Page 7 of The Marriage Bid
The call came in like a bomb dropped in my lap. It was not my partner’s fault. If anything, fate was to blame. That and my need to please people. I never told them about me and Tyler, and that day, the chickens finally came home to roost.
“Malaya.” I answered the call. “Did you leave something?”
“Fuck. Fuck that piece of shit!” she screamed over the phone. Sirens were blaring in the background. Cars and people were making it hard for me to hear her. “Oh, Saff! You won’t believe what just happened. Someassholerammed into my Uber while trying to run a red—” A jackhammer cut her off.
“Oh my god, Malaya, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Like I said, the car got the worst of it, but I got bruised, and I'm going to the hospital. The ambulance just got here.”
I flung out of my office chair, went to the coat rack, and grabbed my jacket. “Which hospital? I am on my way.”
“No, don’t visit me. I told you it’s just a bruise. I could have limped to the presentation if I could have, but the Uber driver insisted I go to a hospital. Oh, shit, I am bleeding.”
“Malaya, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Trust me, I am fine. But I can’t go to the meeting anymore. I texted Seb telling him I can no longer make it, and you’ll be coming in my stead. And, lucky for us, he got delayedas well and said—” The jackhammer drilled over her again. “—That’s fine with you, right?”
“Present in your place?” It’s been three weeks since I served Tyler with divorce papers and basically got no response from him. He must have forgotten I married him through all the dating he was doing. It’s not like I was online stalking him, but I Googled him after the silence to see what he was up to, and the endless images of him with glamorous women on his arm made my heart clench. He was out there having fun, ignoring my papers. But that did not mean I wanted to talk to him. What if he’s there during the pitch? Throughout her dealings with H&H, Malaya had said little of Tyler. She hadn’t met him, and the only person she dealt with was Sebastian. And last time I checked, Tyler was in Europe. Again, not stalking, but after the algorithm saw I searched him, it kept serving me articles about him.
“Sure!” I said.
Malaya breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! Call me when you’re done. Bye.”
Cold sweat ran down my back as soon as she ended the call. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. The mantra I often repeat to myself when I am nervous did not work. The more I thought about the presentation, the more I wanted to throw up.He will not be there, I told myself. Seb will be there. Did he know about my marriage to his brother? He must. The two were close. So close that many people assumed they were twins. Whatever. I took a deep breath, did a five-minute meditation and went to the presentation.
Hawthorne & Hawthorne was situated in the heart of Manhattan. Their swanky offices not only denoted how successful the company was, but their architectural prowess. The curvy angles in the office design made the modern structure not only beautiful and warm but also professional while being slightly playful. I hated how good the style was. I know it wasTyler who designed it. That was also in one of the articles I read. He had no business being this good at his job. Why couldn’t he just be another nepo baby who rode the coattails of his father and older siblings?
The receptionist who greeted me when I entered the C-suite floor was warm and inviting. Strands from her raven-colored side-swept bob kept falling down and covering her left eye, and she had to sweep it away constantly. She wore a giant black and gold name tag that said, ‘Bryony’ on it. Her green eyes sparkled when she saw me walk in, but I doubted it was from genuine warmth but instead from practiced warmth.
“Hi, I have a ten o’clock that’s been pushed to eleven with Sebastian Hawthorne. I’m from Marble Row Interiors.”
She frowned, checked her laptop, looked back at me, her eyes full of suspicion but afraid to say what made her hesitant. “Marble Row? I thought—”
“That I was African American? That’s my partner. She’s been in an accident, and I am coming in her place.”
“Oh! Okay. I mean, oh, no! I hope she’s alright?” Bryony shot up from her chair, covering her mouth in shock as she did so. She was much shorter than I had realized. The humongous egg-shaped desk she sat behind dwarfed her petite frame.
“She’s fine. Just a little bruising.”
Bryony sat back down in relief. “I hope she gets well soon. She’s been here a few times. Let me tell Mr. Hawthorne you’re here.” She dialed a number while I waited, nodded a few times at whoever was on the other end, saying, “Marble Row, yes… The blue room… absolutely.” And then, “Nice talking to you, Matt.” She flashed a bright smile at me and got out from behind the desk. “They’re already waiting for you in one of our meeting rooms. If you’d just follow me.”
Bryony strolled in front of me, her flared black skirt swishing as she led me to the room. She looked exactly like thetype of woman I had seen on Tyler’s arm. Did he sleep with her? My chest clenched. I warded off the jealous thought. I did not think about him for five years, and now I suddenly cared who he fucked?
She stopped at a blue door. I turned around and noticed all the surrounding doors had different colors. It looked warm and playful. And done in a shade any brighter and it would have made the doors look like that of a kindergarten, but the shades were dull and mature. “They’re waiting for you.” Bryony flashed me a smile and added, “Good luck.”
It’s going to be fine.I knocked once, twisted the handle, and walked in. And what do you know, my fucking husband was staring right back at me.
Chapter 5
Tyler
Iwas not expecting to do any work after coming back from a long, frustrating trip. The deal I was hoping to sign fell through. And now instead of getting some restful trip, Seb called at the last minute saying I had to attend a pitch meeting. Nothing stressful. The deal was close to being signed. All I had to do was show my face and pretend to listen. He had met the interior designer before, and her work was stellar. Seb left out the most crucial part. The designer was Saffron Channing. My wife. The woman I was blackmailed into marrying. The woman who had the audacity to serve me divorce papers. If she thought she could use me and discard me like I was Kleenex, she was snorting some high-grade coke.
The only good thing about this surprise was that she looked just as stunned to see me. Her eyes widened when they landed on me. She choked through her greeting, stammering over her words like a little girl caught stealing, but she gave the pitch to the rest of my employees without a hitch. Her gaze kept darting to the back of the room where I sat, though. I did not miss the nervous glance whenever she turned to a different slide.
“…and that’s what we will be bringing to you as The Marble Row. High-quality decor that isn’t tacky but is understated in its luxurious tone.” She ended her presentation. I had to admitbegrudgingly, it was a good pitch. Everyone in the room agreed. They were all nodding their heads as they thumbed through the Lookbook. The head of the purchasing and procurement department started to clap but, when he registered my stern silence, stopped.
“I would like to speak to Ms. Channing alone, please.”
