Edgar answered on the second ring, his voice gruff and warm at the same time. “Perfect timing, child. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this foundation—”
“I’m s-sorry, but c-can I ask you a question first?” She’d already cut him off before she realized what she was doing, and the guilt was terrible and instant.
This isn't me. So why am I doing it?
She had never cut someone off, but here she was, doing exactly that, and all because she got her heart broken?
“What’s wrong, Chelsea?”
The concern in the older man’s tone only made her feel more ashamed.
I don't want to be like this, God. I don't want to change, I don't want to start hurting people just because someone hurt me first.
Her fingers tightened around her phone, and she found herself choking out an apology. “I’m sorry for cutting you off.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I know you, child. Tell me what’s wrong. What do you want to ask?”
Her gaze strayed to her smartwatch.How strange,she thought again. The numbers were still within the normal range even as the pain kept growing. Her throat tightened, and she had to swallow hard several times before she could finally manage to ask—
“Do you k-know anything about the Marquez deal? Is it...is it t-true that he only stayed married to me to close it?”
The question gave birth to the most awful silence, and it just made her hurt more and more because she knew how Edgar’s mind worked, and so that awful, awful silence was an answer in itself.
“I’m sorry, Chelsea...”
She nearly threw up the moment she heard the words.
God, oh God.
Because she knew Edgar, and she knew he was a problem solver. She knew he wasn’t the type to just say things without thinking them through, and so for him to start with an apology—
Oh God.
It was akin to Edgar admitting that her marriage, oh God...
“S-So it’s true then?”
“It...could be.”
Oh, the heaviness in his tone.
It was terrible to hear, so, so hopelessly terrible that it caused her phone to slip from her suddenly nerveless fingers before landing face-up on the table.
Memories hit her, not in order, and not gently either. They came the way pain came, all at once, from everywhere, with no regard for what she could bear.
She remembered the dinner from three nights ago, and the older couple who’d welcomed her with incredible warmth. She remembered feeling shy but also giddy, with how Olivio had his arm around her waist as he introduced her to their hosts. Their names meant nothing out of the ordinary back then.
But it did so now, for the couple was none other than Jun and Miriam...Marquez.
“Are you still there, Chelsea?”
The worry drew her out of her thoughts, but it was just like leaving one hurtful world for another. “Y-Yes. I’m still here.”
“Talk to him about it, Chelsea,” the older man urged. “I’m not lying when I say I can’t be sure. The topic never came up. I only say it’s possible because everyone knows about the Marquezes—”
Edgar broke off, no longer able to speak because of the sound coming from the other end of the line.
Oh, child.
