Jackson was the last Person Orla would expect to see in a lone park on a chilly evening.
Looking deeply into his eyes in the lighted space at the park, something was off, something seemed off, but she couldn't wrap her head around what that was.
"Look who we have here," he rushed towards her, pulling Orla into an embrace. She let him hug her, but her response was delayed and unwilling.
"Are you stalking me? And didn't you go back to where you came from?" She asked, eyes still widened in shock. He needed to start spitting out his truth.
Why would she see him all alone that evening when he was supposed to be gone by now?
"I am a Doctor, you know?"
"And What big deal is that?"
"I don't have the luxury of time to stalk people. My hands are always filled with work. Now, I should ask you what you are doing here all alone, on a cold evening." Moving past her, he sat next to her on the bench and smiled, admiring how beautiful she had grown from the last time he had seen her.
He was so tempted to ask if she ran a test to know what was wrong with her that day she kept throwing up. But he pressed down the thought, he wanted to spend time with her and didn't want to ruin it.
"I came here to get some inspiration about nature. I need to construct the building plan for a park…" She paused, noting that Jackson would never know she was an Architect unless her sister mentioned it to him.
"Construct?" His eyebrows were questionably raised. "You draw?"
"Yes, I am an Architect. You would never have known, would you?"
"No." He rested his back on the wooden chair, a small smile dancing around his smooth face. "Impressive," he muttered.
Orla quickly scanned his chiselled jaw, his smooth eyebrows and his maroon eyes that held so many untold stories.
She moved her eyes away from him before he would notice her intense gaze.
"Oh well, now you know and you can hire me. I promise I will give you something beautiful. I can show you my designs if you want to see them."
She was about to pull out her phone from her pocket when Jackson held her hand down.
"I love your method of advertisement and believe me when I say that I will patronize you soon." Smiling heavily, he slowly let go of her trapped hand. "You look exceptionally beautiful today. I can't seem to get my eyes off you. What did you do to me?"
Feeling uneasy, she moved an inch away from him. A frown slammed his face when he noticed what she did. He wasn't a monster, why would she shift away from him?
"I am married." His words didn't sit well with her and she felt the need to scold him.
He shouldn't admire her with those eyes, she didn't want him to admire her with those eyes. Only Callan's eyes were meant to sweep up and down her body, no other man but him.
"Old news, do you have something different?" He brushed off her words, unbothered.
"It's old but it's the truth. I am married."
"So what brings this talk, Mrs Orla Barlowe?” She tilted her head in surprise and he smiled. “Don’t be surprised I know your husband’s name too?" Turning around to take a full glance at her, he yanked out a pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind if I do this?"
Placing a stick between his fingers, he waited for Orla's permission before he lit the cigarette.
"You smoke?" Her emotions were mixed.
"Yes, I do, but only on days like this. So may I?"
After Orla's approval, he smiled broadly. Lit up the cigarette and took a long drag, puffing the smoke into the sky.
He looked down at her again and she quickly stared away. She knew something was off since she saw him that evening.
Though she had only met him two times, she could feel a strong connection between them—the type that set the atmosphere around her serene yet surreal.
The type that made her feel she could trust him and she was safe around him, but at the same time, too toxic to be with him.
"What do you mean by days like this and why are you still here?" Her voice was gentle. “And how do you know I am married to a Barlowe.”
Heaving a sigh, he stared into space and shook his head. "I didn't plan to extend my stay here, but these old people need urgent medical care and Sophia hasn't complained about squatting me."
"Good, and that brings you to the second question.
"What's that?" He asked, confused.
"Really?" He must be joking, she thought. How could he forget her question in a matter of seconds? "You forgot the second question?"
"Yes, I did. You're too pretty and my brain is lost in your face. I can't even think right when I stare at you. Your husband is a lucky man, he has you best to himself. I'm envious." Grinning really hard, he saw that moment to give a response to her last question about how he knew her husband’s name. “Sophia told me you were married when I told her I liked you. She told me you married a Barlowe guy.”
“Oh.” Orla smiled. If only he knew what was happening in her marriage. "Right. She did. And what makes you think he's lucky to have me?"
"He's a blessed man, trust me."
"And what if he doesn't know my worth? What if it's not how you think of it?" She made sure she was careful enough not to spill anything about her marriage to him. "And you, what would you do if I was yours?" She closed the inch she had created before, staring right down into his face. "What would you do?" She repeated.