Page 56 of This Woman Forever

He tosses his keys, nodding. “Everything’s for sale. The owner, his name’s Jesse Ward, right?

“Right,” I breathe.

“Do you know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.”

“Great.” His mobile appears. “Mind sharing his number?”

“Yes, I mind.”

His eyes lift from the screen of his phone, his smile now milder. “Maybe I could leave you my card instead,” he says. “To pass on.” He dips into his trouser pocket and pulls out a gold embossed card. “I’d be very grateful.”

I nod, eyes on him, as I accept, and he gets in his car and drives off.

OWEN CUTLER

That’s it. Just a name. The Manor for sale? I huff and slip the card into the inside pocket of my jacket, returning to my Aston. What’s the fucking point of having a business card if it only tells people your name? “Idiot,” I mutter as I drive past the trees, pulling in around the fountain.

“I didn’t expect to see you today, Mr. Ward,” Pete says as I pass through the hallway. “Congratulations again.”

I smile lamely and increase my pace before anyone can find me and thrust their well wishes on me. The summer room is back to normal, no signs that a wedding happening here this past weekend. I swallow, feeling at my chest as I push my way into my office. I find John at the desk. He looks up, a pile of paperwork in his hand. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Ava’s at work. What do you expect me to do?” I close the door and wander over. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the contract for the CCTV system.”

“Ask Sar—” I stop as John looks up at me tiredly. “Shit,” I breathe. It’s going to take some getting used to. “Why do you need it?”

“To check the warranty on the cameras. Two more went down.”

“Great.” I sit on the edge of my desk as John places the paperwork down. I can see the questions coming. “How’s Sarah?” I ask.

“I took her car back and posted the keys.”

“You didn’t see her?”

“Spoke to her. She wasn’t talking much sense. I think the hangover was kicking in.”

I tilt my head. “What was she saying?”

“That she can’t live without you.” He eyes me, his face serious, and I shrink. “That she’s lost, that death would be better than living without you and this place.”

“She was still drunk.” I’m awkward as I reach for my laptop and pull it closer, getting my email account up. Now there’s a way to get my attention. I can’t play that game.

“Probably. Now what’s up with you?”

I laugh to myself. Aside from the guilt trip he’s just sent me on? “Nothing.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up, John,” I say, tapping with too much force at my keyboard. I see an email from the dealership reminding me I need to pay for the car before they deliver it. Stupid me. I’ll ask Sarah to?—

Fuck.

“Tell me what’s going on, motherfucker.”

I slam my laptop shut and stand abruptly. “Nothing is fucking up, John,” I yell, storming out. It takes everything in me not to put my fist in every wall I pass as I stalk through The Manor. Everything.

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