Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Daniel’s POV
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Stanley and I used to hang out all the time, grabbing drinks, catching a game, or just shooting the breeze about life. But ever since the divorce with Tasha, he had been angry with me, not that he’d ever say it outright. It was in the way he looked at me, the way his voice got tight whenever her name came up. He blamed me for it, I knew. Hell, I blamed myself too, most days. But none of us were prepared for what happened after.
After Tasha left, it was like she vanished off the face of the earth. Every line of contact we had for her was disabled. No phone number, no email, nothing. I had my people try to track her down, but she was always… not found, leaving no trace behind. Stanley and I even tried some old friends, mutual Dacquaintances, but no one knew.
It was like she didn’t want to be found. And maybe that was for the best. She deserved her freedom, her space, after everything I’d put her through. But still, it gnawed at me. The not knowing. Not knowing where she was, how she was doing, if she was okay. It was a constant ache that sat heavy in my chest, no matter how much I tried to bury it.
I stared at the message for a moment. The truth was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted company tonight. The meeting with Belvoir Couture had been a whirlwind, and my mind was still racing with all the possibilities it opened up. But maybe that was the point, I needed a break, a chance to unwind and clear my head before diving into this new venture.
After a few seconds of deliberation, I typed back a quick reply.
“Yeah, I’m free. What’s the plan?”
Almost immediately, Stanley’s response popped up.
“Great! Drinks at our usual spot? Say 8 PM?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. The “usual spot” was a bar we used to frequent, a place that was both familiar and anonymous enough to let me blend into the background when I needed to.
W See
“See you there,” I replied.
I glanced at the time. It was still early in the afternoon, but at least now I had something to look forward to. A night out with Stanley might be exactly what I needed to get out of my own head for a while.
I put my phone down and took a deep breath. Tonight, I’d try to forget about work, about Tasha, about everything. Just for a few hours, I’d let myself unwind.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I stood up and grabbed my coat. Time to wrap things up at the office.
I arrived at the bar Stanley had picked, a low–lit place downtown that was far from the flashy spots Venessa preferred. It had a kind of old–school charm to it, with dark wood paneling and worn leather booths. The kind of place where you could have a drink in peace and not be bothered by anyone. Stanley was already there, sitting at a booth in the corner with a half–empty glass in front of him.
“About time,” he muttered as I slid into the seat across from him.
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Chapter Fifteen
“Traffic,” I replied, even though we both knew it was a lie. I just hadn’t been sure I wanted to come tonight. Not with how things were between us lately.
He eyed me for a moment, then nodded towards the bartender. “Another round?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, waving a hand. “Why not.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, the noise of the bar filling the space between us. It wasn’t until our drinks arrived that Stanley finally spoke.
“So, how’s business?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.
“Busy.” I replied, shrugging. “You know how it is.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. I could feel the tension building, the unspoken words hanging in the air. I took a sip of my drink, trying to ignore it, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he brought it
- up.
“You know,” he said after a while, his voice low, “you can’t keep doing this forever.”
I looked at him, confused. “Doing what?”
*Pretending everything’s fine,” he replied. “Avoiding the topic. Avoiding her.”
There it was. The conversation I’d been dreading.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “She’s gone, Stanley. I have to move on.”
“Have you, though?” he asked, leaning forward. “Have you really moved on, or are you just pretending to?”
I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to snap back at him. He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t ready to admit that. Not yet.
“Look,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away, “I’m here tonight to catch up, not to rehash the past.”
“Fair enough,” Stanley said, sitting back in his seat. “But just know, it’s been a while we talk, I’m here when you’re ready to talk. About any of it.”
I nodded, grateful for the change in topic, but also knowing that he wouldn’t let this go so easily.
“Speaking of catching up,” he continued, his tone more casual now, “I heard about the Belvoir Couture- project. That’s a big deal.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it is. We’re in talks about a potential investment. It’s a solid–opportunity.”
Stanley raised an eyebrow. “Investment? You’re not looking to get back into the fashion scene, are you?”
“Not directly,” I replied. “But it’s a lucrative project, and they’re opening a huge branch in New York. Could be worth getting involved.”
He let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a serious venture You sure you’re up for it?”
I gave him a wry smile. “Since when do you know me to back down from a challenge?”
Stanley chuckled, the tension easing just a bit. “True. You’ve never been one to take the easy route.”
We spent the next hour talking about business, the industry, and the future of the company. It was a relief
Chapter Fifteen
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to focus on something else for a change.
I kept drinking, ignoring the looks I was getting from the bartender and the people around me. Each glass felt like it might finally drown out the thoughts I couldn’t escape. The memories, the regret, it was all too much. Stanley was watching me, I could feel his eyes on me, but he didn’t say a word. He knew better than to try and stop me. Not tonight.
Time blurred as the drinks kept coming. I rambled on, half to myself, half to Stanley, about business, memories, things that I didn’t want to admit to anyone else. The alcohol was doing its job, numbing the pain just enough to get by. I couldn’t tell how many hours had passed before Stanley finally decided I had enough.
“Come on, man,” he said, getting an arm around me and pulling me off the bar stool. “Let’s get you home.”
I didn’t resist. I was too far gone to care. The ride back was a blur, I don’t even remember getting into the car. My head was spinning, the city lights outside the window blending into a kaleidoscope of colors. I muttered something, but even I couldn’t make sense of the words.
When we finally reached my apartment, Stanley helped me out of the car and up the elevator. By the time we got to my floor, I was mumbling to myself, eyes unfocused. He managed to unlock the door and guide me inside.
“All right, you’re home, “he said. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I nodded, or at least I think I did. Everything was hazy. Stanley left, and I staggered into the bedroom, kicking off my shoes and collapsing onto the bed. The room was spinning, and I buried my face into the pillow, trying to ground myself.
Then I felt it, someone next to me. I turned my head, eyes barely managing to focus, and saw the silhouette of a woman lying beside me.
For a split second, my heart leaped. “I’ve missed you,” I mumbled, the words slurring together. “I’m sorry for everything.” I reached out, fingers brushing against her arm. For that brief moment, I let myself belleve it was her, the one person I couldn’t stop thinking about, the one I had lost.
The warmth of another person next to me was almost comforting, almost enough to make me forget. But then she shifted closer, her scent hitting me like a bucket of cold water. Sweet, floral… and wrong. Not the scent I knew so well, not the one I had dreamed of countless nights.
Venessa. It was Venessa beside me, not the person I wished it were. The realization hit hard, a sharp stab of reality. I closed my eyes tightly, the pain almost unbearable.
I forced myself to stay still, not wanting to wake her. My body felt heavy, weighed down by the alcohol and the crushing disappointment. “I’m sorry,” I whispered again, though I didn’t know who I was saying it to Venessa, myself, or the ghost of the past I couldn’t let go of.
I turned my face into the pillow, trying to choke back the tears that threatened to spill. The room continued to spin, and I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.
