Chapter 38 Lexie
I pick up my phone and stare at the empty screen. I flip it over, put it down, pick it up. I—
“Lexie, you’re driving me fucking nuts,” Justin says, holding his hand out. “Give me your phone. For your own good. Seriously.”
“Sorry, sorry. I know.” I force a smile and drop it into my purse.
He’s right. For the past five days, Theo and I have barely spoken—just a handful of texts and one rushed phone call.
I feel like a starved caged animal, restless and on edge, and I hate it.
Annabelle came back last week, and just like I feared, Theo pulled away immediately.
He warned me he’d go dark while they worked through the final “break-up” details.
He just didn’t warn me he’d go pitch fucking black.
I glance at my computer screen, but I can’t absorb a single thing—my mind is too scattered. How could it not be, when I’m supposed to be fine-tuning the final details of a fake wedding that’s three weeks away and I’m falling in love with the groom.
“Is this about the new guy?” Justin asks as he leans back on his chair. “Need me to pull the best friend card and have a conversation with him about how to treat a lady?”
“No. Not yet.” I take a sip of coffee and it slides to my sour stomach. “Let’s try not to scare him off before you get the chance to know him. First impressions and all.”
Or, in this case, fifth impressions. I say a silent prayer that once everything is out in the open, Justin will understand why I’ve kept the details from him and only mentioned I started seeing someone “special”.
“This one’s pretty serious, huh?”
Serious doesn’t even begin to explain my feelings.
And it terrifies the shit out of me.
“Yeah, I hope so. And I hate that I’m in so deep now that I start freaking out when he pulls back, even though I understand why. It’s just… hard.”
“I really feel that. I don’t think it ever gets any easier—even when you’re married,” Justin says gently. “But if something doesn’t feel right, it’s better to be honest with him about it so you know where you stand.”
I sigh. He’s probably right.
“If what you have is worth fighting for, then maybe it’s time to fight.”
I mouth that I love him—even when he’s being insufferably right about knowing what’s best—and go back to reading phantom emails.
But the days continue to pass, and I hardly hear from Theo. With a knotted stomach, I reread the text message I sent last night, which he still hasn’t responded to.
Lexie: I miss you. When can I see you?
I start writing another message to check if everything’s okay, when, by some miracle, typing bubbles appear. I freeze, holding my breath.
Theo: sorry, missed this text. I’ll figure something out.
Bullshit. I’m not playing this game where Theo thinks he can walk all over me. Been, there done that, got the trophy. But no more. So I don’t reply.
Days crawl by, and my simmering anger starts to boil; out of stubborn principle, I don’t reach out to him. He doesn’t contact me either.
When I check my phone for the millionth time that day at work, and see no new message, I storm down the hall to take a breather, away from my desk and the annoying wedding reminders popping up on my computer.
As I pass Sydney’s office, I stop in my tracks when I hear sniffling coming from inside.
I hesitate. I’m not sure if it’s my place to check in on her or not.
But the knowledge that Sydney never cries, not at work anyway, and that she prides herself on being the consummate professional spur me on to tentatively knock on her office door.
I hear a weak “Come in” and see Sydney trying to quickly wipe away her tears with a tissue. “Oh, hey Lexie. Come in and shut the door.” Not even her chunky glasses could conceal the bloodshot eyes.
I shut the door and lower myself into the chair. “Is everything okay?” I ask, when clearly everything is not okay.
Sydney takes a sip of water and fans her face. “Yes. Um, how are you? You looked upset earlier.”
It strikes me that even in her misery, she’s still looking out for me. I push my own concerns aside; right now, this is about Sydney. “What’s going on?”
Her mouth parts like she wants to say something, but then closes it. I’ve never seen her break like this.
“Sydney, please. Tell me what’s going on.” I place my hand on her desk. “You’ve been there for me all these years. Let me be here for you now.”
A long moment passes as she studies my face, warring with her own indecision.
Finally, she takes a deep breath. “If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room.
Understood?” I nod. “I just got off the phone with the company’s investors.
Even though I saw it coming, it still hit me hard.
” Her voice shakes as she speaks. “I have to lay off five staff members.”
What!? “Five?” My mind swirls like I was just spit out from a tornado and landed on my ass. We only have ten employees. What the hell could’ve happened that would constitute laying off fifty percent of our staff?
Panic sets in.
Am I one of them? I can’t leave. This is my home, for better or worse.
I’m endlessly grateful to Sydney for taking a chance on a young girl recently kicked out of college and I don’t know if any other company would’ve done the same.
The wedding industry is cutthroat and unforgiving, built on reputation and prestige.
Black spots fill my vision, and I blink through the murky, thin air.
“As of now, you are safe,” she says and I let out the biggest breath of my life. “But I need to look at which team members I can bear to see let go.” Her lips tremble. “I don’t tell you all often enough, but this here is my family. You all mean the world to me.”
My heart swells and I want to hug her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No… not right now. You have to keep this confidential while I figure out the next steps.” She props her elbows on the table and rests her head in her hands. When she pulls back, she gives me a soft smile. “Actually, there is something you can do.”
I straighten my back. “Anything.”
“Make this Barlowe/Astor wedding the most spectacular event of the season. Do whatever you need to make them happy. We need our names in every paper, gossip site, we need every guest to know who we are.” Heat fills my face.
I choke down the nauseating burn of acid in my throat.
“God forbid, if this wedding doesn’t go through, our company will close its doors for good. ”
The shock of what Sydney told me an hour ago still hasn’t worn off.
I’ve called Theo twice, sent a text, had no reply, and my anxiety is through the roof.
Having to work in the office for the rest of the day has been torture.
I can’t stop myself from peering around at my co-workers wondering who’ll be cut.
The twin receptionists, Amanda and Megan?
Seeing their smiling faces greeting me every morning is something I’ve taken for granted.
Someone else? It feels like I’m watching the living dead, people moving through their day without any idea of what’s coming.
God, please let it not be Justin.
Right now, the wedding that I’m so desperate to have canceled—which is somehow still going ahead—carries the very real possibility of shutting down my workplace and leaving me without a job.
It’s not just my life on the line, but everyone else’s in this company.
What sort of fuckery-laced hand did the universe deal me?
And what kind of selfish, vile person am I that I still want the wedding called off?
But, since Theo and Annabelle are still officially engaged to be married in two weeks, between the three of us, it hopefully buys us enough time to come up with a solution. If only I could just talk to Theo.
I grab my purse and phone and head for the door, fixated on tracking him down and forcing this conversation. He’s had enough time to reunite with Annabelle and talk it out with her. Now I need answers.
Less than an hour later, I’m in the elevator heading up to his apartment. It’s only four p.m. and I know he won’t be home for a few hours, but I’ll sit and wait all goddamn day if that’s what it takes to make him talk to me.
When I let myself into his condo, I’m prepared to meet a silent, open room, instead—“Theo?” It takes a moment for me to confirm my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
A pale, unshaved, messy-haired Theo, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants, staring out his floor-to-ceiling window with dark purple halos under his eyes.
Is he sick? Has he been ill these last ten days and that’s why he’s disappeared?
He makes no movement. He doesn’t even look surprised that I’m here. He looks defeated.
My heart sinks to my stomach.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, but it’s not accusatory. The voice is resigned, almost timid, pushed through a throaty, exhausted voice.
I want to scream at him for blocking me out and that I deserve so much more than this.
I want to ask him if I did something wrong, tell him how shitty my day has been and Sydney’s news, how scared I am of everything crumbling around me.
But instead, I slip off my purse, set it on the counter, and take a few, hesitant steps. “What’s wrong?”
He sinks into a lounge chair, pushes his elbows into his knees, and presses his thumbs into his forehead.
When he glances up at me with regret-filled, red-brimmed eyes, I already know what he’s going to say.
My body weighs a million pounds. The air in the room is so heavy it turns into a noose.
I drag myself to sit across from him, each step feeling like I’m a prisoner taking my last walk before the darkness closes in.
“I’m so sorry,” he says as he keeps staring at his hands.
Three words that carry so much weight. He doesn’t need to elaborate. I know what he’s trying to tell me. “Please don’t say this.” My voice cracks. “I don’t want to hear this. I can’t fucking hear this.”
He barely catches my gaze and says, “We tried everything.”
No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening. His voice sounds as drained as his face looks, and my world shatters along with my heart. It’s done? We’re over, just like that? “There’s nothing else you can do?” I ask, too softly.
“Anna tried, she really did,” he says, focusing on the ground. “She hired lawyers, worked with her grandmother’s team, brought in international consultants, we—”
I stand up and move to the door. I don’t need to hear a single other word. Whatever he has to say it doesn’t matter because he’s getting married, and this is over, and my heart feels like a razor blade is slicing at the muscle.
“Lexie, wait.”
“You promised me, Theo,” I say as my trembling hands strap my purse across my shoulder. “You promised me that everything was fine and all I had to do was be patient and not fucking worry. How many times did you tell me not to worry?”
“I know, I know. We thought we could find it. Anna’s lawyers—they found a loophole, money was transferred, they… I just… she thought everything was set. We thought we’d already have broken off the engagement by now. I’ve… we’ve… spent the last week doing everything we can to find an alternative.”
I can’t hear this. I don’t want to hear that he’s given up, that they tried, but still have to get married. My stomach hurts. My chest hurts. I swipe dripping tears and march to the door.
He leaps from the chair. “Maybe… I don’t know, maybe you and I can figure something out.
Anna already knows about us and is cool with everything.
We couldn’t tell anyone that we’re together, though.
” Now his voice elevates and I’ve never wanted to slap anyone so hard in my life.
“We could keep doing what we’re doing—it’s been working for us, hasn’t it?
Annabelle and I would handle the stuff we need to do with the families and appearances, but you and I can still be together.
I could come over to your place, and you could come here, and we could even leave the country for a while or something—”
“Stop!” I release a fiery choked sob. “Don’t you dare do this to me. Do not ask me to be your fucking side piece, Theo.”
“No, no, I’m not asking that, I’m just—”
“That’s exactly what you’re asking. You want all of me, but you’re only willing to give me a portion of yourself? Fuck you. How dare you ask that of me? How dare you assume I’m not worth more?”
He drags his hands down his face in anguish. I turn and walk out the door, but he’s right at my heels. “We can figure something out. I’m just asking for you to wait.”
“For how long? For what?” Even though there’s a piece of me that feels like I’d wait for a lifetime for him, I know I can’t.
I press the elevator button, and step inside.
He follows, gripping my shoulders until I’m forced to look at him.
“Maybe we can put something in the paperwork. A five-year contingency or something, where Anna gets part of her trust fund for every year we stay married.”
I scoff. “Five years? Five fucking years?” My voice echoes in the confines of the elevator. “Stop, just stop. There’s no way I want to hide a relationship with you for five years.”
I can’t believe this is happening. My paranoia, my worry, was justified. Deep down I knew something would go wrong, and I ignored all the warning bells in my gut. I let myself get caught up in Theo. What the hell was I thinking getting involved with him in the first place?
I need to get out of here. I drag the back of my hands across my face to wipe off the tears and suck in a breath, refusing to break down in front of him anymore. When the elevator doors open to the expansive lobby, I push him off and take a few steps out, Theo close on my heels.
And then, I freeze.
So does Theo.
I wonder if I’m hallucinating, because standing in front of us in khaki slacks, a tweed coat, his gray hair swept in a manicured cut, stands Dr. George K. Astor.