DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE Chapter Heart 17
Chapter 17 [Atlas]
"Atlas?" Sydney is staring at me, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. "Did you hear what I just said?"
I take a moment to readjust my thoughts. I had been thinking about this morning again, and the look on Cordelia's face right before she signed those papers. "I'm sorry, I have a lot on my mind."
She smiles brightly, instantly forgiving me. "Of course. I was just trying to invite you over to my family's LA home this weekend. My parents will be flying back home soon, and they wanted to have an "American- style barbeque" before heading back to Toronto." She then pauses, taking a moment to survey my outfit before saying. "Do you have cowboy boots and a hat?"
"Why?" I wonder where this is going. Surely her parents don't think that all Americans eat barbeque while wearing cowboy attire.
"Oh, it's just that it's a costume party. The theme is Wild Wild West. I thought I'd go as a...Saloon Girl," she blushes. "I was hoping you'd come with me and be the sheriff or maybe the barkeep."
I could think of a dozen things I'd rather do than go to a costume party on my weekend, but for the sake of being polite, I simply answer. "I'll think about it."
Sydney clapped her hands together, treating my response as if I had said yes instead. "Oh good, I'll tell Daddy. He'll be so happy! You know he really likes you. He keeps saying you're like the 'son he never had."
Just as I am about to clarify my intentions, my phone starts to buzz. It's Meghan Greyson, Cordelia's mother, most likely to complain about the divorce. I let it go to voicemail.
"So about the party..." Sydney starts up again.
My phone beeps again. I look down and see that Mrs, Greyson has just sent me a message. "CALL NOW! CORDELIA IN HOSPITAL" it reads in all caps.
All the air goes rushing from my lungs and the room goes impossibly still.
Not again. Dear gods not again. I can't lose another one.
"Excuse me," I point to my phone, exchanging one awkward conversation for another. "I need to make an important phone call."
Stepping outside I inhale the early autumn breeze and place the phone to my ear. Meghan answers almost immediately. "Oh good, Atlas."
"I got your message, is everything..."
"The situation is very serious. Please hurry. I know she'll feel better if she sees you. I can tell her heart is broken."
"I'm sure she doesn't want to have anything to do with me, I..."
You are wrong, Atlas," she interrupts me, weeping. "You are important to her, to all of us. You are exactly the person she needs to see."
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We hang up and I find myself lost in a web of emotions, Cordelia and I have always had a strange, strained relationship, but the last few weeks have been worse than usual between us.
What happened to make Cordelia's mother so worried? Is she sick? Injured? Or is it something far worse, something darker? Did ending our marriage and losing the company fortune drive her into depression or madness? She was so sad that night when I found her drunk and alone. So angry when she came into that hotel room. Was she calling out for help then? Could I have missed the signs that she needed more from me than I was giving? She's so young. Maybe I should have paid more attention to her and offered her a chance to grow with the company. She's never had to take care of herself and she has never learned how to be alone.
Maybe if I mentored her the way I'm mentoring Sydney she could have grown up to be more self-reliant, a better companion, and a better wife.
We just signed the papers this morning, but maybe it isn't too late.
I drop Sydney off at the office and from there, I rush home. I don't want to make Cordelia wait for too long but I need to make a quick stop at home to grab something from the family safe-
an emerald hair comb that had belonged to my Grandmother Esther, it will look amazing next to her loose red curls. With a bouquet of freshly cut roses from our garden and a delicately wrapped box, I enter the hospital lobby and head straight for the reception desk. "Excuse me," the crisply dressed woman looks up at me over her glasses. "I'm looking for my wife, Cordelia Steele."
The receptionist takes a moment to search through her computer. "I'm sorry, sir, we don't have a Cordelia Steele in our system. Could it possibly be under a different name?"
I pause, bothered by the idea that she might have already cast aside my name. Swallowing down my disappointment I state. "Greyson, Cordelia Greyson."
Her hands move rapidly across the keys. It doesn't take her long to determine that no one matching her name or description has checked in today.
"Where is Cordelia?" I text my ex-mother-in-law. "The receptionist says she never checked in?"
A loud, high laugh makes me turn my head.
recognize that laugh. I haven't heard it in a long time, but I'd know my wife anywhere.
Closing my phone I follow the sound to a small cafe on the other side of the lobby. As I come closer, I see her sitting across from a tall, tanned man who pulls up a chair and gathers her into his arms.
She
goes into his arms willingly, allowing him to hold her. As I watch them rock back and forth, I wonder how long she has known him. They must be close for her to let him wrap his arms around her in such an intimate way.
I feel a stab of pain. I had been holding the roses so tightly that the few remaining thorns dug themselves Into my hands. I throw them into a nearby waste bin.
This was all a trick. A desperate attempt by Greyson Mills to save their company by setting me up with
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Chapter 17
their daughter. Again.
Only this time I'm not falling for it. Clearly, Cordelia is neither sick nor hurt in any way. She seems to be doing just fine. I was foolish to believe she cared so much about our marriage that losing it would push her over the edge into grief. It has only been a few hours since we dissolved our marriage and she has already fooled someone else into loving her.
My thoughts flitter to Sydney and her father and the hints they have been giving me about building a deeper relationship.
Maybe that's what I need. A fresh start with someone new.
Putting my phone in hands-free mode, I call Sydney as drive home.
VictoryAnne Vice Author
Poor Atlas! He has the wrong idea! He tried so hard too...
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