Page 70 of Perfect Assumption
“Nothing. But you didn’t flag it as a priority.”
“I should have. She needs to sign it so I can have everything official in her file.”
“Agreed. But there’s not much more we can do to speed things up.”
“I need to do something to distract myself. All I keep thinking about are the what-ifs.”
That conversation the day after Ward wooed me on the rooftop with lunch and dancing has sat in my gut like a lead balloon. For now, we’re in a holding pattern, and it’s making us all anxious which is why I suggested maybe it would be a good time for her brood to escape the city and see what life outside Manhattan is like.
She quickly agreed.
That’s how I find myself the weekend before Thanksgiving, awaiting a small convoy of people to arrive at my oasis just outside of the city. Although, it truly is a magnificent day for it. The weather has that perfect bite of cold while the sky is so blue it makes my eyes water to look at it for too long.
I can’t help but turn my face toward the wind rustling the last few leaves on the trees as I stand in the yard. Even as I remain motionless, another one flutters to the ground. I track its slow descent with a bittersweet smile on my face. Long ago, my grandfather used to tell me you could tell a lot about people who didn’t rest on their laurels. “Putting in a day’s hard work is honorable, Angie. Any man or woman who simply earns his living by hanging on the coattails of others isn’t someone worthy of you. One day, those are the people who won’t care about the nonsense they made up about you.”
“But it happened, Grandpa. The only thing they lied about was the outcome,” I whispered, afraid I was interpreting his words to believe he, too, didn’t believe me.
But that wasn’t the case.
It was too soon after everything that had happened to me for me to appreciate the wisdom of his words. And while I can thank him in my heart every single day for believing I would be able to move past the horror to find the beauty in life again, it’s not the same as being able to crawl into his lap and hug him.
Just like I did when my life was a mess.
I drag the rake along the ground one last time and admire the large pile. “Ben is going to love this,” I declare. For a little boy whose only exposure to the great outdoors has been the times his parents take him to Central Park, I should have thought to tell Carys and David to bring him an extra set of clothing. Rubbing my arms up and down, I quickly move toward the garage to hang up the rake. Then, remembering the corduroy outerwear they had him in to go to daycare, my eyes crinkle. “At least I won’t have to worry about him getting cold.”
As much as the temperature has begun to plunge overnight, it’s warmed significantly at the office. The way Ward’s behaving makes me want to fall down in the leaf pile and make angels because I now know they exist. He’s like a whole different person. “Or maybe I am,” I muse aloud.
Every morning, he greets me with a gentle “Good morning, Angie.” Then, he stands there and listens when we both have a moment to talk. We find time for quiet lunches in his office or just moments to chat as we slowly let each other in on small little bits of nothing that mean everything, including laughter.
And each morning I check the feeds, but there’s nothing trending about Ward. It’s like he’s disappeared from the media’s notice as Becks—or some other poor soul—becomes their new target.
But yesterday was the incident I have now declared the first LLF Snowball Fight.
I bite my lip, trying to hold in my laugh as I recall how Ward walked into the middle Carys and Becks’s blowout over his asinine behavior is drawing more media attention. “These stupid antics have to stop, Beckett! Eventually, I’m going to have to defend one of these cases,” Carys yelled up at him, shaking her finger.
His response was to pelt her in the head with a crumpled-up gossip rag that ended up with an all-out paper war, both of them hitting Ward several times in the head before Ward bellowed, “Is this how professionals behave?”
“Apparently today, it is,” I drawled.
He whipped around, not realizing I was in the conference room. He opened his mouth to say something when a small piece of paper flew into his mouth. Ward spat it out onto the floor.
By this point, my whole body was shaking with laughter. “I love my job,” I proclaimed to the entire room—where no one was listening—as I pushed out of my chair, leaving the three of them to fight it out.
The subtle change between Ward and me was remarked upon by Carys when we spoke yesterday to confirm today was a good day for her family to traipse out to see my home. “Of course it is. I’d truly enjoy the company,” I told her.
“Good. You can tell me it’s not my business, but…”
Uh-oh. “But what?”
Carys gestured to her guest chair. I dutifully sat down. “I noticed a lot of the frost has melted between you and Ward. I was worried after that night where you helped Becks it would get worse.” Her penetrating aqua eyes bore into mine.
I turned my face away to gather my thoughts. “How is it Ward doesn’t know who I am, Carys?”
“It was never my place to tell him, Angie. You trusted me with that knowledge. And despite the anxiety that goes through you every time a certain company is mentioned in the media, I truly don’t think every person watches you as if you have a scarlet X branded on you. I truly believe many people simply can’t help but stare at you because you’re exquisitely beautiful.” Her voice was gentle.
My hands shook. I clenched them so tightly, my nails dug little half-moons into the palms. “There’s no way for you to understand what that kind of media coverage was like,” I lashed out.
“Don’t I?” My head whipped around to find her hands folded together on her desk. “It wasn’t the same kind perverse invasiveness as yours, but it was still a storm we were completely unprepared for.”
