Chapter 153
~ Clinton ~
The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap. Annie stood there with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on mine, waiting for an explanation. I could see the suspicion already clouding her expression.
"She’s just my friend," I said finally, keeping my voice steady.
"Hmm...just your friend?" she repeated, tilting her head with clear disbelief.
"Yes. Our companies have a business partnership. That’s all."
"No," Annie said slowly, placing her hands on her hips. "I think it’s more than that."
I frowned, irritation prickling under my skin. "What do you an?"
"She called you, and the way she asked for you... it sounded like you two were planning to et up sowhere. Like it was personal."
My frown deepened. "There’s nothing going on between Octavia and , okay? We’re just friends. You don’t have to drag this out, Annie."
She studied for a long mont, her eyes searching my face. "Are you sure you’re just friends? Because I don’t know... I don’t—"
"Believe ? Is that what you were going to say?" I finished for her, my tone sharper than I intended.
She paused, lips pressed together, before speaking again. "You told last night that there was no woman in your life. Didn’t you?"
"Yes, I said that. And it’s true—I don’t have a woman in my life."
"Then why does this feel like you’re lying to ?" Her voice cracked with quiet sadness.
"Because you’re letting negative thoughts fill your head," I replied, though the words tasted bitter even as I said them.
"I just want to be the only woman in your life, Clint," she whispered, vulnerability shining in her eyes.
The response slipped out before I could stop it. "Well, apparently you aren’t."
Annie’s face crumpled. "What?"
I sighed heavily, regret flooding through instantly. I needed to tell her the truth—at least part of it. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was still in love with Octavia. That would destroy her completely.
"Why are you acting like we’re already in a committed relationship?" I asked, frustration and guilt mixing in my chest.
"Because I thought we were," she said softly, her voice trembling. "Didn’t we sleep together last night? Doesn’t that an sothing?"
"Sleeping with you doesn’t automatically an we’re in a fucking relationship, Annie!" The words burst out harsher than I ant them to.
The mont they left my mouth, I regretted them. Annie’s eyes widened in shock, pain flashing across her face like I had slapped her. The beautiful morning we had shared crumbled right in front of .
"So... what we had was just a one-night stand?" she asked after a heavy silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I... I don’t know," I stuttered, feeling like an idiot.
"You know exactly what it was, Clint. You just don’t want to say it out loud." Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. Without another word, she brushed past and headed straight for the bedroom.
Realizing how badly I had ssed up, I hurried after her. "Annie, I’m sorry—"
She was already undressing, pulling on her own clothes with hurried, angry movents. "No, you’re not sorry, Clint. You ant every word. I was such a fool to think what we had was real. I actually believed you loved ... but I was wrong."
"No, I was wrong," I said quickly, reaching for her. "I shouldn’t have said those hurtful things. I—"
"Stop, Clint." She cut off, grabbing her jacket and purse. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes red-rimd. "Just stop."
I could see how deeply hurt she was, and it twisted sothing painful inside .
"It’s obvious you don’t love ," she continued, her voice breaking. "I just... I don’t want to see you again."
She pushed past and headed for the front door. I followed, desperation rising in my throat. "Annie, please. I’m sorry."
She paused at the threshold, tilting her head slightly as if gathering the last of her strength. Then she opened the door and walked out without looking back, leaving standing there feeling utterly hollow and furious with myself for hurting soone who had only shown kindness and affection.
Later that afternoon, I sat in my office, the weight of the morning still pressing heavily on my chest. I picked up my phone and dialed Franklin. He answered on the third ring, his voice sounding drained.
"Harrington."
"Flemington, hey... I just called to check on your grandfather. How is he?"
"He’s... still in a coma," Franklin replied, the words clearly difficult for him to say.
"Try to hold onto hope. He’ll wake up soon."
"I have hope," he said flatly.
"That’s good to hear." An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Rembering the missed call from Octavia earlier— the one Annie had seen—I decided to ask. "How’s Octavia now? She must be awake by now."
"She’s..." Franklin hesitated. "She’s awake."
I furrowed my brows. "Okay. I was hoping I could co see her today."
"Now is not a good ti to see her, Harrington," he said with a heavy sigh.
"Why not?"
"Like I said, now isn’t a good ti."
"Okay..." I replied slowly, sensing the wall he was putting up. "Any luck finding that asshole secretary of yours?"
"Not yet." His tone grew colder. "Listen, I’ve got to go."
Before I could say anything more, the line went dead. Franklin clearly wasn’t in the right headspace. His grandfather’s condition was weighing on him heavily, and that was completely understandable.
I set the phone down and stared at Octavia’s na in the call log, my thumb hovering over the screen. Part of desperately wanted to hear her voice, to know how she was doing now that she was awake from the propofol effect. But after the disaster with Annie, I couldn’t bring myself to call. Not yet.
Instead, I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as thoughts of Annie flooded my mind. I had fucked up. Badly.
Guilt gnawed at until I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my phone again and dialed her number. It rang... and rang... but she didn’t pick up. I tried six more tis with the sa result. Each unanswered call sent straight to her cheerful voicemail.
"Hey, this is Annie. Leave a ssage after the beep."
The sound of her bright voice made my stomach twist. After the tone, I spoke quickly, my words clumsy with remorse.
"Hey Annie...I was calling to apologize. I don’t know what ca over this morning. Can you please call back? I’m really sorry."
I ended the ssage and sent it, then dropped the phone on my desk. Now I was left wondering how I was going to face her, how I could possibly make this right. I had hurt her deeply, all because I couldn’t sort out my own tangled feelings.
With a long, frustrated sigh, I stared up at the ceiling, already ntally rehearsing better apologies—ones that might actually stand a chance of fixing the ss I had created.
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