The Seat They Never Saved And The Offer I Finally Took Chapter 02

The Seat They Never Saved And The Offer I Finally Took Chapter 02

Rapid beeps from the keypad lock woke me the next morning.

After a few beeps, the front door swung open.

Ellie came straight inside in muddy sneakers without bothering to wipe her feet.

“Claire Bennett, were you in a coma? I messaged you last night. Why didn’t you answer?”

She went straight to the bedroom and pushed the door open.

I sat on the edge of the bed, taking in her self-righteous expression.

“My phone was on silent. What do you need?”

Ellie gave a contemptuous little snort.

“Chloe got chilled last night. Now she has a headache and can’t sleep.”

She went straight to my desk and opened a drawer, knowing exactly where to look.

“Nathan says you have a music box that helps people relax. Chloe can fall asleep listening to it. I’m taking it to her.”

Nathan had brought the limited-edition music box back from a business trip to Switzerland for my birthday the previous year.

I’d been thrilled with it and treasured it for a long time, rarely taking it out.

Ellie pulled out the finely made wooden box and handled it as if it were nothing.

I watched what she was doing.

“That was my birthday present.”

Ellie paused, then rolled her eyes.

“Claire Bennett, do you have to be so stingy? You know Chloe isn’t well.”

She shoved the music box into her bag, her voice impatient.

“Besides, Nathan said I could. We’re all friends. What’s the problem with borrowing it?”

Once, I would’ve grabbed for it. Being pushed aside so blatantly would’ve left me sobbing.

I would’ve demanded to know why Nathan was using my gift to comfort another woman.

Today, I watched the box disappear into her bag and felt an unexpected calm.

As if someone were clearing away trash that wasn’t even mine.

“Take it.”

I got up and went to the closet to pick out clothes.

Ellie clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. She looked surprised.

She curled her lip. “Good. At least you’re being sensible.” Then she turned and left, slamming the door.

The room fell quiet again.

I washed up, put on a sharp suit, and went to the real estate office.

Two weeks earlier, Nathan and I had picked out a three-bedroom home through the agency.

We’d put down a $28,000 earnest money deposit. It was supposed to be our home after the wedding.

The agent handling the sale came over with a warm greeting as I entered the office.

“Ms. Bennett, you’re just in time. The seller agreed to lower the price by $7,000. You can sign whenever you’re ready.”

I sat on the sofa, took out the purchase paperwork, and placed it on the table.

The agent’s smile faltered.

“Ms. Bennett, what’s this about?”

“Please arrange to have my deposit returned. I’m not buying the house.”

The agent looked at me, at a loss.

“Is it still the price? Mr. Reed called a few days ago to ask about renovation permits. Why the sudden change?”

Nathan had asked about them.

Chloe had said the house got wonderful light. If we turned one room into her personal art studio, she could visit all the time.

Nathan had loved the idea. He’d even praised Chloe’s artistic taste.

I offered the agent no further explanation.

I just met his eyes calmly.

“We broke up. I don’t need the house anymore. If there’s a penalty for backing out, fine. Just get the rest of the money back to me as soon as possible.”

It was noon by the time I’d signed the cancellation and refund agreement and walked out of the office.

The sunlight hurt my eyes. I opened my phone to a new Facebook notification.

Mason had posted ten minutes earlier.

A photo of the four of them at an upscale seafood restaurant.

Maine lobster and king crab covered the table. Chloe sat in the middle with a soft, delicate smile.

Nathan was carefully picking the meat out of crab legs for her.

Ellie formed a heart with her hands for the camera.

The caption read, “A big meal to cure Chloe’s low blood sugar.”

I opened the photo and zoomed in.

In the bottom right corner sat the music box they’d taken from me.

Someone had carelessly left it beside a greasy napkin. It looked painfully out of place.

Nathan had commented underneath, “Eat up. You’re way too thin.”

Nobody remembered I was allergic to seafood.

Nobody remembered I’d spent the entire night at the airport hungry, too.

I looked for a few seconds, then swiped the screen and tapped Like.

Then I turned off the screen and hailed a cab.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked.

“My office. To take care of my exit paperwork,” I said softly, looking out the window.