two
“A UTUMN, I NEED YOU !”
The familiar refrain in the familiar male voice breaks through my heavy reverie. “Yes?” I’ve been sitting in a leather side chair in Edmund’s bedroom, working on my laptop while he rummages through his closet.
He always claims to want to do his own packing but will eventually get frustrated and let me do it for him instead. So I’m waiting for him to give up.
He emerges from the closet with an armful of clothes. “How much do you think I should bring?”
“Not that many shirts. You’ve got exactly feet of closet space since you decided on the smaller boat, and I’m not giving you any of mine.”
“I’ll need a couple of weeks’ worth of clothes at least, won’t I?” He blinks at me with an endearing kind of blankness.
“Not really. I can do our laundry on the boat, so you won’t need very much. You won’t be happy with a lot of extra stuff cluttering up your cabin. Stick to four or five days’ worth of clothes and no more than three pairs of shoes.”
He huffs and dumps his armful of clothes on the bed. “Do you mind packing for me? You always know what I’ll want.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Sure.”
“You mad?” He peers at me, and for a moment his expression is observant. Almost sharp, if that adjective can ever be applied to him.
“Of course not. But I did recommend I do your packing, and you said you could do it.”
“I could do it. But you’d only redo it afterward, so you might as well do it from the start.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You seem mad.”
“I’m not mad.” When he clearly doesn’t believe me, I add, “I’m feeling kind of impatient and frustrated. We had everything planned to take the larger yacht with a crew and domestic staff. Then you changed your mind at the last minute and caused a lot of people a lot of last-minute scurrying. Including me.”
“Yeah, I know.” He sighs and sits down on the edge of his bed, wrinkling the beautifully folded duvet. “But the point of this cruise is to get away from everything, and so the fewer people hovering, the better.”
“I get that. But is it really going to be as relaxing as you’re hoping when you have to pilot the boat entirely on your own?”
“It’ll be fine. I love sailing.”
“I know you do.” I sigh. “If you really want to be alone, you could always go by yourself.”
He stares at me as if he’s utterly dumbfounded.
He clearly can’t even fathom my not being here to make his life run smoothly. He can’t even imagine spending months alone on a sailboat without me.
“I just meant,” I say slowly, “that if you really want to be alone—”
“I can be alone with you.”
Well. Isn’t that a flattering sentiment? “Lovely,” I mutter dryly.
“You know what I mean.” He reaches over and very lightly touches my forearm. “It’s been months now, the whole time I was dating Kontessa, that it feels like I’ve been surrounded by people on all sides. Paparazzi and fans and security staff and... and people. People everywhere. I just need some time without people everywhere, even just a few. I’m used to you, so it doesn’t feel like you’re invading my space.”
I understand exactly what he’s telling me. For the six months he dated Kontessa, everywhere we went was a circus. Nothing was ever private or quiet or even mostly tame. He broke up with Kontessa a few weeks ago, a month after we found him on the floor, high from that drug. The breakup might have been a deep relief to me, but the entire relationship was difficult and stressful for Edmund, and I don’t blame him for wanting to get away for a while.
The truth is Edmund isn’t the only one who needs a break. I was happy about his initial plan for a leisurely, -month cruise down the Pacific coast, but then he changed his mind at the last minute and so we lost the staff that would make the trip a relaxing one for me.
“Okay. I do get it. But if we’re not bringing the crew and the staff, it’s going to be more work. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”
He blinks at me again. Way too good-looking. Way too rich and adored and blessed. “But I’ve got you for that.”
Of course he does.
I take care of him, and his life runs smoothly.
And my life never even gets started.
***
A FEW HOURS LATER, I’m sitting behind my desk in Edmund’s home office.
Edmund doesn’t actually have any real work to do. His father was one of the Worthings, a widely branching billionaire family whose fortunes keep growing because of wise business decisions. His parents died when he was fifteen, leaving him more money in a trust than he could possibly spend.
He was so young when he lost them. What would anyone expect an orphaned teenage billionaire to do? He had fun. Went wild.
And fifteen years later, he’s matured but he hasn’t fully stopped.
So he doesn’t actually use his home office for anything except holding his computer and some paperwork he needs in files. When I asked if I could get a desk in there too, he was perfectly happy to oblige.
Basically the office is mine.
I’ve been feeling heavy—low in my gut—for the hours since that conversation with Edmund over packing. I recognize the feeling.
It’s dread. Bleak knowledge. The reluctant recognition of something that has to happen that I’m scared of.
I’m not sure why his bland assurance that I’ll always be here to take care of him drove it home for me, but it did.
It’s time.
It’s long since past time.
I unlock the top drawer in my desk and pull out a sealed envelope. Inside is my resignation letter.
I first wrote the letter more than a year ago. I printed it off, signed it, and sealed it in an envelope. Then second-guessed myself and stuck it in this drawer instead of giving it to him.
Every couple of weeks for the past year, I’ve reprinted it. Re-signed it. And sealed it into a new envelope.
I could never quite do it. Quit this job and start my life for real. My parents never regained the wealth they lost, but they’re stable now. They don’t need me to support them. So there’s absolutely no reason for me to keep this job except that quitting feels like a betrayal of Edmund.
But staying on any longer is a betrayal of me. I don’t want to spend my entire life as a personal assistant.
I want to accomplish something. Use my skills and gifts and talents. I want for me to define my life rather than him .
So I give a little nod and stand up, taking the letter as I leave my office. Edmund is down in the basement, working out in his home gym. When he’s done, he’ll return to his bedroom to shower and change.
I walk slowly upstairs, enter his bedroom, and place the letter on the corner of the bed after I smooth out the plush duvet.
My reflection in the large wall mirror startles me even though I look the way I always look. Average height. Curvy body. Reddish-brown hair. Dark brown eyes. Freckles. Dressed in black pants and a simple gray top. Never making a show. Always hoping to fade into the background.
I stare down at the envelope resting on the fabric. My stomach churns, and my heart races.
But I’m absolutely sure this is right.
I’m only twenty-eight years old. I still have most of my life to turn into what I want. But if I don’t act now, I’m going to be fifty and still scurrying around in Edmund Worthing’s shadow.
I’m not going to do it.
So I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving my resignation letter on his bed.
***
T WENTY MINUTES LATER , I’m still shaky and kind of sick, so I wander outside in an attempt to distract myself and create more distance between me and that letter.
Edmund has lived in his parents’ mansion all his life. There are ten bedrooms and way more space than he’d ever need, but he’s never even considered selling it or moving somewhere else. The large double doors in the front lead out onto wide, shallow steps that then narrow into a cobblestone walk down to the large loop of the driveway.
At the end of the walk, I see a big, broad-shouldered figure. Caleb, who’s been supervising Edmund’s extra security ever since he started dating Kontessa.
I like Caleb. He’s a quiet, kind, competent man. He’s also quite handsome with his blue eyes and square jaw. Personally, I prefer Edmund’s more finely chiseled features and leaner body, but it’s entirely possible I might have had a few flickers of interest toward Caleb if he wasn’t so clearly in love with his fiancée.
Smiling as I approach, I say, “I bet you’re ready for us to finally get on the boat tomorrow so you can go home.”
Caleb lives in Maine, but he’s been flying out here regularly for the past six months. My question is somewhat difficult to answer diplomatically, and he doesn’t even try. “Is he going to be ready?”
“I think so. I got him packed earlier, and he’s not planning to go out tonight, so I don’t think a hangover should get in the way. He seems really set on being alone for a couple of months.”
“Are you ready?” Caleb’s expression is observant. Almost unnervingly so.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to be.”
“I wish you could have talked him out of ditching the crew and switching to a smaller boat.”
“Yeah, me too. I did try. But he won’t be budged. He’s so laid-back and flexible most of the time, but every once in a while, he’ll dig his heels in. When he does, he’s absolutely unmoving.”
“Sounds like a Worthing.” Caleb’s fiancée is a Worthing—one of Edmund’s cousins—so he would know this family characteristic as well as anyone. “But try to keep him in one piece if you can.”
“He’s excellent at sailing. He’s been doing it all his life.”
“I know he has. It’s not his skill I’m questioning. It’s his judgment.”
“He’s got me for judgment.”
Caleb nods. “Yeah. I know. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”
I shrug, wondering vaguely what Edmund will do when I’m gone. Someone else will have to take care of him, or he’ll have to figure out how to do it himself. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. I’m not sure what he’d have done for these last six years if you hadn’t been there to keep him put together.”
I’m not sure either. When I first started working for him, he was young. He was out partying nearly every night and sleeping until midafternoon. He didn’t travel. He didn’t have any real hobbies. He had nothing to occupy his time but socializing and drinking himself into oblivion.
He’s not the same now. He spends most of his time having fun, but it’s not all empty partying. He’s healthier. He’s in better shape. He rarely gets drunk. And he doesn’t waste all his money.
I still think he’d probably be happier if he had a larger purpose for his days—if not a career then a cause that he could pour himself into—but at least he’s not still acting like a boy.
“He’s not going to have me forever,” I murmur with a crack in my voice. I’m not sure why I even say that. Just that the resignation letter I left for Edmund is burning a hole in my mind.
Caleb has been scanning the horizon, but he cuts his eyes back over to me with a small jerk. “You thinking of leaving?”
I give a very slow nod.
He lets out a breath. “Well, shit.”
I have no idea how to respond to that, but I don’t actually need to. Because I hear a muffled roar from inside the house.
Caleb meets my eyes, and we share a silent acknowledgment.
The roar sounds again after another minute. This one still muffled by distance but now close enough to identify the word. “Autumn!”
I let out a long, slow breath. It’s happening now. No stopping it. And I’m sure it’s right.
If only I didn’t feel so sick to my stomach.
“Autumn, what the hell!” The bellow is coming from the front of the house.
I turn and see Edmund pushing open both doors at the same time. When he sees me, he strides down the stairs. “What the fucking hell, Autumn!”
He’s moving fast down the front walk, waving a folded piece of stationery.
I brace myself, squaring my shoulders and summoning my will. In the past, Edmund has been able to talk me out of doing things I’d wanted or planned, and I can’t let that happen this time.
Yes, it feels like I’m abandoning him. Betraying him. Leaving him when he needs me and trusts me.
But he’s not the only one who matters.
I matter too.
“What the fuck is this?” he demands as he approaches me. He looks outraged—and also utterly bewildered.
“You know what it is,” I reply quietly.
“But... but... why?” His forehead is slightly damp under the big, thick wave of hair that always falls forward over his brow. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s breathing heavily.
I lick my lips nervously until I realize what I’m doing. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want to do this job forever. I want—”
“What do you want? I’ll raise your salary again. I’ll buy your parents a new house.”
“That’s not what I want. I want a real career and a life where I accomplish something. Do some real good.”
“You can accomplish something with me.” He’s managed to swallow down the hurt and indignation and has turned on his charm. Aimed it right at me. “I know how smart and capable you are, but you can use those things with me. You can do good with—”
“No, I really can’t,” I blurt out. “I pack your bags and plan your schedule and make your calls. I want to make a difference in the world and do it on my terms.”
“Then we can change your job description. What kind of difference in the world do you want to make? We can—”
“Edmund, please.” I’m not loud, but I’m blunt. It breaks the momentum of his attempt to woo me away from my decision. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to keep working for you.”
For some reason, my words actually get through to him. I see them slice into his consciousness. Stunning him. Freezing him.
I’ve been one of those nice, quiet people all my life, doing whatever task is set before me without complaint and trying to stay out of other people’s way. I’ve never once felt that I’ve really hurt another person.
Not until right now.
Because I’ve hurt Edmund. I can see it so clearly in the pained disbelief in his expression. In his stance. It’s like he’s suffered a physical blow.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper hoarsely, glancing away because I simply can’t stand to see that expression on his face. “But this is what’s right for me.”
Caleb has stepped back slightly, obviously attempting to withdraw from a conversation he’s not a part of and doesn’t want to be pulled into.
Edmund finally manages to clear his throat and blinks a few times. “What will you do?”
I shrug. “I don’t actually know. Go back to grad school, I guess. Figure out exactly what I want to do with my life.”
“I can help you with grad sch—”
“Edmund, no.”
He drops his eyes. Takes a long, slow breath. “When will you leave?”
This is really happening. If Edmund has accepted it, there’s absolutely nothing to stand in my way.
I’ll have to leave him.
I’ll have to figure out who the hell I even am without him.
I have a sudden urge to take it all back, to pretend it never happened, but I fight through the impulse because I know that’s my weakness and not what’s best for me. “I’ll stay through the cruise. No more than months. But after that, I’ll be gone.”
Edmund gives a stiff nod.
Caleb slants me a look. I know what it means.
Way to make the next months alone with Edmund awkward as hell.