The Spaces We Mend
1216 Words
Chapter Eight: The Spaces We Mend
Isla never expected her name to trend on social media.
Not like this.
By Friday morning, the photos had exploded across every gossip blog and office thread in the city. Everyone had an opinion: Some called her a social climber. Some said it was about time Adrian Maddox dated someone “normal.” Others speculated about inappropriate workplace behavior and executive favoritism.
The only people who weren’t talking were Isla and Adrian.
After he left her apartment Thursday night, they didn’t text. Didn’t call. Both knew silence was a protective layer, one they each needed to breathe. But it didn't make it easier.
Jules barged into her apartment the next morning with bagels, coffee, and a face full of judgment.
“I’m telling you this as your best friend,” she said, setting the food down. “You look like you slept in an emotional blender.”
Isla slumped on the couch. “I feel like it, too.”
“Do you regret it?” Jules asked gently.
“No.” Isla sighed. “But I’m terrified. I keep waiting for the catch. Like maybe this is all a test and I’m going to fail.”
“You’re not,” Jules said, sitting beside her. “Adrian isn’t perfect. But neither are you. That’s what makes it real. You push each other. You grow. That’s the point.”
Isla leaned her head against the cushions. “I don’t want to fall apart again.”
“Then don’t fall. Choose. That’s the difference.”
She closed her eyes. “I hate when you’re right.”
“I know.” Jules grinned. “It’s part of my charm.”
---
Back at the office, the tension was suffocating.
When Isla stepped onto her floor, heads turned. Conversations stopped. It was the kind of scrutiny that felt less like curiosity and more like accusation. She kept her chin high, made it to her desk, and opened her laptop like everything was normal.
It wasn’t.
Adrian had emailed her—brief, professional, offering a meeting to “discuss next steps regarding media engagement.” He signed it “A. Maddox,” which felt like a punch in the chest.
So that’s how they were playing it.
She responded with a simple: “Understood. 3 p.m. works.”
It felt like pretending. But what else could she do?
When 3:00 came, she knocked on his office door and entered to find him alone, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loose. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.
He stood as she walked in, closed the door behind her, and locked it.
“I figured we’d need privacy,” he said.
She nodded.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then he sighed and leaned against the desk.
“I hate this,” he said quietly.
“Which part?”
“The way they’re talking about you. The way they’re looking at you. Like you’re just another rumor.”
“I’m used to being underestimated.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
She studied him. “And what about you? Are you planning to keep calling me ‘Ms. Carter’ in emails and pretending this isn’t happening?”
He met her gaze. “I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to protect the company.”
“And me?”
He hesitated. “Yes. But I didn’t do it well.”
She crossed her arms. “So what now? Do we keep hiding? Or do we face it?”
Adrian stepped closer. “I don’t want to hide. Not from you. Not from this.”
She blinked. “Then say it.”
He took a breath. “I care about you, Isla. More than I should, more than I planned. And if we’re going to do this, we do it right. No secrets. No shame.”
Her voice came out softer than she intended. “You mean that?”
He reached for her hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Then let’s go public.”
He blinked. “Are you sure?”
She smiled. “No. But I’m ready.”
---
The next day, Adrian released a statement.
“Maddox Industries does not condone favoritism or unethical conduct. The recent rumors regarding my personal relationship with Isla Carter are true—we are seeing each other, and we are navigating this with transparency and professionalism. Ms. Carter’s talent, drive, and integrity are undeniable. I ask for the respect and decency she deserves.”
It went viral in less than an hour.
Most people were shocked. Some were disgusted. A few were supportive. But for Isla, the most important thing wasn’t public reaction.
It was Adrian’s.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide.
He stood beside her.
---
That night, they went to dinner—publicly—at a quiet rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. It was understated, elegant, private enough for comfort but visible enough to send a message.
As the sun dipped below the skyline, Isla sat across from him, watching him study the wine list like this was any normal date.
“I still can’t believe you did it,” she said.
He glanced up. “What?”
“The statement. The dinner. All of it.”
He smiled. “You’re worth the noise.”
She shook her head, half-laughing. “If you’d told me two months ago that I’d be dating the infamously cold CEO of Maddox Industries…”
“You would’ve run.”
“Absolutely.”
“And now?”
She looked at him. “Now I know you’re not cold. You’re scared. Just like me.”
His fingers brushed hers across the table. “I’m not scared anymore.”
“Liar.”
He grinned. “Okay. Maybe a little.”
She softened. “Good.”
---
After dinner, they didn’t rush back to her place or his. They drove around the city, windows down, music low, hands laced on the console between them.
They stopped by the pier, walked along the edge, and sat on a bench watching waves lap at the shore.
“Do you think we’ll survive this?” Isla asked quietly.
Adrian looked at her. “We already are.”
“Even when the press keeps digging?”
“We’ll give them nothing else to find.”
“Even if the board gets involved?”
He shrugged. “I’ll remind them I own majority shares.”
She laughed, head falling back.
And then he turned toward her, more serious. “Even if all of that crumbles—if the press hates us, if the company turns on me, if the world doesn’t understand—I’ll still choose you.”
Her throat tightened.
“Because for the first time,” he said, “I’m building something worth more than a company. I’m building something with you.”
Isla didn’t respond with words.
She kissed him.
Slow, deep, grateful.
And somewhere in the quiet between waves and city lights, they both knew something had shifted.
They weren’t enemies anymore.
They weren’t just lovers either.
They were partners.
And they were in this—fully, finally, and maybe forever.
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