A short laugh burst from his
lips, and a few passengers in nearby seats glanced curiously his
way.
There, on the page, was the cause for William's amusement. The
little orange dots, speckling the paper. Matthew's one-time soda
pop success, now a mere stain on William's organization chart.
Pop, pop, fizzle, he mused, and sipped his cocktail.
* * *
Peter stood beneath Hoover Tower on the Stanford Campus, not far
from the very place where he had first met Ivy. He had agreed to
meet her here, to discuss the terms of her cases against him.
In the time he had to wait for her, he considered his life as it
was at this moment. He had long ago gotten over the hurt and
anger he had felt from being ousted from Wallaby. He missed Kate,
but the work he was doing with Byron went a long way to keeping
his mind off his loss of her. Not all the way, but enough to
help. Isle was healthy, and Ivy's lawyers had said that she was
deemed stable enough to mother her baby. But it was his baby,
too. And had he not felt something for her, that night they were
together? To be honest, he was not sure. That night was long past
now, lost in mixed up events and complicated circumstances. All
that remained of it was the unusual feeling he still carried in
his heart, about everything that had been affected by his actions
that evening.
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