Mr. Notting Hill, page 20
“You haven’t been picking anyone since Mike. And I get it, it’s difficult to trust anyone when you’ve been violated like that, but Tristan seemed to genuinely care about you.”
I’d thought so too. “He’s lied to me from the start. And he has no issue invading my privacy. I can’t trust anyone.”
“Come on,” Sutton said. “You know that’s not true. Your father was right when he said that Tristan was in an impossible position.”
“I can get my head around that. Just. But there’s been plenty of time since the beginning that he could have told me. When should his loyalty have shifted from my father to me?”
“He was probably just waiting . . .” She grimaced like she didn’t have a good explanation for Tristan not telling me what my father knew.
“For what?”
“I don’t know, a good time to say something? You need to talk to him about it. Ask him why he didn’t mention it at some point.”
“If he’d had a good reason, he would have told me. And I don’t want to talk to him now I know he’s been monitoring me. It feels weird—creepy—like I’m in a stalker special on Netflix.”
“Maybe he just didn’t see it as important. He was trying to protect you, I think. How have you left it with him?”
My stomach rolled once, then twice, then three times. “Tomorrow is ninety days. I get access to my trust fund the day after.”
“Ninety days doesn’t mean anything.”
“Tristan agreed on ninety days and no more. He’s a man of his word. As far as he’s concerned, he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain.”
“But he hasn’t said any of that. You need to talk to him. Figure stuff out with him. I’m sure you two can work through this.”
“I’ve not spoken to him since I left.”
“So call him. Or ask him to come over.”
I picked up the A4 brown envelope from the coffee table that had been delivered earlier and handed it to her.
She took it from me, her eyes not leaving mine as she opened it. “Postnup? And divorce papers?”
“We had them all drawn up before getting married. We were both given copies. Never got round to signing the postnup. I guess he decided he’d do both at the same time.” I tapped on the back page where Tristan had signed the divorce papers.
“So, you’re divorced now?”
“We have to wait a year. But I don’t have to see him again.”
“You think he’s just trying to make life easier for you, or do you think he’s sending you a message that he’s out?”
I let out a bitter half-laugh. “I’m not sure we need to make a distinction. He’s done.”
“But maybe he just thinks you’re done.”
“I am.” I took the papers from her and shoved them back into the envelope. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I’m sorry,” Sutton said.
“It doesn’t matter. Four months ago, I’d never even laid eyes on the guy. This will pass.” As I said it, my heart banged in my ribcage, shouting Don’t be so sure about that. “I just wish . . . I feel like at the first opportunity to run, off he went. I was hurt—I am hurt by the fact that he knew my father knew our wedding was a ploy to get hold of my trust fund. But I wanted to get over it. I wanted him to say he was sorry and prove that since then things have changed. I wanted to know his loyalty was with me now. I wanted to get over it and then bam, the email monitoring? It puts him in a completely different light . . . I really liked him.” My voice began to crack. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears. “I thought he was different to who he turned out to be.”
Sutton took my hand and pulled it into her lap. “This is awful. But I don’t think he was just looking for a way out and he took the first exit he was offered. I don’t know him that well, but he came across as a guy who just wanted to make you happy.”
“You have another explanation for divorce papers?”
“What if he thought that’s what you wanted? Maybe you should go round and see him? Can you use the excuse of going to collect your stuff?”
I sighed. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to be with a man who pretends to be one thing—honest and trustworthy and focused on me and what will make me happy, like you said—when in fact he’s monitoring me without telling me and reading my private messages. Mike wasn’t the man I thought he was. Tristan wasn’t the man I thought he was. I clearly can’t be trusted to see what’s right in front of me.” I needed to go back to my life before Tristan. I’d been perfectly happy and I would be again. I hoped.
Thirty-Two
Tristan
The last thing I wanted to do was go for drinks with mates. But being at home just reminded me of Parker. I’d eaten nothing but Uber Eats for a week because I couldn’t spend any time in the kitchen. I’d moved bedrooms to the top floor because I couldn’t sleep in my bed without her. I was stretching out the time I spent in my office because what else would I do but work?
Not being with Parker was worse than expected. I was more miserable than I could have possibly imagined.
“Hey, Tristan,” Brigette, the hostess at the Mayfair bar Beck had nominated today, greeted me with warm familiarity.
I managed a smile. Brigette was five ten, blonde, smile as wide as the Atlantic. She was also usually subject to my very best flirtation. We’d usually go back and forth—I’d tell her I’d like to take her out, show her the best date of her life. She would tell me there was nothing she’d like better but she wasn’t allowed to date patrons. I would tell her that I was worth giving up her job for. She would tell me she’d have to have a ring first, etcetera.
But not tonight.
I didn’t have it in me.
“Great to see you again, how have you been doing?” she asked.
“Good,” I said. “Is Beck here yet?”
She stiffened at my reaction but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “Right this way.” She showed me to the table where Dexter and Beck were already seated.
“Holy shit, what happened?” Dexter asked. “You look like your cat died.”
“Have you ordered drinks?” I asked.
“What do you want?” Beck asked.
“Anything alcoholic,” I replied.
“I’ll get it,” Beck said. “Anyone object to champagne? I feel like we should celebrate the first baby of the group being born. That one is going to have to play referee between her parents her entire life.”
“Sofia had the baby?” I asked.
“A little girl. They put a picture on the group chat,” Beck said. “You didn’t see it?”
I’d turned my phone off because I’d been obsessively checking to see if Parker had called or messaged. It was sending me half mad. “I must have missed it. A girl. Right. That’s nice.”
“Mate, you’re not very convincing,” Dexter said. “Anyone would think I told you they just bought a sofa.”
“I’m genuinely happy for them,” I said.
“Then tell your face,” Dexter said. “What’s got into you? I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just have a lot going on at work and . . . you know, I’m not sure this thing with Parker is going to work out.”
“Did I just hear that right?” Beck said, coming back with champagne. “Parker is amazing and great for you. What’s the problem?”
“It’s nothing to do with her specifically.” She specifically was amazing; Beck was right. “I just don’t think I’m made to be with someone in the long term. I’ve always said that.”
Beck and Dexter both stayed silent. I looked up in time to see them exchange a glance.
“What?” I asked.
“I was just thinking we need Andrew,” Dexter said.
Beck cleared his throat. “Or Gabriel at least.”
“All of us probably need to be here,” Dexter added.
“I don’t need an intervention. I’m different from you lot. I never saw myself with anyone.”
“I know,” Beck said. “What’s brought this mood on?”
I thought back to the divorce papers I’d sent her yesterday. She needed space. She’d had a lot to take in. I hadn’t kept her safe. I understood it.
I explained to Beck and Dexter what happened when Parker found out Arthur had known about our ruse all along. And then how she’d completely overreacted about the email monitoring.
“But you barely knew her then. You owed your loyalty to Arthur.”
“Agreed. But at the same time, I could have told her after things developed between us, even though Arthur had asked me not to. She would have been angry at me either way, but I think the right thing to do would have been to encourage her to speak to her father before now.” I regretted that. It was a testament to her character that she went to tell her father the full story before she got her hands on her trust. I should have encouraged that at least.
“You should have asked her before you started monitoring her emails,” Beck said. “That’s kinda not okay.”
“She knew I was trying to get to the bottom of what was going on with the money transfers and the break-ins. I told her I put cameras in her house. And she knew I was monitoring her bank accounts. Of course I was monitoring her email.”
Beck sighed. “I don’t think she would have necessarily assumed you were monitoring her emails. It’s normal for you to hack into someone’s private messages but not normal for most normal people.”
Maybe I should have told her. I really hadn’t thought it was a big deal. I’d assumed she’d known.
“Okay, so you had a falling out,” Dexter said. “Isn’t it fixable?”
I went on to tell them about her ex and the would-be kidnapping attempt. “It’s completely understandable that she’d want her space after finding out something like that,” I said.
“Is it?” Beck asked. “What am I missing?”
“She’s been under a tremendous amount of stress—her life was potentially in jeopardy. The last thing she needs is me.”
“What are you talking about?” Dexter asked. “She needs you now more than ever.”
“She asked for space. I’m not going to argue with her. It’s completely understandable that our relationship wouldn’t weather this storm. Her ex was a nasty piece of work.”
“I’ve never seen you with a woman the way you were with Parker. Don’t your feelings for her make you want to fight for her?” Dexter said.
I let out a laugh. “My feelings about her are precisely why I don’t want to fight.”
“I’m not following you,” Beck said.
“Maybe we could get over this, but I don’t know if she could ever trust me again. But say we do, and then what? We build our lives together and then something hits us that we can’t recover from. Where does that leave us?”
“So you’re saying leave now because it won’t hurt as much?” Dexter said.
I shrugged. There was nothing to add. Dexter had boiled it down to its core.
“No,” Beck said. “If she’s the kind of woman you’d never recover from losing—that’s the one you have to chase. That’s the woman you have to fight for.”
“Why?” It made no sense to me. Better I protect us both from getting our hearts ripped out and our lives destroyed at a later date.
“Well first of all, because what you’re feeling right now—that snarling dog of regret that howls at you every night—isn’t going to go away.”
Dexter started nodding as if he knew what the hell Beck was talking about.
“That regret will burrow deep—so deep eventually you’ll come to realize that not fighting for her was the worst mistake of your life. But worse than that, you’ll never be all the man you could be if you don’t have her by your side. If she’s the right woman, she’ll challenge you in a way that makes you better. She’ll love you in a way that makes you stronger. Just being with her will make you more of the person you were always meant to be.”
I felt trapped, paralyzed with fear as a juggernaut of truth came at me at a hundred miles an hour. What Beck was saying made sense. Parker made me better. I knew I was happier, stronger, more with her by my side. “But I’m not in control of everything. If she doesn’t want me, I can’t change that. If she dies, I can’t change that. If she wants a divorce when we’ve got kids and a life together . . . that will break me.”
I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back a lifetime’s worth of hurt. Being with Parker was even more terrifying than being without her. What if she put herself in danger again and got hurt? What if she left me? I’d rebuilt my life after my family was torn apart. I wasn’t sure I could do it a second time.
Dexter slung his arm around my shoulder. “That’s why you need her. Because you’ll be broken without her. There’s always a risk that somewhere down the line, something will change and tear you apart. Grief. Death. Whatever it is. But to avoid joy, to avoid life to keep yourself safe, isn’t living.”
Beck nodded solemnly. “You can’t avoid life, mate. You can’t purposefully avoid falling in love with the woman you’re meant to be with. It’s not right. I think your parents would tell you the same thing.”
I never talked about my sister with my parents. I never spoke about their divorce or the way my childhood had been overshadowed by illness, death, and divorce. What was the point? I’d learned my lesson—that I never wanted to feel like that again. I’d always thought that the easiest way to make that happen was not to care too much about anyone. Now with Parker gone, I was beginning to feel like I’d already let things go too far.
Thirty-Three
Parker
As we sat around the boardroom table talking about the next six months’ strategy for Sunrise, I had to constantly pull my attention back to the room. My mind kept wandering back to Tristan, to the way he’d told me he’d lie to me again if he had to do things all over again, the way he held my hand as he told me about Mike, the divorce papers sitting on my bedside table at home.
“I think another auction would be a great idea,” someone said. “The last one raised a lot of money.
“That’s because Parker had her husband bid,” another person answered.
I forced a smile, glancing at my ring finger on my left hand. I still wore the rings he’d given me. I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to take them off. When I moved out? When I signed the divorce papers? When I got over him?
“We can’t do another auction before the next gala, which isn’t until next year,” I said. “We should keep it as a special event.”
“Do you think we can convince Tristan to put himself up next year?” Ana said.
I bristled at the question. He was still my husband and would be for a while yet. We couldn’t file the divorce papers for months. But I wasn’t naïve. Even if he wasn’t put up for auction, Tristan would be dating soon enough.
“I’m not sure he’ll be amenable,” I said, trying to keep my tone as soft as possible.
“That’s a shame,” Ana replied. “I’d have bid.”
I checked the time on my phone. “I’m going to have to excuse myself. I have a meeting with a potential donor.”
I stood and exited the boardroom. I needed distraction, not discussion about Tristan. I turned into the reception area and saw someone waiting. Maybe my meeting was early.
“Parker, Mr. Fisher is here for you.”
I turned, and the elderly man in the grey suit in reception stood.
“Parker Frazer?”
I smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand. “Mr. Fisher.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“And you. Let’s go through to a meeting room.” I guided us down the corridor, invited him to sit, and set about pouring us some coffee.
“I must ask,” Mr. Fisher said. “I couldn’t help notice the spelling of your surname. Any relation to Arthur Frazer?”
“Yes,” I said. “Arthur is my dad.”
“He’s a good man. Rare that you get someone who’s so successful who doesn’t have any enemies. You can always count on him to do the right thing.” Mr. Fisher chuckled to himself. “I know it’s not a fashionable thing to say, but I honestly believe that it was because he married young and stayed married that he managed to keep balance in his life. He kept his priorities straight. We all need to remember that first and foremost we are someone’s son, daughter, husband, wife, mother, father.”
“I agree. It’s important to remember who we are to the people we love first and foremost.”
Did Tristan think of me as his wife in anything but name? Did he love me like I was beginning to realize I loved him?
“Exactly,” he said as sadness swept over his face. “My granddaughter means everything to me. She’s suffering, but we’re lucky that we can pay for the best possible medical care. I want to give something to your charity so that other families get the same opportunities we have.” He blinked back tears.
I clasped a hand over his. “I’m so sorry. It’s a terrible time.”
He nodded and I took away my hand as he regained his composure. “I keep telling my son that he must hold his wife and children close. And he tries. But it’s so much pressure on him and on them as a family.”
I nodded, wanting to listen to his pain, hoping it would lessen if he had someone to talk to. “I worry about my grandson too. He’s not having the childhood he should. Everyone is so focused on illness and hospitals. It’s just awful.”
I thought back to how Tristan must have felt as a helpless child when his sister was getting treatment and then died. He must have felt powerless. And then when his parents split, his world fell apart.
The urge to drop everything and run to him was almost overwhelming. I wanted him to feel better. I knew he carried that pain with him still.
“I just hope they push through together as a family. As a unit. They’re stronger together.”
Mr. Fisher kept talking but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. All I could think about was Tristan, and how his family unit had disintegrated when he needed them most. He must live in fear of people abandoning him when he needed them the most. Had I been guilty of that? Tristan should have told me about my dad knowing about our arrangement, and he shouldn’t have been monitoring my emails without my permission, but did that mean he wasn’t the man I thought he was?
