17. Spencer
Chapter 17
Spencer
I feel terrible for hurting Delilah. Her ex’s deceitfulness was something I couldn’t hide from her, but I still hated myself for it.
When she told me she was going to be sick, I led her to my private bathroom, where she bent over the toilet and proceeded to dry-heave. She asked me to give her a moment, so I closed the door on my way out, and that’s when I heard her break down. My heart tore in two as I rested my forehead against the doorframe and listened. I desperately wanted to go in there and wrap her in my arms, but ultimately decided against it. I may not have been the man who had cheated and lied to her for years, but it was my actions that led to her distress.
At least twenty minutes passed before she exited. When she did, her eyes were red and puffy, but her spine was straight, her shoulders pinned back, and her chin was lifted. She approached my desk, collected the file, and left my office without another word. The resilience and strength of this woman continues to astound me.
She was quiet for the rest of the afternoon, just going about her day. When five rolled around, she popped her head in and said she was heading back to the apartment. “I’ll see you when you get home,” were her exact words.
I had planned on leaving with her, but got the feeling she didn’t want that. When my father’s infidelities were revealed, and my life temporarily imploded, I remember wanting space. A chance to accept the things you cannot change, and to deal with them the best you can. Only then was I able to move forward, and she will too.
This morning, though, was a new day, and after a restless sleep, I needed to see her before I left. Instead of going into the office early, I’ve ordered some breakfast to be brought to the apartment building, and I’m now sitting and waiting for her to emerge from her room. As far as I know, she didn’t eat dinner last night, so I want to get some food into her before we leave.
When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I slide it out of my suit jacket and look down at the screen. I’m surprised to see it’s her calling.
“Delilah.”
“Mr Prescott. I know this is late notice, but would it be possible for me to take the morning off?”
Standing, I cross the room and enter the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I stop outside her door and lift my hand, wrapping my knuckle against the wood.
I don’t call out her name, but I hear her hurried footsteps approaching a few seconds later. There’s a distinct click of the lock before it opens, and I’m in two minds about that.
The phone is still held to her ear as she says, “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you’d be at the office by now.”
“I wanted to travel in together today,” I reply, which is followed by a groan when I realise, like her, I’m still talking into the damn phone.
I end the call, slide it into my pocket, and hold my hand out to her. She takes it without hesitation. “Come, I’ve ordered you some breakfast. We can discuss this while we eat.”
I’m again struck by how small and delicate her hand feels wrapped in mine.
When we reach the table, I let her go and pull out her chair. “Sit.” I grab some plates from the cupboard and open the brown paper bags.
“Don’t give me much,” she says. “I’m not that hungry.”
“Did you eat last night?” She shakes her head in reply. “That’s what I thought.”
Ignoring her request, I fill her plate. I ordered a variety of breakfast crepes from one of my favourite restaurants, hash browns, that are made in-house, and some freshly chopped fruit.
I grin smugly as I place it down in front of her. “I said?—”
“I heard what you said, but I chose to ignore it … now eat.”
She rolls her eyes and picks up her fork. “I thought maybe your hearing was going … that happens when you’re old, you know.”
I bark out a laugh because I’d take her sass over the tears any day.
When I step into the elevator, I pull out my phone and text Damien.
Me: I’m going to drive myself to work this morning. I need you to hang around here … discreetly, of course. Delilah is taking the morning off, and I’m concerned about her. If she leaves the building for any reason, can you follow her from a distance? I need to know she’s safe.
Damien: So, basically you are asking me to spy on her and report back to you?
Smartarse. I chuckle to myself as I type my reply.
Me: Basically, yes.
Damien: Sure thing, boss.
I have no clue what is going on with her. Forcing her to eat a big breakfast only backfired in my face. Because every time I asked a question she didn’t want to answer, she shovelled more food into her mouth.
The interrogation went something like this:
“Are you going to confront them with the things I found?”
She shook her head as she chewed.
“Do you want me to keep digging?”
Another head shake.
“Why do you need the morning off?”
I sat there for a good minute waiting for her to swallow the food in her mouth before I got a reply.
“I have some things I need to do,” she answered, which was the most she spoke all morning.
“What things?” I probed.
“Stuff.”
Although her lack of information pissed me off, I ended up agreeing to her request and left for the office. I’ll have my assistant, Simone, sit in for her until she gets here. I can only hope she does. On the drive to work, my head was all over the place.
What if she doesn’t come back?
My morning is unproductive. It’s safe to say I’ve worked myself into a bit of a state. I’m currently pacing the floor in my office as I wait for an update from Damien. Delilah left the apartment half an hour ago and hopped on a bus. To where? Who the fuck knows?
I pull out my phone.
Me: Any updates?
Damien: Yes, she just entered a clinic in Darlinghurst.
Me: A clinic?
Damien: Yes. The signage out the front reads Better2Know.
I round my desk and take a seat, frantically typing that name into my search bar. When I see that it’s a clinic that specialises in comprehensive sexually transmitted infections, I sit back in my chair and blow out a long breath. No wonder she was reluctant to tell me where she was going.
She’s worried that she caught something from that piece of shit.
Fuck.
I lean forward and grab my phone.
Me: Thanks for the update. You can leave now.
Damien: You don’t want me to wait until she comes out?
Me: No.
As much as I want to be there for her, I need to respect her privacy with this one.
I asked Shay-lee to buzz me when Delilah arrived, and true to her word, she entered the building just before midday.
By the time she reaches my office, I’m sitting behind my desk, pretending to look busy and trying to act like I haven’t been going out of my mind for the past few hours.
“I’m here,” she says, popping her head into my office.
I casually glance up from my screen and observe how pale and spooked she looks. The sight tugs at my heart. Especially considering I now know where she’s been. That ex of hers needs his arse kicked, and I just might be the man to do it.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she answers, forcing out a smile.
“If you’re not feeling the best, Simone and I can handle it here.”
“No, I’m good. I want to stay busy.”
Of course, she does. The last thing she needs is to sit around and worry about what infectious diseases she may have.
Delilah did her best to steer clear of me for the rest of the day, so I gave her what she needed. She remained on my mind the entire time, though. The more I thought about everything this guy had put her through, the angrier I became. If it were up to me, I’d destroy that motherfucker. Starting by exposing his true self by plastering his infidelities to the world. Women need to know what they’re getting into with this one.
The only satisfaction I got from this ordeal is that Kayne’s doing the same thing to Abigail. Unlike the sympathy I hold towards her sister, though, there’s zero for her. In my eyes, it’s called karma. And what a vengeful bitch she can be.
When five rolled around, Delilah did a rinse and repeat of the previous day. And just like yesterday, I intended to leave with her, but again I stayed behind.
I gave her two hours, and then I headed home.
She is nowhere to be seen when I enter the apartment, but it’s just after seven, so I doubt she’s in bed. I’m heading across the room towards my home office to stow my briefcase when I spy the bottle of wine and an empty wine glass sitting on the kitchen island.
Placing my bag down, I head in that direction. I pick up the bottle and shake it, noting it’s also empty. That’s an awful lot of alcohol for someone of her size and stature. It immediately concerns me, so I head towards her bedroom.
Light shines from the gap at the bottom of her door, so I presume she’s still awake … or passed out. The latter thought only heightened my concern.
“Delilah,” I call out, knocking twice.
When there’s no answer, I grasp the doorknob and turn it. Thankfully, unlike this morning, it’s not locked.
I pop my head in but see no sign of her.
I’m crossing a line by entering her bedroom without an invitation, but under the circumstances, I feel it’s warranted. My concern for her well-being outweighs her privacy.
Her bed is neatly made, but I find her suitcase sitting open on top of the covers. Is she leaving? I was desperate to find her alternate accommodation a few days ago, but the thought of her going elsewhere now sets off a flurry of panic inside me.
The bathroom door is closed, so I move towards it and place my ear to the wood. The water is running, so I’m gathering she’s in the shower, but that’s not all I hear … she’s crying. Fuck. It’s not like I can walk in there. She could be naked, and that’s an image I do not need in my head. My imagination is already wreaking havoc with that one.
I turn and make my way towards her bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. It feels wrong being in here … even if it’s my house, but I want to stay close just in case.
My eyes move around the space. Is it weird I’ve never really seen this room up close? I remember coming in here when the interior designer gave me a tour, but I paid little attention. The main room, my office, and the master bedroom were my only priority.
Many minutes pass before Delilah finally exits the bathroom.
She jumps back in fright when she notices me sitting on her bed. “Shit, Spencer,” she squeals. “You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing in here?”
My gaze skims down the length of her body. Thankfully, she’s clothed. I didn’t consider the alternative when I waltzed in here and decided to wait. Her pink flannelette pyjamas have tiny white bunnies on them. She looks as cute as hell, but so much younger than her twenty-two years—like a damn teenager—and that makes all these impure thoughts I’ve been having of her seem wrong.
“I was concerned about you.”
Her hand flies to her neck like she’s clutching her non-existent pearls. “Me? Why?”
“I saw the empty bottle of wine on the kitchen island, Delilah.”
“Considering the things I’ve learnt over the past two days, you can’t exactly hold that against me.”
“I don’t,” I reply honestly. “It’s the amount of alcohol, and the short time frame that you consumed it that concerns me.”
“I’m a big girl, Spencer. I can handle it.”
“But you are not ‘a big girl’,” I grumble, air quoting the last three words with my fingers.
Her eyes slightly narrow. “I’m almost twenty-two. I’ve been at the legal drinking age for four years.”
“Again, it’s not your age, Delilah. A person’s size, if determined by height and body mass, can influence his or her blood alcohol concentration.” In saying that, she seems to be handling this better than I expected.
“As you can see, I’m fine,” she gripes, dramatically extending her arms wide to prove her point, but it does the complete opposite. The sudden jerky movement puts her off balance and has her drunk arse stumbling.
I leap to my feet and scramble forward to grasp hold of her arm before she falls. “Yes, you seem fine,” I utter sarcastically.
“If you’re done playing, Dad, you can leave my room now.”
My grip remains firmly wrapped around her bicep as my free hand rises to pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not trying to be your parent. I’m worried about you.”
“Oh. ”
“Yes, oh,” I mumble as I let go of her and reach for her hand. As I start moving, I lightly tug on her arm to follow. “Come.”
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“To order you some food.”
“I’m not hungry,” she says, halting her steps and trying to tug her hand from mine.
I pause, not wanting her to lose her footing again. “This isn’t up for negotiation, Delilah.”
“You are not my dad; you can’t tell me what to do.”
I tilt my head back and glance up at the ceiling, counting to ten in my head. “Despite what you think, I’m not old enough to be your parent … I’m a concerned friend who is looking out for your well-being. There’s a difference.”
“So, you’ve finally accepted the breakup?”
“I never said that,” I reply, chuckling. I turn my body so I’m fully facing her, lightly grasping her chin between my pointer finger and thumb. “Please come and eat. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.” She swallows thickly as her eyes glisten, so I release my hold on her and wrap her gently in my arms. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now, but it will all work out in the end.”
“I hope you’re right,” she whispers into my chest.
“I’m always right,” I counter.
“Ugh,” she groans.