Chapter 33: Ophelia

Chapter 33: Ophelia

Saved by the bell.

Or at least the ringing of his cell phone.

While I love the often-used description in romance novels about wanting to climb the hero like a tree, I didn’t expect to actually do it.

But I did.

I’m surprised he didn’t toss me across the room.

I don’t know what I’m thinking, other than I’m not. Typical Ophelia.

This isn’t just book research, though I’ve got a great idea for a scene that involves a kitchen counter.

I wave at Xavier and point to the door, widely gesticulating that I’m heading out. He nods curtly, obviously irate at my ridiculous behavior. I’m really going to have to watch myself around him, otherwise the next time I have a little too much to drink, I’ll be crawling into his bed, demanding my wifely rights.

That would not be good.

The moment I get back to my apartment, I pull out my laptop and start writing. Tonight, my couple is getting a love scene involving christening every room of their new place, undeterred by the pressures of their outside lives, not wanting to leave their cozy love den.

I wish.

It’s after eleven and Xavier still isn’t back. He’s got to be home soon. To kill time, I go back and read through what I’ve written so far. I love every single word.

People have to read this. They’re going to love this book.

Now, a normal person would finish writing the book and then edit it, and then send it out to agents. I think it’s been long since established that I, Ophelia Finnegan—er, Henry—do not follow conventions like that.

Oh no, I proceed to upload the first three chapters in series on Wattpad under the author name Lia Finn. I read it. I read it again.

This is really good.

I text Marley so she can read it, but I know she’s sleeping.

I need someone to read it right now, so they can tell me what they think. I go back to Wattpad. No views yet.

The need for someone else to read my story makes my skin itch. There’s only one way I know to solve this problem. Naturally, I open ClikClak.

So I did a thing. I’ve been working on a story for a while, and suddenly my inspiration hit me just right, if you know what I mean. Head on over to Wattpad to find the first three chapters of my upcoming book! Love you all! Kisses and hugs!

I try to go to sleep, but excitement over my abrupt decision doesn’t allow rest to come. As I glance at the clock and realize it’s almost one a.m., worry starts to win over.

Xavier still isn’t back.

Oh God, he’s probably so embarrassed about what happened earlier. I don’t think I could have been more desperate if I tried. And what was all that talk about sexy time? Frankly, no one else I’d ever be able to bring home would hold a candle to Xavier Henry.

Not that he’d ever look in my direction. Not for real.

I need to let him know that I know this is strictly business. I won’t touch him again unless we have to for appearance’s sake. No more touching when it’s just the two of us.

Though he is the one who grabbed my hands. Repeatedly. I’ll have to inform him of the no-touching rule. Yes, a list of rules is what we will need in our new place. It’s the only way I’m going to keep a cool head around him. I open a document on my computer and start writing the list. Number one: no touching.

And he probably shouldn’t walk around without his shirt on either. I mean, a girl’s only got so much willpower, and his abs do look quite lickable. That’s number two: no lickable abs on display.

Maybe I wouldn’t find him so desirable if he wasn’t so sweet and thoughtful. The bridal bouquet and the ring, then the loft? He’s too considerate. All that kindness makes me want to bear his children. Number three: no generous gestures that make my uterus dance.

The next rule is not fair to Xavier, but it’s the only way I’ll make it through the duration of our sham marriage. Number four: no overnight guests. As much as I claimed to be okay with it, I’m totally not. I can’t say he can’t—you know—with someone else. He just can’t bring her back to our place.

The last rule is for me and me alone. I should leave it off the list because it feels foolish to even type the words. Yet I know if I don’t have this list to abide by, I will break this rule every chance I get. Number five: no falling in love.

Yeah, Xavier won’t need that at all, but I’m a little afraid I’m already in violation of that one. It’s probably because of rules one through three that Xavier so flagrantly disregards. I mean, he doesn’t know about them yet, so it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose.

It’s just him.

I glance at the clock. It’s now closing in on two a.m. I call him, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. I text him asking him to let me know he’s okay.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

One look at his face when he finally trudges through the door a little while later confirms it. He looks unkempt and exhausted. His blue eyes are rimmed with red, and his hair is standing on end as if he’s been pulling on it.

I want to run to him and pull him into my arms, but I remember rule number one. "What happened?"

Xavier sinks down on the couch, his face buried in his hands. He shakes his head back and forth. Everything about his posture reads defeat.

"Xavier, you can tell me. Are you okay?"

He shakes his head, still not looking at me. "It’s bad. Very, very bad. I’m sorry."

My skin prickles. "How bad?"

Finally, he turns to look at me, his elbows still resting on his knees. "Quite bad."

"Xavier, who called?"

He shakes his head and buries his face again. "I … I can’t …"

"You can’t tell me like you can’t-can’t or you don’t want to say?"

"It’s a right disaster. A bloody fucking disaster. Tony’s gone."

I sit up straight. Oh no. "Like dead?"

Xavier sits up, one side of his mouth pulled up. "He’s going to wish he was when I get my hands on him. No, he’s gone, as in he doesn’t work for the firm anymore and actually hasn’t in several months. He ghosted all of his clients."

"But you’ve been talking to him, right?"

Xavier shrugs. "I was, until the last few weeks. He was texting and now he’s not responding at all."

I’m trying to make sense of this all in my head. "But what … why? I’m confused."

Xavier stands and begins pacing around my small living room. Sundance scurries to the kitchen, jumping up to perch on top of the fridge. He can sense that something’s horribly wrong.

Part of me wants to scurry and hide, but that isn’t what Xavier needs right now. I’m not sure what I’m going to do to comfort him. Tossing rule number one out the window, I gently put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his forearm. "Listen, it’s late. You’ve got to be exhaust—"

He shrugs me off. "Don’t suggest I try and get some rest. Sleeping will not make this better. It’s only going to, oh bugger." He looks at his watch. "I’ve got to make a call." He doesn’t bother to leave the room before whipping out his phone and dialing.

It’s two-thirty in the morning. Who’s he calling?

"Mum? Is Dad there? I need to speak with him. It’s quite urgent."

Xavier stands, phone pressed to his ear, his other hand over his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he curses under his breath. "Dad? Fuck, Dad, I’ve gone and mucked it all up again. But this time, I did it for good. It’s done. I’ve lost everything."

I don’t understand what he’s saying. I was there when he talked to the coach last night, and it was all good. So what if the agent left the agency? I’m sure that sort of thing happens all the time. Maybe Xavier can just go with another person at the firm. He’s probably just panicking and didn’t think about that.

"No, I’m not alone. Ophelia’s here with me."

There’s a pause.

"Ophelia. She’s the bird I married."

There’s another pause as Xavier pulls the phone away from his face and winces. Even across the room, I can hear the screaming that has eardrum-rupturing potential. Yikes.

He sighs and taps the screen. "Mum, Dad, you’re on speaker. Ophelia is right here."

Oh crap. We’re doing this. I didn’t even have time to think about what I’m going to say to Xavier’s parents. "Um, hi. I’m Ophelia."

Great. I’m not only boring, I’m restating the obvious.

"You’re married? When did you even meet?"

Before I can speak, Xavier tries to calm his mother down. It’s for the best because I don’t think telling her that I’ve only known him for a little over a month would go over well.

"Mum, settle down. I told you about Tony’s plan to have me get American citizenship. This is how I did it."

I hear a throat clear and then Xavier’s dad speaks. "I guess we didn’t figure this is how you’d get citizenship."

"Well, that wanker said it was the only way to fast track so I can get traded in the off-season."

"Seems drastic," Xavier’s mom mutters.

Um, I’m right here, lady.

I need to defend myself. "Yeah, well, it might be drastic, but it was Xavier’s last chance. It’s all good. We get along fine, and we just signed a lease on our new apartment. It’s right by the stadium, and it’s really pretty, and—"

I’m interrupted by Xavier putting a finger over my lips. It’s one hundred percent a shushing gesture, but from the instant he makes contact, all I want to do is to take his finger into my mouth.

This is neither the time nor the place, Ophelia.

I mouth "number one" which makes Xavier pull his hand back. He scrunches up his brows, trying to decipher what I was saying. I take a step back, trying to put distance between us.

"The issue is that Tony’s gone. Like literally gone. He hasn’t been to work in weeks, and the firm can’t reach him."

"Can someone else handle your contract negotiation? You’re a client of the firm, not just of Tony’s."

Xavier’s mom and I are on the same wavelength.

Xavier raises his gaze to meet mine, his phone held out in between us. "This is where it’s all buggered up. Tony had conversations with Bjorn and Miller about the trade, but they were phone calls. There’s nothing in writing. Nothing in email. There’s nothing with the Terrors that we know of either. There are no contracts, and certainly nothing’s finalized."

My mouth goes dry.

"I don’t know that he ever talked to Camacho or Masters about the trade at all. They may not agree to it. There’s certainly no indication that they’re inclined to even consider it. Especially considering word on the street is that Camacho is sucking up to Edmund Jones. He definitely won’t agree to a trade, if only to punish me further."

After a few beats of silence, Xavier’s dad says, "Well, it must be the middle of the night there. Nothing you can do at this moment, other than get some rest so you can make a plan in the morning. Someone else must be able to straighten this muck out."

After Xavier disconnects, it’s obvious there’s no amount of planning that will let us sleep well tonight.