"Hello?" Pt. 1

Evelyn

So this unedited update is from Evelyn's POV. You all seemed to like last weekend's updates from Elias and Jasmine's POV, so I thought I might try this. 

Sarah, xx

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"What do you mean, change your flight?" I stared at the man in front of me, watching as he ran a hand through his messy hair. 

Daniel was no longer the same boy I'd known when he was an awkward pre-teen, but at this very moment, I hardly recognised him at all. He'd changed so much in these past few months, not that that was a bad thing. In fact, it was surprisingly refreshing to see him smile. He hasn't smiled like that in over ten years. 

"Your flight is already booked for Thursday," I remind him, looking down at the leather diary that was currently opened on this upcoming week. Marked on Thursday was DANIEL NEW YORK. Frowning, I allow my gaze to travel up to Daniel, noticing him pacing the carpet of his office. "Any particular reason you want to reschedule your flight?"

Ever since I came to be employed at Daniel's law firm as his personal assistant, I've been in charge of his schedule and I know it inside out. This week was a relatively quiet compared to usual; I'd cleared almost his entire week to accommodate the fact that Daniel would be attending Sophie's sister's wedding, plus Monday was a Bank Holiday, so there was room for scope regarding changing his flight. Although, I was still a little lost as to why he'd want to leave earlier than planned, I knew it had something to do with that spiky brunette that had Daniel transfixed. 

Sophie Delaney, or Clément as Daniel always referred to her as, is a hurricane of a woman. The way that she tore through Daniel's life and threw everything into a spin, Sophie has been the biggest game-changer. I've never been a fan of any of Daniel's previous girlfriends, but Arabella was the worst. Anyone with half a brain could see that she was in the relationship solely for the social status of being the Earl of Castleton's girlfriend. She would bandy that title around whenever she introduced Daniel to anyone, and the way she would flat out refuse to call him 'Daniel' was simply disrespectful. I had half a mind to claw out her eyes whenever I heard her sickly sweet voice call him 'Henry.' 

Of course, we had all tried to get Daniel to see that Arabella wasn't the one for him, but in those early days, he was too infatuated with her to care. She could play the doe eyed, in-love role to perfection and Daniel would never question her motives. For years, he got sucked in deeper and deeper until it was too late. 

I can still recall the day that Daniel stood awkwardly at my desk, hand scratching the back of his neck, as he shifted from foot to foot. I looked up at him, amused that he looked this nervous. He hadn't looked this anxious since he was fifteen and I found a stack of top shelf magazines in his bedroom. Granted, those magazines were Elias' which he'd left after the last holiday they'd come home for, but it was still funny seeing Daniel try to explain away the items. 

Last October, however, seeing him agitated put me on edge. Daniel looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulder, almost as if he hadn't slept in days. From the dark circles under his eyes, I guessed he hadn't. I stared at him, giving him that look he was more than familiar with, until he relented and spoke the words that he had to force off his tongue.

"I'm going to ask Arabella to be my wife," he'd said. 

That day, Daniel dragged me to countless jewellery stores in London, trying to find the right ring. Trudging from one shop to another, using my ring finger as a stand-in, Daniel cast his eye over every diamond band that he could find. Too small, not big enough, not showy enough. Arabella had high standards and no ring was big enough or expensive enough for her. I'd suggested that Daniel get his family's heirloom, the one all brides marrying into the Courtenay family received on their engagement, but he said that the only way he was going to get that ring was by prying it out of his formidable grandmother's cold, dead hands.