?”
“I’m still here, yeah,” I start again. “I know this sounds unlike me or anyone since this is something a person would know. Ignore that. I’m not going into details at this juncture.”
“Intriguing.”
“I called because I need to know if I have a prenup in place.”
This time, the pause is on his end. My heart rate picks up as I wait silently, impatient for his reply.
He says, “As in active?”
I sit forward. “Yes.”
“Did you get married and not tell me?”
I stare at the phone as if I were staring at Delaney. Confused. Deceived. Conned. Stupid. I swallow down the last speck of pride I was holding on to and say, “Thank you, Richard. That’s all I needed to know.”
“Okay. Anytime. Have a good one.”
“You, too,” I mumble, standing and walking to the window. I used to love this view, but I’d grown tired of it more recently, tired of everything in my life. It’s been gray buildings and little sunshine since I moved into my father’s office.
It’s gone dark outside, but I finally see the light.
I don’t know who this Delaney Landers is or why she’s pretending to be my wife, but it’s time to flip the script and find out the truth.
I turn off the light and head back out. There are so many ways to handle this, but one thing keeps playing on repeat in my head. Let the games begin . . .