Chapter 23
Bonnie
I shut down my laptop in my home office, my mind racing. I took today off work, as it didn’t seem appropriate to be doing an interview with another company on Acercraft’s time, even though it only lasted thirty minutes and was conducted remotely via video conference.
The interview with the team at Xi-Gen went really well, considering it’s for a more senior role than I currently have.
Salary and perks-wise, it’s not even touching what I’ve got here with Acercraft, but if I get hired, they’ll offer a decent relocation package, which includes a long acceptance period and rent-free accommodation for the first three months. I couldn’t argue with that
I was surprised when I got invited for the interview two weeks after I emailed in my application.
The first couple of days after L.A., I called in sick because I couldn't bear to face Ethan, but I made myself grow some balls and go in on the third day. I went to see Jordan that morning to tell him about applying to Xi-Gen.He assumed I was leaving because I’d finally had enough of Ethan.
To be fair, I didn’t deny it because it’s true: I am leaving because of Ethan, just not for the reason Jordan thinks.
He promised to recommend me, and he must have pulled those strings quicker than I expected because a few days later, the invite for the interview came through. Surprisingly, it left a slightly bad taste in my mouth.
Could they be that eager to get rid of me here? Or was it Ethan’s doing?
I didn’t see Ethan at all that first week after L.A., and over the past three weeks, I’ve only seen him a couple of times in team meetings.
I has gotten really hard being in the same room with him. My skin would tingle and get hot, and the sheer effort of containing my nerves and not looking at him is so exhausting.
Thankfully, he’s been out of the office a lot on business trips to Europe. That used to be Jordan’s specialty, but they appear to have switched roles now.
Running away from Acercraft seemed like a good idea at the time when I couldn’t bear the thought of facing Ethan again. Now, I wonder if I overreacted, because I do love my job. And, although it seems crazy to admit, I miss him.
I didn’t realize how much the knowledge that he was somewhere in the building comforted me, especially when working late, until recently when he hasn't been there.
During the day, work gets me busy, and with the added workload of Dreadlite, I’m sufficiently distracted from thinking about Ethan. At home in the evening, though, I miss him terribly, which is surprising because before L.A. we hardly spoke beyond discussing work.
Apart from the one night we spent together, I’ve never been in the same room with him for more than half an hour, but try telling that to my mind while thoughts of him torture me.
I’ve caught myself countless times wondering what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with, if he’s thinking about me and missing me, too.
And no matter how much I try to avoid it, I wake up slick, sweaty, and unbearably turned on from dreaming about him and that morning at the Rivoire.
It was especially hard when I got that one single text from him.
Ethan: I’m here, Bonnie. If and when you need me. You have my cell number. You can send me personal emails on [email protected] , or come to me anytime at 89 Newlands Hill Drive, Greenwich CT 06831.
Anytime, Bonnie.
My first reaction was irritation.
I know for a fact from Sabrina that his home is a fifteen-thousand square-foot mansion that sits on a ten-acre plot, which probably looks like heaven given what his office looks like.
Why is he sending me his address, anyway? To dazzle me with his wealth?
It then occurs to me that I don't know the man beyond what I see in the office. Is he inviting me to know more about him? I remember the pictures in his office and how he seemed like a different person with his family, and with Sabrina. I’d felt excluded upon seeing them at the time, as if I wasn’t allowed to see that side of him.
I didn’t reply to the text, but I read it and looked up his address so much that I’m sure if I ever happen to sleepwalk, I would find myself there. The text has become a virus in my brain, turning me into a freaking zombie homing-pigeon.
When Brooke had her baby, I felt selfish for panicking, because all I could think of was being in a small, non-professional bubble with him. He’s not as close with Xavier as I am with Brooke, but surely, our paths were bound to cross with frequent visits.
So far, we haven’t met at Brooke's house, even though I’ve gone there many times. Brooke only lives ten minutes away from Acercraft, so I thought I’d focus my attention on Lily Rose rather than obsessing over Ethan.
I realized my mistake by my fourth visit in a row. It was nice enough with just Brooke and Lily Rose’s nanny, when Xavier had gone out of town for a few days. That evening, as Xavier had returned, it was us three with the baby. The simmering tension and attraction between Xavier and Brooke, which I’d always felt comfortable with before, became unbearable because it made me crave Ethan more.
I look at the closed laptop on my desk.
Did I do the right thing by pushing him away? What if I get the position with Xi-Gen?
I can’t even tell my friends about this job. I don't think I could take the grilling I know they’d give me, and it wouldn’t take long before I’d break down and confess everything.
Can I really move to Vancouver? Leave all my friends?
Your billionaire friends, you mean, the snarky voice accuses.
No, Stella is a normal girl. And come to think of it, so are Sabrina and Brooke. And Xavier and Jordan and Ethan. They all work their asses off! They don’t just laze around preying on the poor unlike the Sect wanted us to believe.
According to the Sect, “Poverty is piety and paradise is far from the corruption of wealth.”
Pah! I was dirt poor and closer to hell on the cold, dirty streets of Clonmel.
l get up and wander about the house, thinking of doing some evening grocery shopping.
Sabrina had been my go-to for comfort and exotic food. Cooking is one of her passions, and every so often, she’d make me one of her signature dishes. It was always satisfying having something from Sabrina to fall back on in case I didn’t feel like cooking or ordering in food.
Unfortunately, she’s been out of commission for the past few weeks, so I’m back to relying on my own food, which always tastes basic compared to the meatloaf, canalés, and filet mignons that my friend can whip out of thin air, or meals from nearby restaurants, which can get pricey fast.
I pop my head into the fridge, making a mental note of what I need when my phone rings.
It’s Twiggy.
“Yo, Twigs! What’s new?” I answer cheerfully.
“Siobhán.” He sighs. That’s weird, he hardly calls me that. His voice sounds flat and strained.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter, Twiggy?” I ask.
“Where are ya? Are ye home?”
Icy fingers of fear curl around my heart from his strange attitude. Twiggy is more than a friend. He's my brother and I know him like the back of my hand. Something is very wrong.
“Yes, I’m at home. What happened?”
Has he been caught hacking ? I keep telling him to stop, seeing as how he doesn’t need to hack any more, but he won’t listen…
“Love, how quick can ye get here?”
My heart starts to pound even harder. “To Dublin? I’ll have to check, but Twiggy—”
“No, lass, not Dublin. Clonmel.”
And I instantly know.
No. , no! I was going to see her later this month. I’ve got my ticket booked and everything.
“Please tell me that she’s going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry, love. She fell, and no one was around to find her.”
Horrible tendrils of dread surround me. How could this have happened again? I thought we put in the proper precautions after last time.
“What about her panic button? She wears it around her neck all the time!” I scream into the phone.
“She fell while inside the shower,” Twiggy explains.
“Oh, fuck, it’s my fault.” I knew I should have had an emergency pull cord installed in the bathroom when she fell the last time.
“Bonnie. Don’t be puttin’ this on yerself. It was a cruel twist of fate. An accident. It’s not yer fault.”
“Twiggy? Is Nan…”
“Aye, love. I'm so sorry. Found her meself when I dropped in. I called for help, but was already too late... she hit her head somethin' fierce.”
She was gone when Twiggy found her. Oh, God. Nan!
He keeps talking, but I don’t hear his words anymore. I crumple to the floor and bite on my fist to keep from crying out and alarming Twiggy. My face is already wet with tears, and an indescribable pain and guilt hacks away at my chest, hollowing it out with every silent sob.
“Bonnie?”
“Still here,” I finally manage to say in between taking deep, uneven breaths.
“Want me to sort a flight home for ya?” he asks.
Home. It sounds weird. I have a home, only it’s not home. It’s hell.
“No, I don’t want to go to hell… uh, home. Twiggy, I’ll call you back later, okay? I need to go.”
I run to the bathroom and promptly lose the little food I had in my stomach.
Oh, God. Nan is dead. She died. All alone in her bathroom.
I sit on my bathroom floor and cry. She was the only one I had, and now, she’s gone. She died all alone.
I curl myself tighter and tighter into a ball, as if doing so would shrink the pain and suffering overtaking my body. It doesn’t.
I don’t know how long I sit there for. I might have fallen asleep, but when I become aware of my surroundings again, my knees are cramped and my butt hurts. It’s dark outside and raining. It’s grown dark in the bathroom, too. My phone battery has died.
I sit for a long moment, remembering what happened to Nan, and a fresh wave of tears coats my already tear-stained face. My throat is itchy and sore. I stand gingerly, dragging myself to the bedroom and collapse heavily on my bed.
I don’t bother putting on the lights. The darkness reflects the state of my soul right now. I look around the world that Nan doesn’t exist in anymore.I feel so incredibly alone and bereft.
I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to eat. Right now, I only want…
Oh, God, my heart doesn’t quit.
I want Ethan. Only Ethan.
I just want his arms. I want to put my face against his skin and cry.
The need hits me so fiercely, and I have no strength left to deny myself. I’d scoffed at his motive for sending me his address earlier, but it’s the only lifeline I’ve got right now.
I want him to tell me it'll be okay. Or that it won't. I just want him.
I’m done resisting.
I change into jeans and boots and grab my helmet on the way out. It's dark, cold, and raining and I don’t even know if he’s in the country, but I’m not staying here one more minute.
When I reach Ethan’s Greenwich home, I’m sure I look like what the feral cat dragged in.
The gravelly voice on the intercom by the gate doesn’t confirm if he’s in or not, but I suppose with the floodlights that came on during my approach they’ve seen that the wet, shaking mess waiting outside is unlikely to pose any danger.
The gate swings open, and I start down the long driveway. The moonless sky turns the sprawling mansion into a beacon of hope in the darkness. I stop in the wide circular courtyard, where an abstract sculpture surrounded by a huge lighted fountain stands.
The grounds are impressive, and boxwood shrubs and fir evergreens dot the land as far as I can see. I see other smaller houses in the distance, which are also huge by all standards. The rest is obscured by the darkness and rain.
Ethan lives here?
More importantly, now that I’m here, what do I tell the man about why I came here? That I didn’t want to be alone, so I rode thirty miles in the rain to this place, hoping he’d let me stay?
I’ve barely managed to switch off the ignition, and I’m just getting off the motorbike when the massive front doors burst open and Ethan appears. My heart lurches as he walks quickly to me, his long legs eating up the ground between us.
I haven’t set eyes on him since last week in a meeting.
Oh, God, has he always been this big? He’s not wearing glasses. I don’t have time to notice more than that because suddenly, I’m in his arms.
“Bonnie? What’s the matter?”
I only dissolve into tears, so relieved to feel his strong arms around me again.
“Christ! You’re freezing.”
He swings me up and carries me in his arms and into the house while I bury my face in his neck and sob my heart out.
He takes us, still fully clothed, straight into the shower and under a stream of warm water. He puts me on my feet but stays with me under the warm spray.
“Bonnie, talk to me. Are you hurt?” He lifts my face to look at him.
Teeth chattering, I shake my head and whisper, “My…my Nan died today. I’m s-sorry, I just didn’t want to be alone. I wasn’t thinking…is…is this okay? I didn’t think—” I start crying again before I can finish speaking.
“Shh…” He takes me into his arms again. “I’m so very sorry, Bonnie. So sorry.”
We stand there until steam curls around us. Gradually, warmth seeps into my bones, and I stop shaking so much.
“I’ll get you towels and some dry clothes, okay? Then, we’ll get you into bed.” He moves back, and that’s when I notice his white t-shirt is drenched and the tantalizing display of muscles that are exposed draws my eyes. My mouth dries.
“Bed?” I question stupidly.
“It’s late, Bonnie, you need to sleep.”
“Sleep. Right. What time is it?” My brain is slow to process.
“It’s just after two in the morning.”
That surprises me. That late already? “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't know. Did I wake you?”
“No, we’re night owls here.”
“We?” I ask.
“My Dad and I. That was my dad on the intercom. He lives here, too,” he says.
His father lives here! I try not to freak out. Some people still have normal relationships with their fathers. “Oh, okay.”
“You’re dead on your feet, Bonnie. I’ll let you finish up here. There’ll be towels out by the sink for you and some dry clothes on the bed. Just leave your wet clothes in the sink, alright? I’ll come back to check that you’re okay.” He leaves a lingering kiss on my forehead, then leaves, dripping wet.
Through the fogged glass, I see him strip naked, then grab one white towel out of a stack to dry off with. I resist the urge to wipe the condensation off the glass so I can see him clearly. Within seconds, the bathroom is empty.
It feels surreal. I came here to Ethan. To this glorious place. I left my dark, depressing house, where I was all but drowning in guilt and fear and grief. I came here to Ethan, the man I’m currently not speaking to, and in fact, planning to move abroad to avoid. And he welcomed me.
The guest room is empty when I get out of the shower, but I see some clothes on the bed. They belong to him. I quickly pull the top over my head, and I can’t resist sniffing the collar. It’s clean, but I still smell him on it. The boxer shorts are too big for me, so I roll the waistband down a few times so they don't fall.
Sitting on the bed with my feet tucked under me, my hand running over the luxurious sheets, I test the mattress with my weight, thinking how comfortable it would be to sleep in. But I don’t get into bed. I can’t settle down.
I’m waiting for him to return.