Chapter 15 - The Familiar Distance

Arabella made it through the rest of the afternoon without seeing Adrian again, which should have been a relief.

Instead, she caught herself glancing toward the lobby whenever footsteps passed her office. It was irritating. Adrian Knight had offered her a contact, a few sensible cautions, and a ride she had refused. None of that justified the amount of space he occupied in her thoughts.

Before she could decide what to do with the rest of her evening, her phone rang.

Sebastian’s name appeared on the screen.

“Were you planning to avoid me all evening?” he asked when she answered.

“I wasn’t aware my schedule required your approval.”

“It doesn’t. But I was hoping to see you.”

His voice was warm, familiar, almost effortlessly reassuring. Arabella had spent years believing that knowing Sebastian meant understanding him. Lately, she was beginning to wonder whether familiarity had simply made it easier to overlook the things she did not understand.

“I’m still at the office,” she said.

“Then let me take you to dinner. Somewhere quiet. No business talk, no wedding plans, no difficult questions.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a list of things you don’t want me to mention.”

He laughed softly. “Or a list of things I’d like us to have a break from.”

Arabella looked through the glass wall of her office at the employees still working beyond it. She could use a break. She could also use an honest conversation, though she doubted Sebastian would describe it that way.

“Dinner,” she agreed. “But I’m not promising to avoid difficult questions.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

They chose a restaurant near the city centre, one they had visited often enough that the staff knew them. Sebastian arrived before her and stood when she approached the table. He looked as polished as ever, his dark suit fitting perfectly, his smile carrying the same easy confidence that had once made her feel certain about their future.

He kissed her cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You sound as if you’re accepting a delivery.”

“Would you prefer I say you look handsome?”

“I’d prefer you to mean it.”

She almost smiled. “You do look handsome, Sebastian.”

“There. I knew the evening could improve.”

They ordered and spoke briefly about a mutual friend’s engagement and a charity event Arabella had been expected to attend. Sebastian remembered the small details he always had: how she liked her food, which subjects bored her, and when she was pretending not to be tired.

That was what made the uncertainty so difficult. He was not a stranger behaving strangely. He was the man who knew her well enough to make a lie sound like comfort.

When the waiter left, Arabella set down her glass.

“I want to ask you something about the waterfront project.”

Sebastian’s expression barely changed, but his fingers paused against the stem of his glass.

“Of course.”

“Did you ever see any of the original account records? Not summaries or reports prepared later. The actual records.”

“Why are we back to this?”

“Because I’m trying to understand what happened.”

“And you think I have the answer?”

“I think you may know more than you’ve told me.”

He leaned back slightly. “Arabella, I’ve already told you what I know. Your father mentioned the company was under pressure. I knew there had been an old dispute between the families. That’s all.”

“You also said you didn’t remember seeing the original records.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you not remember, or do you not want to tell me?”

For the first time that evening, his smile disappeared completely.

“That isn’t fair.”

“Maybe not. But neither is asking me to trust you while making me feel unreasonable for asking questions.”

He looked down at the table. The pause lasted only a moment, but Arabella felt it stretch between them.

“I don’t want this to become something that ruins us,” he said.

“Then help me understand why it should.”

He raised his eyes to hers. She could not tell whether the look was hurt, frustration, or genuine fear, and that troubled her more than anger would have.

“I care about you,” he said. “You know that.”

“I do know you care about me.” She kept her voice gentle. “What I don’t know is whether you’re telling me everything you can.”

He reached across the table, palm open. After a brief hesitation, she placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers with the tenderness she remembered, and for a second she wanted to let the question go. She wanted the old certainty back badly enough to pretend it had never been disturbed.

But she could not unknow what she knew now.

“Can you promise me,” she asked, “that if you discover something connected to the project, you’ll tell me?”

Sebastian held her gaze. “Yes.”

The answer came quickly. Too quickly, perhaps—but she could not prove that, either.

She nodded and let him keep holding her hand. They finished dinner without returning to the subject. Sebastian made her laugh once, then again, and when he walked her to her car, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with familiar affection.

“I miss us,” he said quietly.

Arabella looked at him. “So do I.”

It was the truth. It simply wasn’t the whole truth.

On the drive home, she thought about Sebastian’s easy smile, Adrian’s careful restraint, and the way both men seemed to know more about the waterfront project than they were willing to say. One offered her the comfort of a history they shared. The other challenged her to question the history she had accepted.

Neither had earned her trust merely by making her feel something.

And yet, for the first time, Arabella understood that choosing whom to believe might be harder than discovering what had happened.

Because the truth could change everything.

But so could the person she chose to trust before she found it.