The Scotch Series: The Complete Series (Scotch #1-3) - Penelope Sky Page 0,215

crept into her lips. “Ariel stopped by for money?”

“Yeah. She has some stuff at Fair Isle as well. I’ll have to have someone fly out and bring it to her.”

She nodded slightly. “You aren’t gonna try to talk to her again?”

“No.” Ariel wouldn’t change her mind unless I gave her what she wanted. I walked out so I wouldn’t have to listen to London convince me to fight for a woman who didn’t want to work with me anymore.

I returned to my office and set the cloth bag stuffed with money on the desk. “I haven’t touched it since I put it in the safe. You can count it if you want.” I sat in the leather chair and crossed my legs.

She opened her purse and placed the money inside. “I know you’re good for it. So, you’ll let me know when my jewelry is back?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” She wasn’t just civil, but slightly cold.

“Where are you living?” It was strange not knowing about Ariel’s life. It’d only been a short time since she left me, but it felt like an eternity.

“I’m moving to London—with Cassandra.”

“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” Maybe she was taking this opportunity to settle down and have a life that wasn’t centered around work. “She seems like a nice woman.”

“She’s incredible. I’m looking forward to living with her.”

I suddenly felt a pain in my chest, missing her before she even walked out the door. “You know, you can always call me if you need anything. I’m more than happy to write you an incredible recommendation.”

Her coldness finally dropped, replaced by a soft expression I’d hardly ever witnessed. “I know, Crewe. I appreciate that.”

I came around the desk and extended my arms to hug her. At our previous interaction when we were closing our partnership, it wasn’t the right time for a real goodbye. We got down to business, and she got her check and walked out the door. I was too angry to say how I really felt.

She smiled before she hugged me back, moving into my chest for a real embrace.

I held her for the first time since I met her. We were never affectionate, hardly giving each other a handshake. This was a big deal—for both of us. “Please invite me to your wedding.”

“Of course, Crewe.” She was the first one to pull away, that softness in her eyes. “Good luck with everything.”

“Good luck to you too.”

She smiled and finally turned around and walked out the door.

The second she couldn’t see my face, I let my smile fall. I let the pain enter my chest, the paramount loss crippling me. Most of the people I was close to had passed away. There were a few people I considered family, like Finley. He’d been in my life for a long time. I saw Ariel in that same regard, and watching her walk away was more difficult than I expected it to be.

I tried to swallow the pain and pretend I didn’t care.

But I did care.

I hoped it would get easier in time, but I suspected it never would.

I’d just have to make my peace with it.

Work wasn’t enough to block out my thoughts. But I did manage to cut down on the scotch since London would smell it on my breath the second I walked through the door. I was in the mood to be alone, but I knew I couldn’t push her away—not like I did the other night.

She was finally back in my life, and I couldn’t take her for granted again. When I was with her, the pain didn’t seem so bad. At least I had someone to carry the burden with me rather than suffering alone.

It was a cold evening and the sun was gone, but I asked Dunbar to get the fire pit going so I could sit outside and watch the flames with a cup of hot tea.

Yes, I was drinking tea now. Tasted like shit.

I instructed Dimitri to fetch London for me—and to tell her to dress warmly.

She came out to the courtyard fifteen minutes later in jeans and a thick snow jacket. She took the seat beside me on the couch and pulled a blanket over both of us. “The fire looks nice.” Her tone suggested she recognized I was in a particularly bad mood. She treaded carefully, talking about things that had no real meaning.

“It does.”

“Are we gonna make some s’mores?”

“Some what?” I asked.

“S’mores,” she repeated. “You know, you roast the marshmallows over the fire