Chapter Three: Searching in the Light
1581 Words
She hasn't called.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time today, knowing it's pathetic. Knowing I look like some lovesick teenager instead of a thirty-two-year-old CEO sitting in a board meeting that's supposed to determine the future of a multi-million dollar acquisition.
"Mr. Colton?" Someone's talking to me. I have no idea who. "Your thoughts on the proposal?"
I blink, forcing my attention back to the conference room. Twelve faces stare at me expectantly. The projector displays charts I should have been studying. Numbers that usually make perfect sense suddenly feel meaningless.
"Give me the executive summary again," I say, buying time.
Maxwell shoots me a look from across the table. Concern mixed with confusion. He knows something's wrong. We've been friends since college. He can read me better than anyone.
The CFO launches into an explanation I barely hear. My mind keeps drifting back to that elevator. To Kennedy's laugh in the darkness. The way she felt in my arms. How alive I felt for the first time since my father died.
Three weeks. It's been three weeks since the blackout, and nothing. Radio silence.
Did I imagine the connection? The way she kissed me back like she was drowning and I was air? The promise in her voice when she said she'd call?
"James." Maxwell's voice cuts through sharper this time. "You with us?"
Everyone's staring again. I realize I've missed another question.
"Table this until next week," I say abruptly, standing. "I need more data before we proceed."
I'm out the door before anyone can protest, Maxwell's footsteps following close behind.
"My office," I tell him. "Now."
Maxwell closes the door behind us, arms crossed. "Alright. What's going on? You've been checked out for weeks. That's not like you."
I move to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Puget Sound. Seattle spreads out below, thousands of buildings, millions of people. She's out there somewhere. I know she is.
"I met someone," I say finally.
Silence. Then, "You met someone? James, you're engaged."
"Was engaged." I turn to face him. "I ended things with Bianca two weeks ago."
His eyebrows shoot up. "You what? When were you planning to mention this?"
"It wasn't working. It never worked." I run a hand through my hair, a habit I can't seem to break lately. "We both knew it. The engagement was..." I search for the right word. "Convenient. Expected. Everything my grandmother wanted and nothing I did."
"Okay." Maxwell processes this, then sits in one of my office chairs. "So who is she? This woman you met."
"Her name is Kennedy." Just saying it out loud makes my chest ache. "I met her during the blackout. We were trapped in an elevator together for hours."
"And let me guess. You gave her your number and she hasn't called."
"I gave her my card. My direct line.
Everything." I pace the length of my office.
"She promised she'd call Max. She looked me in the eye and promised."
"Maybe she lost it. Maybe something came up. Maybe she's scared."
"Or maybe I completely misread everything." I stop pacing, leaning against my desk. "Maybe what felt earth-shattering to me was just a weird night to her. An adrenaline rush she'd rather forget."
Maxwell studies me with that analytical expression he gets when he's solving a problem. "You really care about this woman."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "I don't know how that's possible. I barely know her. But yes. I can't stop thinking about her."
He's quiet for a moment, then pulls out his phone. "Give me everything you know. Name, description, anything she told you."
"What are you doing?"
"Finding her." He looks up at me. "You're my best friend, and you're clearly miserable. Plus, you just bombed a board meeting, which has never happened in the ten years I've known you. So give me details."
I tell him everything. Her name. Her warm brown skin. The way her curls caught the emergency lighting. How she mentioned working two jobs. Her laugh. The tattoo I felt but couldn't see on her ribcage.
"Not a lot to work with," Maxwell admits. "But it's a start. I know a guy. Discreet private investigator. Former FBI. If anyone can find her, Derek can."
Hope flickers in my chest, dangerous and painful. "You think he can actually find her? In a city of four million people with just a first name?"
"Derek once tracked down a witness with less information than this. Give him a week."
Maxwell stands, gripping my shoulder. "In the meantime, try to focus on work. Your board is getting nervous."
After he leaves, I try. I really do. I respond to emails. Review contracts. Make calls to investors. But every female voice on the phone makes me freeze, hoping impossibly that it might be her.
My desk phone rings. I grab it too quickly.
"James Colton."
"Mr. Colton, your grandmother is on line two."
Not Kennedy. Of course not Kennedy. I press the button for line two. "Hello, Grandmother."
"James." Her voice carries that particular tone she uses when she's disappointed. "I just heard about you and Bianca. Please tell me the rumors aren't true."
"They're true. We ended the engagement."
"But why? Bianca is perfect for you. Beautiful, sophisticated, from a good family…."
"I don't love her." The words come out harder than intended. "I never did. We both knew it was an arrangement."
"An arrangement that benefited both of you," she counters. "Love is a luxury, James. Partnership is what matters in marriages like yours."
"Maybe I don't want a marriage like mine.
Maybe I want something real."
She sighs. "This is about that woman, isn't it?
The one from the elevator. Maxwell told me you've been distracted."
Of course Maxwell told her. They've been conspiring about my personal life since college. "Her name is Kennedy."
"And where is this Kennedy now? Why isn't she returning your calls if she's so important?"
The question hits harder than it should because I've been asking myself the same thing. "I don't know."
"Then perhaps that's your answer." Her voice softens slightly. "I know you think I'm meddling, but I want you to be happy. Your father would want that too."
My father. Always my father. The shadow I can never quite step out of. "I know."
"Come to dinner this weekend. We'll talk properly. And James? Whatever you're looking for, I hope you find it."
After we hang up, I stare at my phone again.
Still no missed calls. No messages.
Where are you, Kennedy?
Derek calls three days later.
"I found seventeen women named Kennedy in the Seattle metro area who fit your age range," he says without preamble. "Narrowed it down to six who work multiple jobs. I'm running background checks now, but I'll need more time to confirm which one is your mystery woman."
"How much more time?"
"Another week. Maybe two. These things take patience, Mr. Colton."
Patience. I've never been good at patience.
That night, I dreamt about the elevator. About Kennedy's voice in the darkness saying my name. But when the emergency lights come on, I reach for her and she's gone. Just empty space where she should be.
I wake up alone in my penthouse, the city lights bleeding through the windows, and wonder if I'm chasing a ghost.
My phone sits on the nightstand, silent and dark.
Still no call.
One month after the blackout, Bianca showed up at my office unannounced.
"We need to talk," she says, sweeping past my assistant before anyone can stop her.
She looks flawless as always. Platinum hair perfectly styled. Designer dress that probably costs more than most people's monthly rent.
But her eyes are cold when they meet mine.
"Bianca. I thought we said everything we needed to say."
"You said everything. I listened." She sits without being invited, crossing her legs elegantly. "But I think you're making a mistake, James. Throwing away what we had for some fantasy."
"We didn't have anything real."
"We had an understanding. Stability. A future." She leans forward. "This woman from the elevator, do you even know her last name? Her background? What if she's after your money?"
"She doesn't know who I am." The words taste bitter. "She hasn't even called."
"Exactly." Bianca's smile is sharp. "She's playing you. Making you chase her. It's the oldest trick in the book."
"Or maybe she lost my card. Or she's scared. Or any number of things that don't involve manipulation."
"You always see the best in people." She stands, smoothing her dress. "It's one of your most endearing qualities and your biggest weakness. I hope you find her, James. I really do. Because when you discover she's not the fantasy you've built in your head, you'll realize what you gave up."
After she leaves, her perfume lingers.
Expensive and cloying.
Nothing like Kennedy, who smelled like coffee and vanilla and something uniquely her.
I turn back to my computer, pulling up the file Derek sent. Photos of six different women named Kennedy stare back at me.
Which one are you?
My phone buzzes. Finally, But it's just Maxwell: Derek says he's close. Hang in there.
I set the phone down and return to the photos, studying each face like I might find answers in pixels and profiles.
Somewhere in this city, Kennedy is living her life. Maybe thinking about me. Maybe not.
Either way, I'm not giving up.
Not yet.
- Writer
