Hopefully number three would make number four a moot point for a while, but it still felt good to have it down there. Because it might have taken her a while, but she was finally ready to admit that marriage wasn’t the be-all and end-all she’d always treated it as.
Yes, she still hoped to have that happy marriage and family life one day. But she was done putting off all the other life she could be living while she searched for it.
From now on, she was living her best life, on her own, on her terms.
And she didn’t need anyone else to make that happen for her.
Zoey smiled. It felt good to be in control for once.
As the first boarding call for her plane went out, she stood in the queue, her bag at her feet, and started another list on her phone.
Zoey’s Best Life List
Now she had hours in the air to think of fantastically fun things to add to it.
Things that definitely weren’t Sleep with Ash Carmichael again.
CHAPTER NINE
HIS TRIP TO paradise was most definitely over, Ash decided, as he stared at the pile of paperwork sitting on his desk a week later. He’d headed back to the London office via a few other properties he needed to check, fully expecting to be sent straight back out on location to check on one of Carmichael’s other existing or potential properties somewhere around the globe. But instead he’d returned to find expenses needing to be filed, reports to be typed up and his assistant absent without leave.
Plus, he was still thinking about Zoey.
She’d texted to tell him she’d arrived home safely, but that was all he’d heard from her since he’d put her on the boat to the mainland. No video call to check in, no funny emails about what she was up to, no new address details, not even a group chat inviting him out for drinks if he was in town this weekend.
Nothing.
It was making him anxious.
Maybe he’d call her tonight, if he wasn’t preparing to fly straight back out again, as normal. They could have dinner, like they’d talked about. That would be good. And hopefully not too awkward.
Sinking into his swivel chair, he thumbed idly through the stack in his in-tray and considered how the paperless office had never truly evolved. He’d dealt with all his emails while he was away, like always, but somehow that never quite covered everything that came up in a business day.
And there were no trips scheduled in his calendar. No flights booked or e-tickets waiting for him.
For the first time in two years, since he’d returned to work after Grace’s death, he had nowhere to go.
He couldn’t help but think this was some sort of a hint. And probably a sign he should go and talk to his father.
Or Zoey.
But no, his father first.
Wandering past his assistant’s empty desk, he moved down the corridor, past wide windows showcasing the London skyline, towards the biggest office in the building. The office belonging to Arthur Carmichael, CEO of Carmichael Luxury Travel and very much still in situ as head of the company even at nearly seventy.
‘Is he in?’ Ash asked Moira, his dad’s long-suffering assistant.
She nodded sagely, as if she knew something Ash didn’t. Which she probably did.
Many things, actually. It was a standing joke that Moira knew the jobs of everyone else in the company better than they did.
‘He’s waiting for you,’ she said with a sympathetic smile.
Oh. That didn’t sound good.
Ash gave a perfunctory knock on the office door, then stuck his head around it. ‘Dad?’
‘Ash! Come in, son.’ His father seemed in a reasonably jolly mood at least, Ash observed as he carefully shut the door behind him. He was still apprehensive as he took a seat, however.
It definitely felt as if he was missing something here.
‘What can I do for you?’ Arthur settled back into his seat, folding his arms against his chest as he leaned back, studying his son across the large mahogany desk.
‘I was just checking in, really,’ Ash said. ‘Um, like I said in my email, the refurbishments on that one villa weren’t complete, but I can go back in a few more weeks when they are. And, uh, I don’t suppose you’ve seen my assistant, have you?’
It would help, Ash thought, if he could remember his assistant’s name. But, in his defence, he’d only met her a couple of times. He’d not exactly spent a lot of time in the office lately. And her email address only had her initials... R, he thought. Rachel? Rebecca?