People change …
Astoria checked the delicate golden watch on her wrist again. It was now two minutes till. He should be back anytime.
She arrived exactly seven minutes early for her meeting with Edward, a meeting that had been put off multiple times over the last few months. Something always seemed to arise at the last minute for one, or both of them. She was insistent this meeting happen sooner than later though. If she waited much longer, she talk herself right out of the conversation she needed to have with him. That this wasn’t the right time. That she was making the wrong decision.
The fact of the matter was that she was going through the motions at White Chapel, and had been for a long time.
When Edward asked her to manage the gallery five years prior she’d been intimidated and unsure she was suited to such a task. She never had expectations for herself beyond being a socialite, and someday a wife. Edward had somehow convinced her she was suited to the task, and much to her surprise, he’d been right. Astoria had found she loved managing the gallery. Loved learning something new, challenging herself, acquainting herself with the world of fine art. She’d loved organizing and putting on the FUSION festival the two years White Chapel had hosted it. Against seeming reason, it really had been a good fit.
But it just wasn’t anymore. There was nothing in particular Astoria could point to as the problem -- mostly because there wasn’t one. She liked the gallery and the people she worked with there. It was just that she was ... done. She wanted to take a break. Actually attend a fashion week. Visit with Romy and her family for more than a single afternoon every month, or actually see her brother at all. She wanted to think about something else besides work. Maybe even say yes to a dinner invitation with a gentleman caller. Perhaps try her hand at something new and different when it suited her.
Astoria wasn’t really sure what she wanted to do. She just didn’t want to be doing this anymore.
She checked her watch again. Two minutes past. He was late.
Diane let her into Edward’s office to wait for him to arrive from whatever meeting he had scheduled prior. It might have been proper and polite to sit herself in one of the chairs in front of the massive desk that dominated his office, but she’d opted for the large swivel chair that matched the desk. It dwarfed her, but she could keep her eye on the door -- and that’s exactly what she did as she counted the minutes (three past now), legs crossed and a dainty foot tapping the air in agitation.
When the door finally did open, a single dark brow rose at the man who stepped through. “You’re five minutes late.”
As much as Edward appreciated the view of a beautiful woman in his chair, he raised his own eyebrow at her choice of seating. Not that he truly minded since she was so beautiful, but it was expected that he show some kind of protest.
Edward had no confirmation with what this meeting was in regards to, but he had an inkling, and his inklings had made him a lot of money over the years. There was only one kind of sit-down meeting that Astoria would have insisted on, despite multiple reschedulings, and it was the kind of meeting that required scotch. As such, he opted to head to the bar rather than try to fight her for his chair.
“I was giving you a chance to change your mind,” he replied smoothly, uncorking a bottle. “Or solidify it. Either way, you should be grateful.”
Astoria ignored the pointed words and instead watched him, confusion tinting her features. He looked... harried, if she could be so bold as to ascribe such to him. It wasn’t that he was unkempt or rumpled, or that he looked as if he was stressed or outwardly tired. There was just an air of weariness hanging about him, as if for some reason he was tired inside.
She stood and her heels made a gentle tap against the floor as she approached him. A small hand was laid on his forearm to draw his attention away from his task and she spoke when he paused to look at her. “Are you alright?”
Edward’s brow furrowed and he studied the petite woman in front of him that he had come to consider a genuine friend, whatever that meant. Normally, he’d have a snarky response prepared--Aren’t I always?. Normally, he’d turn the attack back on her--How could I when you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say?. Normally, he’d turn on the famous Edward charm with a wink--I’m alright now that you’re here.
But, truth be told, normally, he wouldn’t have walked into the room without armoring himself with squared shoulders and perfected poker face. But this was Astoria. His discovery. His risk that paid off. His first real investment. His friend.
So instead, he turned back to his drink and made it a double. “I’m fine,” he answered, his voice leaving no room for questions. At this point, he wasn’t going to offend her by pretending to be something else--he certainly didn’t need her temper today, as cute as it was--but he wasn’t about to talk about feelings.
He poured her a drink as well and gave her no choice but to take it. “So what was so important that we meet?”
Astoria abruptly withdrew her hand from his arm at his first clipped words and then fumbled slightly to handle the tumbler pushed into them moments later; the sudden, unexpected wave of distress and hurt didn’t help her finer motor functions at all, nor did the spike in his agitation. It didn’t matter that he refused to acknowledge his edginess. Astoria could feel it, especially now that she was standing next to him. It pressed against her almost as if it was a physical thing.
This was not going how she had planned. Hell, this wasn’t going well by any standard. Usually their meetings were very light. Comfortable in their predictability. There were times when the things they touched upon were heavier, but this time there was a volatility weighing between them that hadn’t been there before.
Dark eyes fixated on the amber liquid sloshing in the glass as she tried to collect herself once more. It was proving difficult, however, as Edward’s tension was affecting her own composure. Her instincts told her to retreat -- and perhaps at one time she might have, but she wasn’t that girl anymore.
So she set the glass down and made herself look up at him again despite her baser instinct to run away. Made herself say what she’d come to say.
“I...” Slim fingers plucked at the short hem of her dress, an old habit. “I...” Gods, this was much harder than it should have been. “Edward, I need to stop standing still.”
It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, was so very vague, and she kept on, tried to clarify. “I love White Chapel. I love Euan and Meredith, and I love working with you. I just... I feel like I’m...” Her hands fluttered as she tried to find the right words. “I’ve done everything I can think to do for the gallery, and it runs fine whether I’m there or not anymore. Euan’s ready to take over, too, and I know it’s what he’s always wanted. He studied to do this, and has worked so hard...” She was rambling now, but Astoria couldn’t seem to make herself stop. It was almost as if she felt compelled, though she wasn’t sure what it was she was trying to say, which made her all the more anxious.
She lifted her eyes to meet his once more. “I just... need to keep moving. I don’t know, Edward,” she said, a soft, frustrated sigh escaping as she lowered her gaze again. “I don’t know what I want. What I have at White Chapel is familiar and comfortable, but I feel like I’m stuck, like if I’m not careful I’ll wake up ten years from now and be doing exactly what I’m doing right now, and realize that content and fulfilled are completely different things, but I’m too late to do anything about it. All I know is that to find whatever it is, whatever’s next for me, that I need to stop standing still and try and do something about it, even if I haven’t figured out what that is yet.”
Edward didn’t allow himself to respond at first. Instead, he downed what he had in his glass and poured himself another before guiding Astoria to the loveseat. There had been so many deals struck, moments had, laughs heard from this very seat between the two of them, but she wanted to change? Leave?
He stamped the familiar feelings of betrayal that came rushing to the surface. No. This situation was different. Astoria was not his family. She was not trying to hurt him deliberately. She was not trying to take anything away from him. She had no obligations to him. This was different, he told himself. But yet, here was another situation where someone close to him was leaving.
He started to speak, but stopped himself, polishing off his scotch instead. Wordlessly, he stood to refill his glass. Even with his back turned, he could feel Astoria’s big brown eyes on him--reading, analyzing, pausing.
He was torn. He wanted to accuse her of betraying him like his family and everyone else always did, but knew that she wasn’t trying to hurt him personally. He wanted to vent his frustrations at his loss, yet felt obligated to keep his stoic image. He wanted to fight for her to stay, but knew he should quietly let her go.
Fuck it. No he didn’t. He didn’t have to let her go. When did Edward Carmichael, V ever not fight for something he wanted? And if he wanted to keep Astoria, he would, never mind the reason why, or how.
With a plan in mind, he sat back on loveseat commanding the tension out of his shoulders. He held her questioning gaze for a moment before letting the corner of his lips turn up a bit to ease the tension in the room. “You need a change? Okay. We can make a change. Are you tired of me, work, or the gallery?” he challenged her.
He wasn’t fooling her. Astoria had seen something in his eyes the moment they landed on her when he walked in the door, and then he’d gone on to down two servings of scotch in a matter of minutes. He’d as much as snapped at her for asking after him. After she’d laid out for him what she was about he hesitated.
Dark eyes flicked from the tiny smirk of a smile hinting at the edges of his mouth, up to his gaze. His eyes didn’t match the easy expression he’d adopted; his regard was weighty with intent and focus on her.
She shifted slightly, crossed her legs at the ankles, forced her hands to her lap so she wouldn’t reach out again. He was projecting a cocktail of emotions now, all of them potent, and it pressed on her, ratcheting up her own anxiety at even speaking to him about this. Her concern for him only further affected her, but Edward had all but told her to leave off it. Frustration at her inability to address the elephant in the room further frayed at her nerves.
She shifted her gaze away from his as she forced her mind away from what they weren’t discussing to what they were.
“It’s not that I’m tired of anything,” she said finally, the weariness and frustration she felt at the moment leaking into her tone. “I like the gallery and the people I work with. It’s just that I don’t feel I’ve anything to offer White Chapel, nor do I think it has anything else to offer me. There is much growth to be had under new management, however. Euan, in particular,” she told him, eyes on an understated abstract painting she’d hand picked for his office several years ago now.
Speaking settled her some and she finally shifted her eyes back to his. “He was always more qualified than I with his knowledge and degrees, but now he has the experience as well. I’ve been grooming him for years, and he’s ready. I’ve done what I can and the gallery will not see further exponential growth with me. You’ve made your return on your investment in me, as it were,” she said, a tiny smile curling her lips. Over the years she’d picked up more business savvy than she’d ever thought possible. “Speaking as someone who wants to see you succeed and stick it to your family further by doing so, having Euan in my place at White Chapel is the best thing you could do for your company.
And as for my personal reasons...” she shrugged, a slight, frustrated lift of slim shoulders. “I don’t know, Edward. It’s not you.” She glanced at him. “I love be able to call on you with a ready excuse at hand.” A hint of a smile curled the edges of her mouth.
“But the gallery’s not growing anymore, and I’m not growing anymore. I’m too comfortable. In everything. I go to work early and come home late, and on most days I enjoy what I’m doing and enjoy the people I do it with. I have been content with that for a long time, but it’s not all I want for myself. I do want to do something I find fulfilling and challenging,” Astoria felt heat touch the high points of her cheeks as she approached the last of her thoughts, “but I want to share it with someone. I want to have children. Being married to my work and only seeing my father and you with any kind of regularity hasn’t been conducive to making that a possibility.”
Edward was her friend, but these were not things she’d candidly shared with him in the past. Astoria felt she owed him the whole truth behind her decision though.
Edward nodded as he attentively listened to her explanation, all the while, analyzing the situation, evaluating his options, and planning ahead, as he did best.
“Well, thank you for being honest with me,” he said as she finished. “Knowing you, you’ve put a lot of thought into this decision, so I won’t try to change your mind. I won’t use any of my business tricks on you. You can relax.” At her skeptical look, he shot her a crooked smile. “I just want to keep you happy, even if you say it’s making sure you’re not comfortable.”
“Now correct me if I’m wrong. What I’m hearing is that you love it, but you’re finished with the gallery. You want out. If you say Euan is ready to take your place, then he takes your place. Done.” Having decided on a course of direction, he felt slightly more at ease. Fighting for what he wanted was something he did everyday. Today he just happened to be fighting for his first investment. “But what I’m not hearing is that you aren’t necessarily done with work, or me. Am I right?”
She gave him a look. “I wouldn’t be ‘done’ with you regardless,” she said, the barest traces of fond exasperation tinting her tone, “and no, I’m not done with work. Theoretically.” Astoria was quick enough to pick up on the fact that he seemed intent on repurposing her, as it were, but she hadn’t a clue what he had in mind.
“Well, that’s a relief. I was dreading how much I would have to spend in gifts to win you back over,” he said lightly, answering her look with a wink.
Astoria had the strongest urge to poke her tongue out at him for his cheek, but forced her focus to his words instead of his expressions.
“So is there something or someone else who has caught your eye? Any particular work you want to do?” he asked searchingly. He was fishing to see exactly what Astoria was looking for so he could offer it to her on a silver platter. “Do you want to stay in the art world or venture into other business arenas? Are you looking to start something new or takeover?”
She gave him a long blink. Astoria supposed she should have been prepared to explain herself, but it hadn’t occurred to her Edward would be interested in her endeavors outside his company.
“... actually I haven’t much more than a vague sense of what I’d like to do next,” she admitted. Astoria felt a faint blush color her cheeks; the bit of her plans defining what she would do after leaving White Chapel had always been indistinct. It wasn’t as if she needed to work, so she hadn’t let herself stress about it much.
“I only know that I wanted to take some time off. Go to the French Riviera for a vacation. After that...” She splayed her fingers on her lap. “I want to go back to fashion, I think. Perhaps, menswear. Other than that?” She shrugged, a delicate lift of slim shoulders. “I’m not sure. It’s been five years since I spent a significant amount of time dabbling in such things, and last I did engage my old acquaintances regularly, I was in my early twenties and no more than a personal assistant. It could be strongly argued I haven’t got much more to offer now than I did then, but...”
Astoria lifted her eyes to meet Edward’s. “If you hadn’t guessed yet, my plans are very unclear and indefinite.” Her lips curved into a rueful smile. “And I’m quite sure your company doesn’t have any branches or subsidiaries in high fashion.”
“It amuses me that you still doubt me after all these years,” he reproached her lightly. “No, my company doesn’t. But it does own and manage real estate that such businesses are housed on. I also have more than a few friends in that arena being a frequent consumer myself over the years. So any kind of work you want to do, I likely have the contacts, the resources, the skills, to make it happen.”
Leaning forward to set his glass on the coffee table, he continued with his elbows on his knees. “But my aptitude is not the point at the moment. I could use the excuse that my darling traitorous sister has been trying to get into high fashion forever and beating her there would be deliciously satisfying, but that’s not the point either.” Still leaning forward, he turned towards her, gently unclasping her hands and taking them in his own.
“The point isn’t even that you want to leave. That’s fine. Go to the French Riviera. Go have a Paris spa week with Pansy. Go try to find the love of your life. Travel the world. The point here is,” he paused, leveling the full weight of his gaze on her, all levity gone from his voice. “The point is, come back to me. Figure out what you want to do, whether it be high fashion or high rises, startup or takeover, and come back to me and we’ll make it work. That is the point.”
Edward was not a man who exposed the innermost parts of himself. His moments of emotional honesty were few and far between. Astoria counted herself fortunate she could call him a friend, and it was only natural there was a part of her that was honored and pleased he felt he could trust her enough to share his true thoughts and feelings. Astoria knew Edward well enough to understand how precious this moment was.
But there was another part of her that was unsettled. She and Edward spent a lot of time talking about things, and they spent just as much time intentionally not talking about other things. He set the parameters and she accepted operating within them, but it was more difficult to maneuver when the boundaries had seemingly adjusted. Did he not realize what he’d just asked her? Or at least implied? Go live life and experience things. Sow some oats. Try and find the love of her life if she felt so inclined, but at the end of it all, come back to me... in a professional capacity? As a friend? Something else?
Astoria wasn’t sure what conversation they were having anymore. The literal one had melded some with the one they had studiously avoided for years.
She took one of his hands in both of hers and set it palm up on her lap and then smoothed her own against his until they lined up, lips curling slightly to see again how much longer his fingers were than her own. She then began tracing the lines in his palm, the outermost edge of his fingers and hand. Astoria was glad in a distant sort of way that he’d once again initiated contact between them; the touches settled her.
“If you’re asking me to come back to you professionally, then I can commit to that. I’m sure we can come to an accord on something, and I’ve always enjoyed working with you,” she said after a time, eyes following the light touch of her fingers on his hand. “And if you’re asking me to come back to you as a friend, then you’re being silly, because I will never leave you without my friendship unless you refuse to have me.” Her lips curled slightly, though the expression faded when Astoria finally lifted her gaze again to the man seated next to her. “And if you are asking me to come back to you for another reason, then you will have to be more clear about such before I can promise anything.”
Once Edward had her agreement that she would come back to him, professionally at least, he could feel the tension leave his spine. He always got what he wanted.
But then why wasn’t the conversation over? He studied the brown eyes searching for any sort of insight, lead, or guidance from him. What was she looking for? What more could he give her? He could give her work. Success. Friendship, even. But she mentioned having someone. A life. Children. She was the type of girl that still believed in the illusion of family. Of love. He didn’t believe in either of those things. He couldn’t do that. Could he?
After a pregnant pause, Edward smiled and stilled her hands with both of his. “When you come back, when you know what you want, we’ll see.” He reached for their glasses and placed hers back in her hands. “In the meantime, how about we celebrate to you not standing still? To your unclear and indefinite plans?”
Astoria’s lips twitched.
The long moment he’d searched her face had made her more anxious than she betrayed. The unfamiliar territory they treaded had left her unbalanced, but Edward had steered them to more familiar ground. If there was a part of her disappointed with the continuity of the status quo, there was a mirror part that was relieved by it. She at least knew where she stood and what to do next.
“If we are to celebrate, perhaps it should be something more remarkable than my indecisiveness,” she said. “Mayhap we should drink to Pansy’s good fortune, hmm? She has finally found happiness with the love of her life, after all.”
It took more effort than Edward was willing to admit to keep his face clear and his grip light. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” he asked.
“I like to be positive about it for her sake,” Astoria confessed, for once openly honest. There wasn’t anyone else she could talk to about this as Pansy was really only close with herself and Edward.
“I like Lysander, but he’s been rubbish at being a significant other for the past decade. He wasn’t there …” when it really mattered, when she was sent to Azkaban unjustly, when “... well, he wasn’t there.”
She waved a hand. “Pansy’s happy. That’s all that matters.” Dark eyes flicked up to meet Edward’s gaze. “And speaking of such things, I’d like to visit Mr. Montague to let him know if he breaks her heart again things will not go well for him. I was hoping you’d be willing to ensure I’m not a liar if such was needed?” Astoria would have said something to Lysander sooner, but she didn’t say things she couldn’t follow through with. She wanted to be able to inform Pansy’s beau there were consequences to mucking this up again.
‘Happy, but for how long?’ Edward thought to himself as he took sip from his glass to hide the skeptical smirk that appeared. He wanted to avoid mentioning that he was uncharacteristically late to this meeting because he was with his PI who had confirmed yet another sighting of the allegedly happy couple. She had confirmed what Pansy herself had yet to provide a direct admission of--that she was seeing someone.
“I won’t say how I feel about the matter as I have not yet been officially appraised of the ongoings, but of course you have any of my resources at your disposal,” he answered with a more genuine smile. As perturbed as he was with the developments, he couldn’t deny the pride he felt for Astoria taking the initiative to ensure precautionary measures. “Are we talking mere... discomfort and loss of property or something... off the books, shall we say?”
She couldn’t hide the keen interest that tinted her features at the last of his words. It wasn’t as if she had the means to make something ‘off the books’ happen herself, personally or otherwise, but having such an option at her disposal was a heady thing. Everyone thought her to be purely sweet of disposition, but she could be ruthless. She hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin for no reason.
“Punishments should befit the trespass,” she said after a moment. “I like him. He’s been an entertaining lunch companion the last year or so, but if he shatters my friend,” she said, voice soft, “then he should be shattered in return.”
“That, my darling scheming Astoria, is something you can be assured of and something you should most definitely assure him of,” he said with a predatory glint in his eye.
He chose not to reflect any further on why Pansy’s coupling irked him so much. Diane had questioned him of the same when the PI had brought her findings by earlier. (“Why do you care so much? She’s happy. And also, while I’m at it, I renew my standing objection--As wonderful as Ms. Mars is, a PI on your friends is just creepy.” His answer had carefully only addressed her latter concern--“I say I watch out for my friends and I actually do. I just happen to pay someone to do it. It’s more efficient that way.”)
In that moment, he decided he would tell Veronica to back off (but not completely) and leave the couple to Astoria’s capable hands. With that decision he could feel the remaining tension leave his shoulders. Talking death threats always did make him feel better.
He clinked his glass against hers. “I would offer my personal company as you deliver the threat, but I think it would be more effective when coming from an unknown source. Fear of the unknown and all that.”
“Something like that, yes,” she agreed after sipping the hard liquor and then setting the glass down.
Her lips twitched slightly as she watched him. Edward liked to think he was unreadable, impervious, but she’d spent enough time with him now to note the tiniest things -- like the fact he’d not been surprised about Pansy’s relationship status despite ‘officially’ knowing nothing, or the hard glint in his eye that had matched hers, or the slightest relaxation in his frame just moments prior.
She set her hand on his and when his eyes met hers, she smiled. “Thank you.”
It was only two words, but she meant a lot of things by them -- things she hoped he could read in the sincerity of the sentiment and her expression. If he were a different man she might have tried to verbalize how much she appreciated him and valued his friendship. But he wasn’t a different man. He was Edward and there were just some emotions that weren’t expressed aloud.
Her expression softened. She squeezed his hand and leaned over to brush a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay to show you care about her, you know,” she murmured softly against his ear.
Astoria didn’t wait for a response (she wasn’t going to get one). She only squeezed his hand again and then relinquished the space between them she’d momentarily stolen. “Come on,” she said then. “I’ve had a long day and you’re going to treat me to dinner.”
Amused by her request, Edward found himself laughing. If part of that laughter was due to relief that this conversation was over, it went unacknowledged. “You’ve had a long day?” he contended. “You should hear about my day. One of my best managers just quit and one of my best friends decided to run away to France just so I couldn’t bother her every day.”
He watched bemusedly as Astoria’s mouth open and closed in mock protest. She crossed her arms and turned her face away from him with a small harrumph. He laughed again at her pout and put an arm around her, pulling her into his side. When she still refused to face him, he lightly pressed his lips against the proffered cheek--a small acknowledgement of just how hard her day really had been--the effort it took to come to him, to be honest with him and herself, to refuse to stay stagnate, to fight for her drive.
Releasing her, he stood, continuing his feigned rant. “Besides, I can’t even expense the dinner since technically you aren’t working for me anymore. I really think it should be your treat,” he said, offering his hand out to her.
“You would impose upon the unemployed?” she asked as he assisted her up from the sofa. “No. Don’t answer that,” she said almost immediately after, dark eyes ticking up to his. There were things that hadn’t been said, many unexpected things that had been said, and she was aware that whatever was in his eyes that didn’t quite match the levity of his words and tone was probably in hers too.
But she ignored it. It really had been a long day. And she would come back to him. At least for work. “I don’t want to know the depths of your depravity.”
“Fine. I’ll figure out some way to make it work. Maybe I can expense it under employee recruitment… or take it out of your severance package… I’ll have Diane come up with something,” he assured her, pulling her into his side again so they could Side-Along Apparate. “I can’t send you out into the world thinking I’m a cheapskate. You might not come back.”
The words were said in jest. Light. Humorous. But Astoria knew Edward well enough that the last statement had her tipping her face up to his. His eyes told her what she had suspected. “If you want me with you, then I will always be with you,” she told him.
It was said with a seriousness that was a bit out of place in the joviality of the last few minutes, but it wasn’t out of place for what Astoria had heard underneath the words.
She curled her lips then, and slipped her arm around his waist. “I’m hungry. Chop chop.”
“Fine, fine. No complaints on choice of restaurant since I’m paying though,” he said, although they both knew they were going their usual Blue Owl, which of course was the best. She opened her mouth to make a smart reply but he grinned and apparated them away before she could.
(Posted on 10/23/2013. Backdated to when this scene actually took place.)
She arrived exactly seven minutes early for her meeting with Edward, a meeting that had been put off multiple times over the last few months. Something always seemed to arise at the last minute for one, or both of them. She was insistent this meeting happen sooner than later though. If she waited much longer, she talk herself right out of the conversation she needed to have with him. That this wasn’t the right time. That she was making the wrong decision.
The fact of the matter was that she was going through the motions at White Chapel, and had been for a long time.
When Edward asked her to manage the gallery five years prior she’d been intimidated and unsure she was suited to such a task. She never had expectations for herself beyond being a socialite, and someday a wife. Edward had somehow convinced her she was suited to the task, and much to her surprise, he’d been right. Astoria had found she loved managing the gallery. Loved learning something new, challenging herself, acquainting herself with the world of fine art. She’d loved organizing and putting on the FUSION festival the two years White Chapel had hosted it. Against seeming reason, it really had been a good fit.
But it just wasn’t anymore. There was nothing in particular Astoria could point to as the problem -- mostly because there wasn’t one. She liked the gallery and the people she worked with there. It was just that she was ... done. She wanted to take a break. Actually attend a fashion week. Visit with Romy and her family for more than a single afternoon every month, or actually see her brother at all. She wanted to think about something else besides work. Maybe even say yes to a dinner invitation with a gentleman caller. Perhaps try her hand at something new and different when it suited her.
Astoria wasn’t really sure what she wanted to do. She just didn’t want to be doing this anymore.
She checked her watch again. Two minutes past. He was late.
Diane let her into Edward’s office to wait for him to arrive from whatever meeting he had scheduled prior. It might have been proper and polite to sit herself in one of the chairs in front of the massive desk that dominated his office, but she’d opted for the large swivel chair that matched the desk. It dwarfed her, but she could keep her eye on the door -- and that’s exactly what she did as she counted the minutes (three past now), legs crossed and a dainty foot tapping the air in agitation.
When the door finally did open, a single dark brow rose at the man who stepped through. “You’re five minutes late.”
As much as Edward appreciated the view of a beautiful woman in his chair, he raised his own eyebrow at her choice of seating. Not that he truly minded since she was so beautiful, but it was expected that he show some kind of protest.
Edward had no confirmation with what this meeting was in regards to, but he had an inkling, and his inklings had made him a lot of money over the years. There was only one kind of sit-down meeting that Astoria would have insisted on, despite multiple reschedulings, and it was the kind of meeting that required scotch. As such, he opted to head to the bar rather than try to fight her for his chair.
“I was giving you a chance to change your mind,” he replied smoothly, uncorking a bottle. “Or solidify it. Either way, you should be grateful.”
Astoria ignored the pointed words and instead watched him, confusion tinting her features. He looked... harried, if she could be so bold as to ascribe such to him. It wasn’t that he was unkempt or rumpled, or that he looked as if he was stressed or outwardly tired. There was just an air of weariness hanging about him, as if for some reason he was tired inside.
She stood and her heels made a gentle tap against the floor as she approached him. A small hand was laid on his forearm to draw his attention away from his task and she spoke when he paused to look at her. “Are you alright?”
Edward’s brow furrowed and he studied the petite woman in front of him that he had come to consider a genuine friend, whatever that meant. Normally, he’d have a snarky response prepared--Aren’t I always?. Normally, he’d turn the attack back on her--How could I when you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say?. Normally, he’d turn on the famous Edward charm with a wink--I’m alright now that you’re here.
But, truth be told, normally, he wouldn’t have walked into the room without armoring himself with squared shoulders and perfected poker face. But this was Astoria. His discovery. His risk that paid off. His first real investment. His friend.
So instead, he turned back to his drink and made it a double. “I’m fine,” he answered, his voice leaving no room for questions. At this point, he wasn’t going to offend her by pretending to be something else--he certainly didn’t need her temper today, as cute as it was--but he wasn’t about to talk about feelings.
He poured her a drink as well and gave her no choice but to take it. “So what was so important that we meet?”
Astoria abruptly withdrew her hand from his arm at his first clipped words and then fumbled slightly to handle the tumbler pushed into them moments later; the sudden, unexpected wave of distress and hurt didn’t help her finer motor functions at all, nor did the spike in his agitation. It didn’t matter that he refused to acknowledge his edginess. Astoria could feel it, especially now that she was standing next to him. It pressed against her almost as if it was a physical thing.
This was not going how she had planned. Hell, this wasn’t going well by any standard. Usually their meetings were very light. Comfortable in their predictability. There were times when the things they touched upon were heavier, but this time there was a volatility weighing between them that hadn’t been there before.
Dark eyes fixated on the amber liquid sloshing in the glass as she tried to collect herself once more. It was proving difficult, however, as Edward’s tension was affecting her own composure. Her instincts told her to retreat -- and perhaps at one time she might have, but she wasn’t that girl anymore.
So she set the glass down and made herself look up at him again despite her baser instinct to run away. Made herself say what she’d come to say.
“I...” Slim fingers plucked at the short hem of her dress, an old habit. “I...” Gods, this was much harder than it should have been. “Edward, I need to stop standing still.”
It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, was so very vague, and she kept on, tried to clarify. “I love White Chapel. I love Euan and Meredith, and I love working with you. I just... I feel like I’m...” Her hands fluttered as she tried to find the right words. “I’ve done everything I can think to do for the gallery, and it runs fine whether I’m there or not anymore. Euan’s ready to take over, too, and I know it’s what he’s always wanted. He studied to do this, and has worked so hard...” She was rambling now, but Astoria couldn’t seem to make herself stop. It was almost as if she felt compelled, though she wasn’t sure what it was she was trying to say, which made her all the more anxious.
She lifted her eyes to meet his once more. “I just... need to keep moving. I don’t know, Edward,” she said, a soft, frustrated sigh escaping as she lowered her gaze again. “I don’t know what I want. What I have at White Chapel is familiar and comfortable, but I feel like I’m stuck, like if I’m not careful I’ll wake up ten years from now and be doing exactly what I’m doing right now, and realize that content and fulfilled are completely different things, but I’m too late to do anything about it. All I know is that to find whatever it is, whatever’s next for me, that I need to stop standing still and try and do something about it, even if I haven’t figured out what that is yet.”
Edward didn’t allow himself to respond at first. Instead, he downed what he had in his glass and poured himself another before guiding Astoria to the loveseat. There had been so many deals struck, moments had, laughs heard from this very seat between the two of them, but she wanted to change? Leave?
He stamped the familiar feelings of betrayal that came rushing to the surface. No. This situation was different. Astoria was not his family. She was not trying to hurt him deliberately. She was not trying to take anything away from him. She had no obligations to him. This was different, he told himself. But yet, here was another situation where someone close to him was leaving.
He started to speak, but stopped himself, polishing off his scotch instead. Wordlessly, he stood to refill his glass. Even with his back turned, he could feel Astoria’s big brown eyes on him--reading, analyzing, pausing.
He was torn. He wanted to accuse her of betraying him like his family and everyone else always did, but knew that she wasn’t trying to hurt him personally. He wanted to vent his frustrations at his loss, yet felt obligated to keep his stoic image. He wanted to fight for her to stay, but knew he should quietly let her go.
Fuck it. No he didn’t. He didn’t have to let her go. When did Edward Carmichael, V ever not fight for something he wanted? And if he wanted to keep Astoria, he would, never mind the reason why, or how.
With a plan in mind, he sat back on loveseat commanding the tension out of his shoulders. He held her questioning gaze for a moment before letting the corner of his lips turn up a bit to ease the tension in the room. “You need a change? Okay. We can make a change. Are you tired of me, work, or the gallery?” he challenged her.
He wasn’t fooling her. Astoria had seen something in his eyes the moment they landed on her when he walked in the door, and then he’d gone on to down two servings of scotch in a matter of minutes. He’d as much as snapped at her for asking after him. After she’d laid out for him what she was about he hesitated.
Dark eyes flicked from the tiny smirk of a smile hinting at the edges of his mouth, up to his gaze. His eyes didn’t match the easy expression he’d adopted; his regard was weighty with intent and focus on her.
She shifted slightly, crossed her legs at the ankles, forced her hands to her lap so she wouldn’t reach out again. He was projecting a cocktail of emotions now, all of them potent, and it pressed on her, ratcheting up her own anxiety at even speaking to him about this. Her concern for him only further affected her, but Edward had all but told her to leave off it. Frustration at her inability to address the elephant in the room further frayed at her nerves.
She shifted her gaze away from his as she forced her mind away from what they weren’t discussing to what they were.
“It’s not that I’m tired of anything,” she said finally, the weariness and frustration she felt at the moment leaking into her tone. “I like the gallery and the people I work with. It’s just that I don’t feel I’ve anything to offer White Chapel, nor do I think it has anything else to offer me. There is much growth to be had under new management, however. Euan, in particular,” she told him, eyes on an understated abstract painting she’d hand picked for his office several years ago now.
Speaking settled her some and she finally shifted her eyes back to his. “He was always more qualified than I with his knowledge and degrees, but now he has the experience as well. I’ve been grooming him for years, and he’s ready. I’ve done what I can and the gallery will not see further exponential growth with me. You’ve made your return on your investment in me, as it were,” she said, a tiny smile curling her lips. Over the years she’d picked up more business savvy than she’d ever thought possible. “Speaking as someone who wants to see you succeed and stick it to your family further by doing so, having Euan in my place at White Chapel is the best thing you could do for your company.
And as for my personal reasons...” she shrugged, a slight, frustrated lift of slim shoulders. “I don’t know, Edward. It’s not you.” She glanced at him. “I love be able to call on you with a ready excuse at hand.” A hint of a smile curled the edges of her mouth.
“But the gallery’s not growing anymore, and I’m not growing anymore. I’m too comfortable. In everything. I go to work early and come home late, and on most days I enjoy what I’m doing and enjoy the people I do it with. I have been content with that for a long time, but it’s not all I want for myself. I do want to do something I find fulfilling and challenging,” Astoria felt heat touch the high points of her cheeks as she approached the last of her thoughts, “but I want to share it with someone. I want to have children. Being married to my work and only seeing my father and you with any kind of regularity hasn’t been conducive to making that a possibility.”
Edward was her friend, but these were not things she’d candidly shared with him in the past. Astoria felt she owed him the whole truth behind her decision though.
Edward nodded as he attentively listened to her explanation, all the while, analyzing the situation, evaluating his options, and planning ahead, as he did best.
“Well, thank you for being honest with me,” he said as she finished. “Knowing you, you’ve put a lot of thought into this decision, so I won’t try to change your mind. I won’t use any of my business tricks on you. You can relax.” At her skeptical look, he shot her a crooked smile. “I just want to keep you happy, even if you say it’s making sure you’re not comfortable.”
“Now correct me if I’m wrong. What I’m hearing is that you love it, but you’re finished with the gallery. You want out. If you say Euan is ready to take your place, then he takes your place. Done.” Having decided on a course of direction, he felt slightly more at ease. Fighting for what he wanted was something he did everyday. Today he just happened to be fighting for his first investment. “But what I’m not hearing is that you aren’t necessarily done with work, or me. Am I right?”
She gave him a look. “I wouldn’t be ‘done’ with you regardless,” she said, the barest traces of fond exasperation tinting her tone, “and no, I’m not done with work. Theoretically.” Astoria was quick enough to pick up on the fact that he seemed intent on repurposing her, as it were, but she hadn’t a clue what he had in mind.
“Well, that’s a relief. I was dreading how much I would have to spend in gifts to win you back over,” he said lightly, answering her look with a wink.
Astoria had the strongest urge to poke her tongue out at him for his cheek, but forced her focus to his words instead of his expressions.
“So is there something or someone else who has caught your eye? Any particular work you want to do?” he asked searchingly. He was fishing to see exactly what Astoria was looking for so he could offer it to her on a silver platter. “Do you want to stay in the art world or venture into other business arenas? Are you looking to start something new or takeover?”
She gave him a long blink. Astoria supposed she should have been prepared to explain herself, but it hadn’t occurred to her Edward would be interested in her endeavors outside his company.
“... actually I haven’t much more than a vague sense of what I’d like to do next,” she admitted. Astoria felt a faint blush color her cheeks; the bit of her plans defining what she would do after leaving White Chapel had always been indistinct. It wasn’t as if she needed to work, so she hadn’t let herself stress about it much.
“I only know that I wanted to take some time off. Go to the French Riviera for a vacation. After that...” She splayed her fingers on her lap. “I want to go back to fashion, I think. Perhaps, menswear. Other than that?” She shrugged, a delicate lift of slim shoulders. “I’m not sure. It’s been five years since I spent a significant amount of time dabbling in such things, and last I did engage my old acquaintances regularly, I was in my early twenties and no more than a personal assistant. It could be strongly argued I haven’t got much more to offer now than I did then, but...”
Astoria lifted her eyes to meet Edward’s. “If you hadn’t guessed yet, my plans are very unclear and indefinite.” Her lips curved into a rueful smile. “And I’m quite sure your company doesn’t have any branches or subsidiaries in high fashion.”
“It amuses me that you still doubt me after all these years,” he reproached her lightly. “No, my company doesn’t. But it does own and manage real estate that such businesses are housed on. I also have more than a few friends in that arena being a frequent consumer myself over the years. So any kind of work you want to do, I likely have the contacts, the resources, the skills, to make it happen.”
Leaning forward to set his glass on the coffee table, he continued with his elbows on his knees. “But my aptitude is not the point at the moment. I could use the excuse that my darling traitorous sister has been trying to get into high fashion forever and beating her there would be deliciously satisfying, but that’s not the point either.” Still leaning forward, he turned towards her, gently unclasping her hands and taking them in his own.
“The point isn’t even that you want to leave. That’s fine. Go to the French Riviera. Go have a Paris spa week with Pansy. Go try to find the love of your life. Travel the world. The point here is,” he paused, leveling the full weight of his gaze on her, all levity gone from his voice. “The point is, come back to me. Figure out what you want to do, whether it be high fashion or high rises, startup or takeover, and come back to me and we’ll make it work. That is the point.”
Edward was not a man who exposed the innermost parts of himself. His moments of emotional honesty were few and far between. Astoria counted herself fortunate she could call him a friend, and it was only natural there was a part of her that was honored and pleased he felt he could trust her enough to share his true thoughts and feelings. Astoria knew Edward well enough to understand how precious this moment was.
But there was another part of her that was unsettled. She and Edward spent a lot of time talking about things, and they spent just as much time intentionally not talking about other things. He set the parameters and she accepted operating within them, but it was more difficult to maneuver when the boundaries had seemingly adjusted. Did he not realize what he’d just asked her? Or at least implied? Go live life and experience things. Sow some oats. Try and find the love of her life if she felt so inclined, but at the end of it all, come back to me... in a professional capacity? As a friend? Something else?
Astoria wasn’t sure what conversation they were having anymore. The literal one had melded some with the one they had studiously avoided for years.
She took one of his hands in both of hers and set it palm up on her lap and then smoothed her own against his until they lined up, lips curling slightly to see again how much longer his fingers were than her own. She then began tracing the lines in his palm, the outermost edge of his fingers and hand. Astoria was glad in a distant sort of way that he’d once again initiated contact between them; the touches settled her.
“If you’re asking me to come back to you professionally, then I can commit to that. I’m sure we can come to an accord on something, and I’ve always enjoyed working with you,” she said after a time, eyes following the light touch of her fingers on his hand. “And if you’re asking me to come back to you as a friend, then you’re being silly, because I will never leave you without my friendship unless you refuse to have me.” Her lips curled slightly, though the expression faded when Astoria finally lifted her gaze again to the man seated next to her. “And if you are asking me to come back to you for another reason, then you will have to be more clear about such before I can promise anything.”
Once Edward had her agreement that she would come back to him, professionally at least, he could feel the tension leave his spine. He always got what he wanted.
But then why wasn’t the conversation over? He studied the brown eyes searching for any sort of insight, lead, or guidance from him. What was she looking for? What more could he give her? He could give her work. Success. Friendship, even. But she mentioned having someone. A life. Children. She was the type of girl that still believed in the illusion of family. Of love. He didn’t believe in either of those things. He couldn’t do that. Could he?
After a pregnant pause, Edward smiled and stilled her hands with both of his. “When you come back, when you know what you want, we’ll see.” He reached for their glasses and placed hers back in her hands. “In the meantime, how about we celebrate to you not standing still? To your unclear and indefinite plans?”
Astoria’s lips twitched.
The long moment he’d searched her face had made her more anxious than she betrayed. The unfamiliar territory they treaded had left her unbalanced, but Edward had steered them to more familiar ground. If there was a part of her disappointed with the continuity of the status quo, there was a mirror part that was relieved by it. She at least knew where she stood and what to do next.
“If we are to celebrate, perhaps it should be something more remarkable than my indecisiveness,” she said. “Mayhap we should drink to Pansy’s good fortune, hmm? She has finally found happiness with the love of her life, after all.”
It took more effort than Edward was willing to admit to keep his face clear and his grip light. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?” he asked.
“I like to be positive about it for her sake,” Astoria confessed, for once openly honest. There wasn’t anyone else she could talk to about this as Pansy was really only close with herself and Edward.
“I like Lysander, but he’s been rubbish at being a significant other for the past decade. He wasn’t there …” when it really mattered, when she was sent to Azkaban unjustly, when “... well, he wasn’t there.”
She waved a hand. “Pansy’s happy. That’s all that matters.” Dark eyes flicked up to meet Edward’s gaze. “And speaking of such things, I’d like to visit Mr. Montague to let him know if he breaks her heart again things will not go well for him. I was hoping you’d be willing to ensure I’m not a liar if such was needed?” Astoria would have said something to Lysander sooner, but she didn’t say things she couldn’t follow through with. She wanted to be able to inform Pansy’s beau there were consequences to mucking this up again.
‘Happy, but for how long?’ Edward thought to himself as he took sip from his glass to hide the skeptical smirk that appeared. He wanted to avoid mentioning that he was uncharacteristically late to this meeting because he was with his PI who had confirmed yet another sighting of the allegedly happy couple. She had confirmed what Pansy herself had yet to provide a direct admission of--that she was seeing someone.
“I won’t say how I feel about the matter as I have not yet been officially appraised of the ongoings, but of course you have any of my resources at your disposal,” he answered with a more genuine smile. As perturbed as he was with the developments, he couldn’t deny the pride he felt for Astoria taking the initiative to ensure precautionary measures. “Are we talking mere... discomfort and loss of property or something... off the books, shall we say?”
She couldn’t hide the keen interest that tinted her features at the last of his words. It wasn’t as if she had the means to make something ‘off the books’ happen herself, personally or otherwise, but having such an option at her disposal was a heady thing. Everyone thought her to be purely sweet of disposition, but she could be ruthless. She hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin for no reason.
“Punishments should befit the trespass,” she said after a moment. “I like him. He’s been an entertaining lunch companion the last year or so, but if he shatters my friend,” she said, voice soft, “then he should be shattered in return.”
“That, my darling scheming Astoria, is something you can be assured of and something you should most definitely assure him of,” he said with a predatory glint in his eye.
He chose not to reflect any further on why Pansy’s coupling irked him so much. Diane had questioned him of the same when the PI had brought her findings by earlier. (“Why do you care so much? She’s happy. And also, while I’m at it, I renew my standing objection--As wonderful as Ms. Mars is, a PI on your friends is just creepy.” His answer had carefully only addressed her latter concern--“I say I watch out for my friends and I actually do. I just happen to pay someone to do it. It’s more efficient that way.”)
In that moment, he decided he would tell Veronica to back off (but not completely) and leave the couple to Astoria’s capable hands. With that decision he could feel the remaining tension leave his shoulders. Talking death threats always did make him feel better.
He clinked his glass against hers. “I would offer my personal company as you deliver the threat, but I think it would be more effective when coming from an unknown source. Fear of the unknown and all that.”
“Something like that, yes,” she agreed after sipping the hard liquor and then setting the glass down.
Her lips twitched slightly as she watched him. Edward liked to think he was unreadable, impervious, but she’d spent enough time with him now to note the tiniest things -- like the fact he’d not been surprised about Pansy’s relationship status despite ‘officially’ knowing nothing, or the hard glint in his eye that had matched hers, or the slightest relaxation in his frame just moments prior.
She set her hand on his and when his eyes met hers, she smiled. “Thank you.”
It was only two words, but she meant a lot of things by them -- things she hoped he could read in the sincerity of the sentiment and her expression. If he were a different man she might have tried to verbalize how much she appreciated him and valued his friendship. But he wasn’t a different man. He was Edward and there were just some emotions that weren’t expressed aloud.
Her expression softened. She squeezed his hand and leaned over to brush a kiss to his cheek. “It’s okay to show you care about her, you know,” she murmured softly against his ear.
Astoria didn’t wait for a response (she wasn’t going to get one). She only squeezed his hand again and then relinquished the space between them she’d momentarily stolen. “Come on,” she said then. “I’ve had a long day and you’re going to treat me to dinner.”
Amused by her request, Edward found himself laughing. If part of that laughter was due to relief that this conversation was over, it went unacknowledged. “You’ve had a long day?” he contended. “You should hear about my day. One of my best managers just quit and one of my best friends decided to run away to France just so I couldn’t bother her every day.”
He watched bemusedly as Astoria’s mouth open and closed in mock protest. She crossed her arms and turned her face away from him with a small harrumph. He laughed again at her pout and put an arm around her, pulling her into his side. When she still refused to face him, he lightly pressed his lips against the proffered cheek--a small acknowledgement of just how hard her day really had been--the effort it took to come to him, to be honest with him and herself, to refuse to stay stagnate, to fight for her drive.
Releasing her, he stood, continuing his feigned rant. “Besides, I can’t even expense the dinner since technically you aren’t working for me anymore. I really think it should be your treat,” he said, offering his hand out to her.
“You would impose upon the unemployed?” she asked as he assisted her up from the sofa. “No. Don’t answer that,” she said almost immediately after, dark eyes ticking up to his. There were things that hadn’t been said, many unexpected things that had been said, and she was aware that whatever was in his eyes that didn’t quite match the levity of his words and tone was probably in hers too.
But she ignored it. It really had been a long day. And she would come back to him. At least for work. “I don’t want to know the depths of your depravity.”
“Fine. I’ll figure out some way to make it work. Maybe I can expense it under employee recruitment… or take it out of your severance package… I’ll have Diane come up with something,” he assured her, pulling her into his side again so they could Side-Along Apparate. “I can’t send you out into the world thinking I’m a cheapskate. You might not come back.”
The words were said in jest. Light. Humorous. But Astoria knew Edward well enough that the last statement had her tipping her face up to his. His eyes told her what she had suspected. “If you want me with you, then I will always be with you,” she told him.
It was said with a seriousness that was a bit out of place in the joviality of the last few minutes, but it wasn’t out of place for what Astoria had heard underneath the words.
She curled her lips then, and slipped her arm around his waist. “I’m hungry. Chop chop.”
“Fine, fine. No complaints on choice of restaurant since I’m paying though,” he said, although they both knew they were going their usual Blue Owl, which of course was the best. She opened her mouth to make a smart reply but he grinned and apparated them away before she could.
(Posted on 10/23/2013. Backdated to when this scene actually took place.)