Page 67 of The Echo of Forever

There was nothing at home for me without her.

“Mr. Cannon, you just missed your brother,” the guard on duty said as I entered. “Also, someone left this for you. I was instructed to put it in your hands.”

He held out a black envelope, wrapped in a gold bow, for me to take. I stared at it briefly, then slipped it from his hands.

“Did thissomeoneleave a name?” I asked, frowning at the wax seal on the back in the shape of an F.

“Oh, yeah, she…” He tapped the visitor log. “…signed in here.”

My gaze lingered on the name his finger sat beside.

Forever Cannon?

The question mark made me feel a way, but now I understood why she didn’t want to see me.

Somebody had exposed more of our history, and she was confused by the version of her she’d forgotten.

“If you see Mrs. Cannon again, tell her she’s welcome to drop off her correspondence to me directly.”

He nodded slowly, and I started for the elevators, fingers brushing what they knew to be the Fairchild insignia.

The fuck did she have this for?

Instead of opening it, I dropped what was clearly an invitation on my desk and went to make a drink.

I contemplated calling her until the impulse was too hard to ignore.

“Did you get what I left for you?” she asked upon answering.

I hummed but feared speaking now that I had her on the phone. There was a lot of shit I wanted to say and get off my chest that would only make her run further from me.

How the fuck was I supposed to court the woman I already loved, who once loved me enough to accept my marriage proposal and elope?

This shit was more complicated than I thought it’d be.

“Have you looked at it?”

It took a minute for me to muster up my response.

“Not interested at the moment.”

She sighed, and I found myself doing the same without much thought.

“I’m sorry, Echo.”

Echo?

I downed the last of my whiskey and poured more, contemplating why hearing her use the nickname wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped.

“Who’d you talk to today?” I asked, lowering the automatic blinds on the way to my desk.

“Just another person who seems to know more about my love life than I do.”

Her attitude was evident, but unlike usual, I didn’t find it cute or funny.

“That mean you mad at me, my forever?”

All it represented was how far apart we were; how farshewas fromme.