Gen
That report damn near killed me. I can’t remember when I last had to work this hard, and I hope I won’t have to ever again.
To my dismay, my suspicions were on point, and Ralf and his team didn’t take the assignment as seriously as they should have. I’m the one leaving a day earlier, so I’d be the one blamed if it’s incomplete. This means my team worked twice as hard as his, and I worked five times harder than anyone else.
But at least it’s done, and I can take my Friday off without getting penalized for it or compromising the promotion I’m after. Alas, it means finishing at two in the morning and not getting to see Jake before taking off to the Hamptons for the weekend.
I briefly saw him twice since the Edward incident, which is way too little. He doesn’t complain about it, even though I can feel how reluctant he is whenever he has to leave earlier than he normally would. We’ve agreed that I’ll try to return not too late on Sunday and go straight to him. I’ll even spend the night at his place, and since I have my car with me, I’ll drive to work on Monday morning and keep my weekend things in the trunk.
With everything going on, I almost forgot it was my birthday. But I received a text from Jake a little after midnight, while I was still up in the NexaCorp tower, that read, “Happy birthday, red.” That energized me enough to push through and finish everything within the next couple of hours. Then, this morning, I woke up to a text from Hana, also wishing me a happy birthday. Now, I’m not expecting texts or calls from anyone else.
I don’t have a Facebook account that’ll remind everyone of it, and I don’t have any friends close enough to care to set a reminder for it. As for my parents, they tend to forget that today isn’t just Victoria’s day. Eddie won’t message me either, that’s for sure.
After his unexpected visit, I hired a moving team to pack up every last thing he left behind and deliver it to the place he shares with his friend. My apartment feels a little empty now, but I’ll quickly fill the spaces left by Eddie’s complete disappearance from my life. That void is only material though, because mentally and physically, I’ve never felt more fulfilled. Which is insane, because I want even more of Jake despite him being infinitely more than any man I’ve had before him.
I’m just done packing my things when my phone buzzes from a text. It’s Jake again.
Wombat Guy
Have a safe drive today, love. Text me when you get there.
Me
I will. And I’ll let you know when I have an ETA for Sunday!
Wombat Guy
Perfect. Happy birthday again, sweetheart.
Today doesn’t feel as emotional as I expected, and I think it’s because of him. He’s been distracting me from my gloomy thoughts, even more than the report I’ve been working on. Every free moment my brain has is devoted to Jake—daydreams that involve him, fantasies of what else we might try together, or reruns of moments and conversations we’ve had. He has become a solid obsession, and I’m not even trying to fight it. It brings me too much joy for that.
Because I barely ever use my car, it looks brand new despite having it since I moved to New York after Harvard. It’s an Audi A5 Cabriolet I gifted to myself for passing the bar. Because I don’t feel safe driving with the roof folded down when I’m stuck in traffic, it’s still on when I roll out of the building. About an hour later, once the city is in my rearview mirror, I make a quick pit stop to let it open. Then, I’m on my way again to East Hampton.
The drive is smooth but feels longer than it is. Probably because I’m apprehensive about spending the weekend with my parents. It’s never a walk in the park, but it gets even worse around this time of the year. And later today, there’s the “little” gathering Mother organized in loving memory of Victoria, which I’m also not looking forward to.
I feel guilty enough as it is. I don’t want to face everyone who ever loved or cared for her.
I’m making another pit stop when I receive an additional birthday text, which genuinely surprises me and warms me up inside.
Eli
Jake told me it’s your day, so happy birthday, Genny bean. I’ll buy you a drink at the DC when you come back (or five, so I can finally beat you at pool). Enjoy your weekend while I’m consoling Jake over here ;)
Me
You’ll never beat me. I’m a pool goddess.
Maybe I have more friends than I thought, after all.
The massive gates of the Kensington Estate feel ominously unwelcoming when I stop in front of them. I count to sixty in my head, building up more courage with each number, and then press on the intercom. A few seconds later, a cold “Yes?” emerges from the speaker.
“It’s Genevieve,” I say with a clear voice.
No one answers, but the gates slowly part. I drive through the three-hundred-yard lane and stop the car in front of the house. Or maybe I should call it a modern castle, because this can’t be called a mere house.
I’m just done taking my Louis Vuitton duffel bag out of the car when someone from the staff comes out to welcome me. “Miss Genevieve, I hope you had a good drive,” John greets me.
“I did, thank you.”
