Chapter 85

~ Octavia ~

The following morning, I called into the office to let them know I wouldn’t be coming in. My head still felt like it was encased in lead, and the thought of facing the fluorescent lights of the firm—or worse, another run-in with Bella—was more than I could handle. Besides, I was expecting Clinton. After our phone call, we had arranged for him to come by the apartment that afternoon.

When the knock finally came, I took a deep breath before opening the door. Clinton stood there, looking polished yet casual in a dark sweater, a hesitant but warm smile on his face.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey. Come on in." I stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

"Thank you for having me," he said as I closed the door. He reached out, and we shared a brief, lingering hug. "I’ll be honest, Octavia—I really thought I’d lost the privilege of seeing you again. I thought you might never talk to me after everything."

We moved toward the living room and took our seats on the couch. I let out a small, weary chuckle. "Now, why would I do that? I told you I’d call when I was ready, didn’t I? Well... here we are."

"Yeah," he nodded, his eyes searching mine.

"Here we are. How have you been since that day at the restaurant?"

"Not great," I admitted, shrugging as I leaned back against the cushions.

"What happened?" He shifted closer, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. "You look... tired, Octavia. Tell me."

I let out a long, jagged sigh. "A lot has happened, Clinton. Too much to explain in one go. But more than anything, I’ve had time to think about us. About the secrets and the way you were working with your father to expose the Flemingtons."

He started to speak, but I raised a hand to gently silence him. "Wait, let me finish. I was hurt. I felt like a tool in some grand corporate war. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose your friendship over a grudge. I understand why you kept me in the dark — you were protecting your interests, and perhaps me, too. It’s in the past now. I want us to be friends again. That is...if you still want that."

"Of course I do," he said without a second of hesitation. He reached out, taking my hand in his. His skin was warm, a grounding contrast to the coldness I’d felt lately. "I want to be your friend, or more, if you’ll ever have me. Does this mean you forgive me?"

"Yes, Clinton. I forgive you."

He pulled me into another hug, this one tighter and more relieved. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. I really thought I’d pushed it too far."

"You did," I teased as we pulled apart, though my expression turned serious. "Just don’t fuck up a second time. I don’t give out third chances."

"I won’t. I promise." He looked around the room, sniffing the air. "It smells amazing in here. Like a botanical garden."

"Oh, that." I gestured vaguely toward the hallway where the trash bags were. "That would be the lingering scent of twenty bouquets of orchids and sunflowers. A birthday gift from Franklin. I got rid of them this morning."

Clinton’s smile faltered, replaced by a sharp frown. "Your birthday?"

"Yesterday," I said with a shrug.

"Yesterday? And you didn’t tell me?" His eyes widened in disbelief. "Octavia, I feel terrible. I had no idea."

"We weren’t exactly on speaking terms, Clinton. I just wanted to celebrate quietly with Victoria, my best friend."

"But you saw Franklin? That’s why he sent the flowers?" I could hear the sharp edge of jealousy in his voice, his posture stiffening.

"Don’t go jumping to conclusions," I said, glaring at him until his expression softened. "I saw him at a club, and it wasn’t a ’celebration.’ He didn’t even remember it was my birthday until Victoria mentioned it to him. The flowers were a bribe for a conversation I’m not ready to have."

"I’m sorry," Clinton sighed, deflating. "I guess I’m just jealous. I hate that he had access to you when I didn’t."

"Hmmm... It’s fine," I said, tucking my legs underneath me on the couch. I explained the business trip to Long Island, and I saw the confusion on his face.

"A field trip? I never heard a word about that," he said, tilting his head.

"Really? I assumed everyone in the industry knew." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"No," Clinton scoffed, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Franklin is clever. He probably kept the details under wraps so I wouldn’t find an excuse to ’accidentally’ show up. He’s territorial, I’ll give him that."

"Well, it doesn’t matter now. It’s over," I said, wanting to change the subject. "I was actually thinking of watching a movie tonight to take my mind off things. Care to join?"

"I’d love to. What’s the lineup?"

"I was debating between The Truman Show or something classic like Titanic, but I’m not in the mood to cry. I settled on the original 1962 James Bond: Dr. No."

"A classic," Clinton nodded approvingly.

"But we need food. My treat—no protests. I’m ordering McDonald’s."

An hour later, we were surrounded by burger wrappers and fries, the black-and-white (and Technicolor) world of 007 playing out on my laptop. For the first time in days, I felt the tension leave my shoulders.

"Look at that," I said, nudging Clinton’s arm with my elbow as I popped a fry into my mouth. "Bond just walks into the room like he owns the entire Caribbean. The confidence is unbeatable."

Clinton grinned, squinting at the screen. "I don’t know, Octavia. This villain, Dr. No... he’s a bit underwhelming, don’t you think? I expected someone a bit more terrifying."

"Oh, hush! For 1962, he was the height of villainy! And look at the tailoring on those suits," I argued with a smile. "Bond’s wardrobe is still the gold standard."

"Okay, okay, I’ll give you the suits," Clinton laughed. "But the pacing? Why is he walking so slow in this scene?"

"It’s called suspense, Clinton! Once he gets to the island, things get wild."

Suddenly, Clinton stood up, striking a dramatic, stiff-backed pose. He narrowed his eyes and spoke in a low, gravelly rasp, perfectly mimicking the villain’s voice. "I’m afraid you are just too late, Mr. Bond..."

I erupted into laughter, nearly dropping my drink. "Oh my god, Clinton! That was perfect! If they ever do a remake, you’re a shoe-in for the role."

"I missed my calling, clearly," he grinned, staying in character for a few more seconds before collapsing back onto the couch beside me. "I think I’d make a much more charming villain than he does."

"I agree," I said, giving him a thumbs-up.

As the movie continued, I realized that this was exactly what I needed — no drama, no lies, and no suffocating expectations.

Just a quiet room, a silly movie, and a friend who made me laugh. For a few hours, the world outside—and the man who had broken my heart—felt a million miles away.