CHAPTER 9
1331 Words
LILLIAN
I got an email the next day saying our counselor would be out of town for the next few days, so our meeting got canceled—that was strange—but hey, I wasn’t mad.
Honestly, relief washed over me when I read the email. I wasn’t mentally ready to sit across from him again, while I played the pretend game of acting like I hadn’t spent years trying to find him.
Joe didn’t waste any time either. He packed his suitcase like his life depended on the opportunity, throwing ties and dress shirts into neat, folded piles. He had a conference in Seattle and seemed almost giddy about it. He was going to be there for five days. Five days were he gave himself a break and didn’t have to be around me to pretend that our marriage wasn’t suffocating us both.
He left the bedroom, muttering something about his driver waiting, and was gone before I could even say goodbye.
The house fell quiet after the slam of the front door. The quietness pressed on me like an anchor.
That’s when my phone buzzed.
Vivian: Your home? Sleepover—your place or mine? I need your help with the final touches of my event plan, or I’ll cry.
I quickly typed back to my place, come over, grateful for the distraction.
She showed up an hour later, arms loaded with takeout, a laptop bag dangling from her shoulder, and her hair pulled into a messy bun that somehow made her look cooler than anyone on a bad day.
“Delivery for my baddest b***h,” she announced, sweeping past me into the living room like she owned the place.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re welcome.” She plopped the bags down, and the smell of fried rice, noodles and dumplings filled the air.
We spread everything out on the coffee table, laptop open, papers scattered. The event was only a day away, but she wanted us to do some touches, although her team had done everything—she loves perfection, I can’t blame her.
Between mouthfuls of noodles, we compared checklists, we reworked her schedule and what she was going to wear—my brand obviously.
Halfway through, she leaned back, her eyes sparkling like she was about to spill tea. “Okay, so… My agency told me one of our biggest sponsors is coming to the event.”
I raised a brow. “Why do you sound like you’re about to explode?”
“Because—it’s a secret. They didn’t want to say who, just that we need to make everything flawless.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Very hush-hush.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s amazing, Vivi! I’m so happy for you.” My face beamed with a wide smile.
But my smile slipped almost instantly, the weight of Monday pressing in, reminding me I still hadn’t told her.
“Speaking of secrets…” I murmured, my eyes drifting to the empty noodle plate in my hand. I played with the fork, debating whether to say it. Whether to drag her into the insanity that had been eating me alive since that counseling session.
She must have noticed the shift in my face because she immediately set her laptop aside. “Okay. Spill. Don’t you dare sit there and sulk like you're in some tragic drama.”
I laughed, sharp and humorless. “You remember how I told you counseling was… complicated when you texted me on Monday evening?”
“Yeah…” she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me he’s some quack who believes in crystals and tarot cards. Because if so, I’ll sue him.”
I set the empty takeout bowl down, leaning closer. “No. It’s worse. Much worse.”
“Define worse.”
I inhale slowly, forcing the words out before I can stop myself. “The counselor… is him.”
Her face went blank. Then, realization finally sank in. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Him? As in
him?”
I nodded. My throat suddenly went dry.
She slapped the sofa between us like that could shake some sense into me. “You’re telling me your marriage counselor is Ronan freaking Carter? The man whom you practically went off the grid for? The man you wouldn’t even say by name for years? That’s him?
“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper.
She groaned, dragging her hands down her face like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This is insane. This is, oh my gosh. No wonder you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“I didn’t know until I walked in,” I said, voice trembling despite my attempt to calm myself. “I thought I was hallucinating. And he just sat there, so calm, collected, and professional.”
She shook her head, eyes wide. “And Joe didn’t suspect a thing.”
“Of course not, Joe is too full of himself to realize anything.”
“Jesus, girl.” She exhaled dramatically. “Ending up with your ex in a weird kind of way? That’s
some mixed-up romance novel type of stuff.”
I managed a bitter smile. “Tell me about it.”
Her gaze softened then, the teasing replaced with concern. “Are you okay? Really?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “I don’t know.”
She reached over and pulled me into a tight,
warm hug. “Well, one thing's for sure, tomorrow’s going to be a blast and you’ll have so much fun.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
We eventually finished the planning, exhaustion sinking into our bones. I pushed myself up from the couch. “Popcorn?”
“Always.”
I padded into the kitchen, dropping the corn into the popcorn machine, the soft whir filling the quiet space. The smell of butter and sugar began to seep into the air when Vivian’s voice cut through, high-pitched and urgent.
“Girrrrlll! Come see this. Hurry!”
Something in her tone made my stomach clench. I rushed back to the living room, the popcorn forgotten, and found her glued to her phone, her mouth hanging open. She thrust it towards me without a word.
The headline screamed in bold black letters:
RONAN CARTER, 30, SEEN WITH SOCIALITE ELENA MARTINEZ, 28, AT THE PIERRE HOTEL THIS EVENING.
My eyes flicked down to the article.
The elusive billionaire bachelor, recently returned from a mysterious extended stay in Europe, was spotted in Manhattan tonight dining with Elena Martinez, daughter of the biggest shipping tycoon, Lorenzo Martinez. Witnesses report the two appeared ‘very close,’ laughing over champagne and lingering long after their meal. The sighting combs just weeks after Carter’s reappearance in New York society, fueling speculation about his personal life and potential business alliances. Well, Carter has remained notoriously private about his relationships, his new pairing with Martinez is already causing waves in social circles. Could this be the beginning of a powerful new power couple?
I didn’t read the rest. My chest was already burning. My pulse hammered in my ears.
“He’s in town?”
“What?”
Realizing I’d said that out loud, I slumped back on the sofa and glanced at my best friend, who was waiting for me to explain what I meant.
“He sent an email this morning saying all meetings were canceled for the next few days because he was going to be out of town.”
The room fell silent, and the walls felt like they were closing in on me. My best friend watched me carefully, waiting, but I couldn’t sit anymore. I stood, pacing, my hands clenched into fists.
He used to talk about the way he hated the public and anything that has to do with paparazzi and him ending up on the news. What game is he playing?
Why lie about not being in town?
What is he up to?
- Writer
