Out of the blue, a small note arrived in the mail. Even after all these years, I recognized the handwriting. I dropped my keys to the apartment, startling everyone in the mailroom. My heart quickened and I stopped breathing. The way my name, Bailey Edgeworth, stretched across the entire envelope, the unique way the Y looped and cradled my full name. The way he had written my name from the very beginning. When the room was empty, I carefully opened the envelope to not disturb the contents. My eyes drifted to the bottom first. It was short: “You made it in New York. Enjoy your moment and breathe. I’m sober. Griffin.” The last one did more for my heart than any flowers ever could.

The following Sunday night, Elliott prepared a quiet dinner for us at home. It was reminiscent of the meals he had concocted before we were married. He opened a bottle of champagne and toasted us. “To my extraordinary muse who just happens to be my wife, my soul mate, and my partner in all life’s most delightful endeavors.” Lovely habits began to emerge. Drinking champagne. Laughing for no particular reason and touching for the same reasons. Even the playful habits in our lovemaking reemerged. Elliott preferred to take his time, removing each garment of my clothing himself and assaulting me with kisses in between.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

The following Wednesday I received two calls while out scouting for three new projects. The first was from Lea.

“Elliott just went home complaining about his back. He said to call you.” Damn. Not this again, I thought. I made my purchases quickly and turned around to head back. As I approached the restaurant, my phone buzzed. It was Mac.

“Hey, Ms. Bigshot. I’m back in town. Do you think we could get together next Thursday for lunch? I’ve got some ideas I’d like to run past you, and of course there’s always the little matter of your retainer, which is probably sky-high by now,” he laughed. It was the laughter of confidence that only old money, new money, and charm evoked.

I stalled. Next week would be fine if Elliott was back in form. “Let’s tentatively say Thursday, and if something comes up, I’ll text you.”

“You’re not playing hard to get now, are you?”

If only, I thought. “I’ll text next week to confirm.”

I entered the restaurant to see what crises confronted me. First thing, my clothes needed changing. I was dressed for scavenging, not greeting guests in a high-end restaurant. I needed to remember to keep a change of clothes in Elliott’s office like I used to. The second thing—Rex was having a meltdown and threatening to quit because of his expanded workload due to Elliott’s absence.

I called Henry at the restaurant to seek his advice. “Just deal with him. You negotiate every day in those bargain stores.”