Page 32 of The Second Ending
“They broke us up. Yes, I know, how could we let them? They pulled a horrible trick, and we both fell for it. They contrived evidence to make me think that Marcus was cheating on me, and to make him think I was cheating on him. Of course, we had a huge fight. We both figured out very quickly what had happened, but the trust was gone.
“He was upset that I’d doubted him, and I wasn’t any better. He said that if I didn’t have faith in him, our relationship was built on sand. He moved out, and refused to take my calls, and after a while, I stopped calling or messaging him. Maybe I should have tried harder, but I was broken, and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t face the rejection anymore. So, I pretended that I was fine and threw myself into my classes, and tried to move on.”
“But your heart was broken, and it never healed.” Liora’s eyes were glistening. “Oh, Ash. That’s why you were so sad when we met. I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. I’d have given your parents what-for, and I’d have stomped over to Marcus’ house and whipped some sense into him.”
“I thought he was finished with me. I thought he never wanted to hear my name again. When we saw each other at that first meeting about the playing fields, his glare could have burned a hole through my head. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.”
She picked up the wine glass, allowing herself a moment to get lost in her memories as she toyed with the stem. Had thatonly been a few short months ago? It seemed like a lifetime. “When we started communicating again, I was so hopeful, and when we decided to get to know each other again, I thought that maybe we had a chance. A chance at a different ending. But now, I’m afraid that he thinks I’m a two-timer after all.”
Sympathy flooded her friend’s voice. “Are you sure that’s what’s going on? Did he say anything? Maybe it’s something else.”
Ashleigh sniffled. “Maybe. He was so curt. He didn’t explain or call.”
“Have a good sleep and give it a day. Maybe he also needs to process a few things. It might get better.”
“Yeah, it might. Thanks.”
Or, she shuddered, it might be another dagger in her aching heart.
CHAPTER 18
THE NEXT CONCERT
Marcus had spentall day stewing and fretting about the development. His mind was on everything but his other projects, and as the minutes ticked by, his temper grew shorter and shorter.
“This again?” Shelley glared at him from the doorway to his office. “The weather office just called to ask about the thunderstorms forming over the building. And you can stop muttering all those curses. I can hear you through the walls.” Her voice softened. “Is this still about the sale? You know that once the lawyers get their hands on it, everything will work out. It just might take a bit longer.”
“Longer?” Marcus spat back. “It’s already been seven months. Seven freaking months! What is with these people? We had a deal. They signed it. What kind of bullshit is this? It feels like they’ve been toying with me this whole time, and I’m just fed up with it all. My hands are tied. I’d pull out of the deal myself, but you know, the way they’ve been acting, the minute I back out of the deal, they’ll bombard me with an avalanche of lawsuits. Bastards.”
“You still don’t know who the owner is?”
“He’s barricaded himself behind a wall of shells and agents and LLCs. He doesn’t want to be found. It’s really feeling personal, for some reason.”
“Go home. Watch a stupid movie. Get drunk. You’re useless here.”
“Yes, boss,” he replied to his EA.
“By the way, I sent you the update on that other site by text. Did you get it?”
Marcus rummaged through the soft-sided messenger bag he carried. “No. I’ve avoided looking at my phone, in case there’s more bad news. I know, I know. Don’t yell at me. I’ll check now— Oh, crap. Ash sent a message. God, I can’t deal with that now. I’ll just bite her head off, and she’ll be upset at me. I’ll deal with that and go home, I promise. And I’ll look at the update in the morning.”
He shut down his computer, sent a couple of words back to Ashleigh, and stormed all the way home, refusing to think of anything even vaguely work-related until the next morning.
Tuesday was not much better,although it didn’t start with such terrible news.
There was nothing from his legal team, but also no reply from Ashleigh. Damn. She really must be upset at him. What had he done? Was she upset that his planned meetings had conflicted with her performance last weekend? She’d seemed so understanding when he explained it to her. But then Sebastian had been there, and she must have invited him, and she had then waited two days before sending him a note. He thought they were getting on so well, but did he truly understand her? Or was it an illusion, like before?
No! That wasn’t fair. That had all been her parents’ doing, not hers. Hell, how could they ever expect to find their way back together if that memory kept getting in the way. At a distance of eight years, he should be able to separate the truth from the fiction her horrible parents had created. She had done nothing wrong. He repeated that to himself half a dozen times. Her sin was no worse than his—they had both believed the lies at first. And maybe that, in itself, was their fatal flaw. But the tricks had been convincing, with doctored photographs and text messages, and even then, she’d come to him for explanations, rather than just walking away. He was the one who had slammed the door, being too wounded by the whole event to deal with things. Her only sin was giving up on him too easily.
So why was she being so distant now?
He pulled out his phone and sent another text.Work is horrible. I’m not good company. We’ll talk later.Once he had his thoughts in order, he’d make a proper invitation to a proper date, and they’d talk it all through then. As long as she hadn’t given up on him entirely.
With those thoughts hovering in his mind like a black cloud, he forced his attention back to the pile of papers he hadn’t managed to get through yesterday.
Thursday wasthe first rehearsal for the next concert in the Eglinton Echoes’ season. It was to be a lighter program, suitable for the season, with a selection of popular opera and Gilbert and Sullivan choruses, and a newly arranged set of folk songs about spring and summer from around the world. After the emotionally taxing time she’d had of late, Ashleigh was pleased that the music, at least, would be bright and uplifting.
Randall cornered her before the first rehearsal with an odd look on his face.
