One Week
1186 Words
Nobody answers.
The silence goes on just long enough to make Xavier look between us again.
A waitress passes with a tray of drinks, oblivious, and for a second I envy her completely.
Robert doesn't rush to explain anything. He simply turns to me.
“Are you ready to leave?”
Robert's voice is calm.
“Wait.” Xavier steps between us before Robert can move toward the door. “What seven days?”
“A private matter,” Robert says, without a flicker of emotion.
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one you're getting.”
Xavier looks at me like I might give him a different one.
I don't.
That answer only makes Xavier's jaw tighten further. He turns to me instead, searching my face for something I'm not ready to give him.
“It doesn't concern you,” I say.
Xavier blinks.
For a second, he doesn't answer.
Robert doesn't press either of us. He reaches into his jacket and sets his card on the table, the same matte black card from that first night on the sidewalk.
Xavier stares at it like it might move on its own.
“You don't owe either of us an answer today,” Robert says.
Then, quieter, meant only for me, “Tomorrow is the final day.”
He doesn't wait for a response. He simply turns and walks out.
No threats. No speeches. Just the door closing behind him.
Xavier's eyes drop to the card still sitting on the table between us.
Something in his expression changes. “I've seen that before,” he says slowly. “In his office. Years ago.”
“It's not exactly the kind of card you forget,” I say.
He picks it up, turns it over once, sets it back down like it might burn him.
“Why does my father have your number?”
I don't answer right away.
“Because he gave it to me,” I finally say.
“When?”
“The night you got engaged.”
Xavier doesn't say anything for a moment.
“What does my father want from you?” he asks, and this time there's real unease threaded through his voice.
I hesitate. For a moment I almost tell him everything, the sidewalk, the card, the contract sitting on my kitchen table right now.
Almost.
He's still looking at me, waiting, and the waiting makes it worse.
The words sit right there on my tongue, ready to spill out. If I say it now, I lose whatever control I still have over how this unfolds.
“He made me an offer,” I say instead.
“What kind of offer?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I haven't decided what I'm going to do about it. And you, of all people, don't get to be the reason I decide faster.”
I don't even know why I keep it to myself. Maybe because it still doesn't feel real.
Xavier studies me like he's trying to read something written in a language he used to know.
“My father doesn't help people,” he says quietly. “He's never once done anything without a reason.”
“I noticed.”
“He's been trying to marry off half his board for years and never once found anyone worth the paperwork.”
“Maybe he finally did.”
Xavier doesn't laugh. I didn't expect him to.
“If he offered you something—”
He stops mid-sentence.
It isn't jealousy on his face. It's fear.
“Does this have anything to do with Elena?” he asks.
“I don't know. Does it?”
He doesn't answer that either.
I stand before he can finish the thought out loud.
“I have to go.”
“Ariella, wait.”
His hand reaches for my wrist, not hard, just instinct catching up a half second too late.
I pull away gently.
“I don't belong to you anymore, Xavier.”
He lets his hand fall.
I walk out without looking back.
Outside, the evening air is cooler than I expect. I've barely made it to the corner when I hear voices behind me, low and clipped.
Xavier has caught up to his father just before the car door.
“What are you doing?”
Robert turns to face him, unbothered. “What do you think I'm doing?”
“I told you to leave her alone.”
“You don't get to tell me what to do anymore.”
Xavier says nothing.
Robert adds, “Not after what you did to her.”
Xavier has nothing left to say to that. He just stands there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking younger than I've ever seen him look.
Neither of them says anything else. Xavier just stands there on the curb as his father steps into the car and the door shuts behind him.
The sedan pulls away, taillights disappearing into traffic, and Xavier is still standing there when I turn the corner and lose sight of him.
Home doesn't feel far enough, so I skip the cab and keep walking. I need the noise of the city to drown out everything that just happened in that café.
A group of college kids passes me laughing about something, phones out, completely unaware that anyone's world could be falling apart three feet away from them.
Six days ago, the worst thing I thought could happen to me already had. Now I'm not so sure I know what the worst thing even looks like anymore.
I pass the coffee shop where Xavier and I used to get breakfast on Sunday mornings. It's closed now, dark inside, a For Lease sign taped crookedly in the window.
My feet ache by the time I reach my building. My mind is no clearer than when I left.
Back in my apartment, I set Robert's card down beside the contract on my kitchen table.
Tomorrow is the last day.
I stare at both of them for a long time, the black card and the thick envelope, like they might rearrange themselves into something easier to understand if I just wait long enough.
My phone stays quiet for once. No messages from Xavier. No messages from Robert. Just the two of them sitting there on the table, waiting for me to move first.
I open my notebook to a blank page instead.
Yes.
No.
Five minutes later, there are still only two words.
I write Security under yes. Cross it out. Write it again, harder this time, like pressing the pen down will make it more true.
Under no, I write my own name. Then I stare at it until it stops looking like a real word.
Outside, a car alarm goes off somewhere down the block, then stops. The apartment is quiet again.
For six days, I'd been trying to decide whether to sign Robert Rothwell's contract.
Tonight I close the notebook.
The contract is still sitting beside it.
Tomorrow, one signature will change everything.
Tonight, it just waits.
- Writer
