Richard's POV
In just three minutes, she rushes out, dashing towards the exit.
With nerves fluttering in my stomach, I run after her. I knew she was going to do this. I knew she was uncomfortable with all the questions and conclusions about her being my ex-wife.
I know she is a shy person. Timid and soft.
She can't take this. I know this, which is why I had to stay close to find out what she had decided.
I wanted to suggest taking her back home to see if she was okay with it. I am also uncomfortable having to explain to everyone that she isn't Arabel.
Telling them she is will cause a rancour, and I am not in to explain anything to any of them.
"Bella!" I shout out her name as she stops near a red car, which I assume is for that guy, until she fishes out a car key and opens the door.
I rush forward to stop her.
“What happened?” I question with confusion, even though I know what might be wrong.
“Nothing, I just need to go home.” She almost rushes into the car, but I am quick to stop her.
“Hey, calm down, ok? Is it Daisy? Did something happen?”
“No, I just need to go, please,” she insists, fear and a mixture of anger all over her expression.
“Ok. Let me take you home, please," I plead, seeing how distraught she is. “Let me, please. You are not in the right frame of mind to drive.”
She stops trying to get into the car and takes a deep breath. After a moment of silence between us, she looks more calm and stares up to finally meet my eyes.
"It's your mother's birthday. You should be by her side…”
“I know, but I need to take you home first. If I don't, I'll be dead with worry."
“Richard!”
“Bella, please.”
More silence ensues.
When she isn't saying anything but staring at me, I grab the car keys from her, guiding her to the passenger's seat and helping her in before rushing back to the driver's seat and slouching in to start the car.
She lays her head on the seat with her eyes closed as I drive out of the garage, onto the street leading to my apartment, where we both stay.
Since she moved in, we haven't crossed paths with each other. Sometimes, I wonder if she spends the night there, because there are no traces of her being my neighbour.
I haven't been able to summon up enough courage to visit either. When she wasn't staying so close to me, I always found a reason to see her, but now I don't know what excuse to give.
Daisy hasn't given me a call in days, either. I wonder if someone has taken away her phone.
When we are close to home, she finally opens her eyes and mutters softly. “Thank you.”
I don't say anything. Instead, I keep stealing glances at her, wondering what must be going through her mind.
Finally, I decided to start a conversation.
With a light chuckle, I mutter. “I’m sure you were uncomfortable with the mention of you looking just like my ex-wife.”
“Ex-wife?”
“Yes. My ex-wife, Arabel Cooper, You look just like her. I thought I mentioned that already.”
“No.”
More silence.
The air is thick with tension. When my mother invited her, I thought it was a great opportunity to talk to her. I should have known others were going to see her, and that would have been a total disaster.
“You don’t have to drop me,” she mentions, breaking the heavy moment of silence. “I need to pick Daisy up.”
“I can take you there,” I suggest, halting the car right in front of the apartment, instead of driving in. “Where is she?”
“At a friend's. Don't worry. I can take it from here,” she says, stepping down from the car and coming to the driver's seat. I open the door, knowing full well that I can't convince her at this point.
Daisy must be at Alex's. She won't let me take her there.
I see the way he always clenches her jaws and fists in anger whenever he sees us together.
“Are you sure you will be fine?” I cage her in between the tiny spaces, watching her beautiful face and shifting my gaze to the neckline of her beautiful, dazzling gown.
She looks ravishing tonight.
Left to me, I don't mind missing Mom's birthday and spending time with her. I want to take in all of her beautiful features, spend some time with her, and converse.
“Sure.” She flashes me a quick smile.
“Are you okay now?” I ask again, hoping to spend more time with her. “Are you calm now?”
“Yes, I am. I should go before she falls asleep,” she tells me before slouching into the seat.
I find myself tempted to ask if I can accompany her. But I refrain from asking. I need to respect myself and give her the space she deserves.
A ring interrupts my thoughts.
I pull out my phone to see a strange number flashing across my screen. Thinking it must be Mother, probably using one of her friend's phone to call me, I don't answer as Arabel kick-starts the car and I watch in pure admiration at how she handles the wheel.
As a matter of fact, the woman before me is no longer the same woman I got married to seven years ago.
This woman is accomplished. Determined. Independent. And fiery.
Unlike the submissive housewife I maltreated just because she was forced on me.
Quilt seeps at me as I continue to stare at her face which is expressionless. She isn't even sparing me a glance and it hurts.
“Take care.”
“Tell Mom I'm so sorry. I had to leave.”
The way she called my mother “mom” is so natural and familiar. If I wasn't convinced earlier that she was Arabel, now I am damn sure.
That was what she had always called her.
Mom.
“I will,” I assure her as I wave at her, watching in admiration as she drives off.
Just then, the phone rings again, and I pick up at the first ring.
“Hello…”
“Richard,” the voice speaks up, shocking the living hell out of me as shock submerges through me thoroughly.
Eve Rogers.