Chapter 162: ~ 162
Chapter 162
~ Annie ~
"Did Johnson show you my portfolio for the café mural project?" I asked, phone pressed to my ear as I balanced my laptop on the bed beside me.
"Yes, he did," Candice replied from Brooklyn. "I liked the coffee mural concept—it has real character. But I only saw it briefly. Can you send it directly to me?"
Candice owned a charming little café, and since returning to New York, I had thrown myself into freelance work. It was my way of reclaiming control, of focusing on my art and pushing thoughts of Clinton to the back of my mind.
"No worries, Candice. I’ll send it right now. There are five pieces plus a quick mock-up of your front wall."
I tapped send on my laptop. "Done. It should be in your inbox."
"I’ll check it after this call and get back to you soon," she promised.
"Thank you, Candice. I’ll be waiting for your feedback."
The call ended, and I dove back into my work, fingers flying across the keyboard as I refined a few details. A few minutes later, my phone chimed with a notification. Curious, I picked it up.
Clinton’s birthday is in a few days.
The reminder hit me harder than expected. I had saved the date years ago, and every year it popped up like clockwork. I would always call or plan something special. But this year? After everything that had happened, I wasn’t sure I could keep up the tradition. The weight of it sat heavy in my chest—the years of traditions, the inside jokes, the unspoken understanding between us that had fractured somewhere along the way. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, unable to focus on the work in front of me. All I could think about was what his birthday would look like without me in it. Would he even want me to call? Or would my voice on the line be nothing but a reminder of everything that had gone wrong?
I set the phone face-down and sighed, the weight of unresolved feelings pressing on my chest.
After working a little longer, my mind kept drifting back to Clinton. Since that day he left a voicemail apologizing, I hadn’t heard from him again. The silence stung more than I wanted to admit. I needed fresh air.
I decided to take a stroll around the estate grounds to clear my head. My mother and Cleo had gone into the city for coffee and hair appointments—it was their day off. They had invited me along, but I wasn’t in the mood. Too much weighed on my plate.
Uncle Dorian was rarely home during the day, so the mansion felt unusually quiet, though the other staff moved about their duties in the distance. I slipped on comfortable shoes and stepped outside, the warm afternoon sun kissing my skin as I wandered the manicured lawns and winding paths. The gardens were in full bloom, colors vibrant and alive—a stark contrast to the grey emptiness I felt inside. I found myself walking without direction, letting my feet carry me wherever they wanted to go. The rustling of leaves and distant birdsong usually soothed me, but today even nature couldn’t quiet the noise in my head.
To distract myself, I dialed Ayanna. She picked up on the second ring.
"Hey, Annie," she answered, her voice sounding tired and raspy.
"Woah, why do you sound like that?" I asked, slowing my steps.
"Wedding preparations," she groaned. "Non-stop."
"You need to book a spa day to restore yourself because your voice is blech right now," I teased.
"I’ll be fine... after the wedding," she said with a weak laugh.
"Does Ethan know your voice is suffering?"
"Yes. He made me ginger tea this morning and even rubbed my feet."
"Aww, how gentlemanly of him," I cooed.
"Every single day, I realize how lucky I am to have him," Ayanna said softly.
"I know. You two are adorable."
"How’s Mom?" she asked.
"She’s good. She went into the city for coffee with Cleo."
"Cleo? Who’s she?"
"Oh, she’s the new house help Mom hired for Uncle Dorian."
"That’s nice," Ayanna replied.
"Yeah." I paused, then grinned.
"Oh, it’s a good thing you called. I’ve finally decided on the wedding date."
"When? Tell me—I’m curious now!" I said impatiently.
"The sixteenth of next month. What do you think?"
"Wow, that’s perfect, Ayanna! Finally, we have an actual date," I grinned, excitement bubbling up.
"Yeah, it wasn’t easy, but thank God I settled on one."
"That’s great, but please don’t change your mind again," I warned playfully.
"I won’t, don’t worry. That means you and Mom need to fly to Illinois on time. I’ll send the color samples for the dress code and—"
"I know all that," I sighed dramatically.
"Wait! I wasn’t finished," Ayanna laughed. "I wanted to ask if Clinton and Uncle Dorian are coming. It’s important that they’re there."
"Oh..." My stomach twisted. The mention of his name caught me off-guard, even though I’d been thinking about him all afternoon. My grip tightened on the phone.
"Well, I’m not sure about Clinton, but I’ll ask Uncle Dorian for you."
"Perfect. Ethan is covering your transport fare, so everything is falling into place."
"That’s amazing to hear," I said, forcing a smile into my voice.
"Yeah...oh! Isn’t Clinton’s birthday coming up? It’s on the ninth, right?"
Today was the fifth. His birthday was only a few days away. The universe really had a sense of timing.
"Yes, it is," I replied quietly.
"Well, since you’re in New York now, you could finally throw him the birthday party you’ve always wanted to plan since you were kids," Ayanna suggested brightly.
"I don’t know yet, Ayanna," I sighed.
"Why not?"
Maybe it’s time to tell her what happened.
"It’s about Clint," I began.
"Okay, I’m all ears. Talk to me, Annie."
"He—"
I stopped mid-sentence as the estate gate swung open. Clinton’s sleek car rolled smoothly up the driveway. He parked, stepped out, and scanned the grounds until his eyes landed directly on me. My breath caught in my throat. Of all the moments, of all the times for him to show up—as if thinking about him so intensely had summoned him into existence.
He started walking toward me with purposeful strides.
"Hey, Annie-bell," he said when he was close enough, his voice gentle but serious. "Can we talk?"
My phone was still pressed to my ear. On the other end, Ayanna’s voice broke through the sudden tension.
"Hello? Annie? Are you still there?"
I could only stare at Clinton, who stared right back at me, waiting.
