Tendrils of Ice: Fire and Ice, #5

By Faith O'Shea

Arianna Woodley was finally off the campaign trail and returning to her law firm, where she swore, she'd spend the remainder of her days. It was where she could live and breathe. It was also where her friends were.

But when Evan Cox her former opponent and former husband began a campaign of a different sort, one for her heart, she was stunned to the core. He'd left her decades ago, in the midst of a crisis. He was now claiming he'd never intended to leave for good, thought they'd needed time away from each other to sort things out. Wasn't it time to re-write their ending?

Could she risk her heart again and go for the happily-ever-after he was promising?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faith O'Shea
• Release date: Jul 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780999680681

Book preview

TENDRILS OF ICE

Arianna Woodley was finally off the campaign trail and returning to her law firm, where she swore, she’d spend the remainder of her days. It was where she could live and breathe. It was also where her friends were.

But when Evan Cox her former opponent and former husband began a campaign of a different sort, one for her heart, she was stunned to the core. He’d left her decades ago, in the midst of a crisis. He was now claiming he’d never intended to leave for good, thought they’d needed time away from each other to sort things out. Wasn’t it time to re-write their ending?

Could she risk her heart again and go for the happily-ever-after he was promising?

TENDRILS OF ICE

Faith O’Shea

Copyright© 2018 Susan Campbell/ Faith O’Shea

All right reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by an electronic, mechanical or other means, now known of hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in an information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author Susan Campbell(writing as Faith O’Shea) at [e-mail].

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are wither the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by Jaycee DeLorenzo at Sweet ´N Spicy Designs

Formatted by Woven Red Author Services, www.wovenRed.ca

Tendrils of Ice/Faith O’Shea˗1st Edition

ISBN eBook: 978-0-9996806-8-1

ISBN print book:978-0-9996806-9-8

Acknowledgments

First, I’d like to acknowledge my grandmother, Mildred Fuoco, who died a couple of years ago one month shy of her 100th birthday. In the few years before she passed, I spent a lot of time with her, taking her grocery shopping, sitting over tea, bringing her to play cards with her friends, or just hanging out. She was one feisty woman, her mind only beginning to go at the end. While I was reading up on Alzheimer’s, I realized that my Nana had some of the same symptoms and proclivities as the character, Hampton, in Tendrils, and some of the situations I dealt with, have been included in the book. My brother Gary would be called at his office twenty miles away to drop what he was doing to go fix her heat, my cousin Cheryl would pay her bills. My cousin Karen would be the one called at midnight to pick her up at the hospital when she had one of her panic attacks and summoned an ambulance. My cousin Leslie would spend valuable time with her, clean up her house and make sure she was taking her medicine. Sometimes we lost patience with her repetitive questions, her obsession with her bank accounts and her adamant belief she could live at home until the end. She couldn’t and we had to move her out of her house, something we all regretted. (Especially after she threatened to call elder services on us.)

I miss her. A lot. And if I were to dedicate a book, this one would be to her.

I’d like to thank my friend, Bunny, for reading yet another of my drafts. That she takes her valuable time to read the first edition, before editing, to give me her opinion, is appreciated.

I’d like to thank my editor, Amy from Blue Otter Editing, for her expertise. She has become a valued partner in my writing life and I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Jaycee DeLorenzo form Sweet ̍N Spicy Designs has done it again. I want to thank her for her great work and the amazing covers she created for all four books of the series.

I’d also like to thank Joan Frantschuk, from Woven Red Author Services, who not only formats my work for eBook and print but who has become a valued resource.

And of course, I’d like to say thanks to my family. Jeff, Kait, Juan, Justin, Kathryn, Jaiden, Jakob, Jon-Christopher, Dominic and Liam. They surround me with the kind of love necessary for creating novels that touch the heart.

And to all who read my books, I thank you for taking time out of your life, to journey with me.

CHAPTER ONE

Arianna Woodley startled awake, her cell ring pulling her up from the depths of sleep.

She hadn’t gotten home until the wee hours of the morning after her last campaign stop, held in Lexington, an affluent town west of Boston, on the road to governor. It was an endless stream of rallies, fast food and late nights, and she had to count on her handler to tell her where they were and what day of the week it was. In need of a break, she’d scheduled three luxurious days of R and R, and thought she’d be able to re-coup some lost sleep.

She moaned, rolled over, and squinted at the ID, wanting to know who the hell was calling her, the time illuminated, telling her it was as early as she thought.

The words Governor’s Office had her struggling to a sitting position and scrambling to clear her brain of the cobwebs before answering.

She heard an unusual edge to her voice when she said, Arianna Woodley.

As she listened intently, Barker’s chief of staff explained that the governor had set up an 8:00 o’clock meeting this morning and he hoped she could accommodate him. Reading between the lines, Arianna knew it wasn’t an invitation, but more of a directive and she had no choice but to agree to his summons.

As soon as she swiped off, she threw the covers off and jumped out of bed. She had barely an hour to get ready, leaving the remaining hour for the trip into the city. Friday traffic was a bitch any way you looked at it.

Racing downstairs to get her coffee maker going, she took stock of what needed to be done before she got in the shower.

What would she wear? How would she get there?

She flew back up the stairs to get her cell and texted the company she’d come to rely on for local transport, not wanting to waste any time looking for a parking space in front of the state house. Relieved they could manage the last-minute request, and with one worry behind her, her mind began to juggle a half-a-dozen others, primarily the why behind the meeting.

What the hell did Governor Barker want? And what was so important he had to meet with her this morning? Couldn’t he have waited until a more decent hour? He had to know that her schedule was stuffed to overflowing. He’d run this race once himself, and for her it was a case of making up for lost time. She’d been late getting into the campaign and had to run like hell to play catch-up with her political opponent.

She flung her closet door open and pushed hangers back and forth knowing she needed to look professional, but the heat today was going to be a killer and she wanted material that breathed. As she considered her options, a dozen more questions came to mind.

Would the press be there? Was Barker going to tell her that he was endorsing the man running against her? Both were conservatives, in stark contrast to her liberal underpinnings. But there was a glaring contrast between Barker and Cox, one a moderate, the other flinging the bullshit that came from the top of the party. Barker, in all good conscience, couldn’t support it, could he?

His COS hadn’t given any details, had cut off the call before she could ask, so she was going in blind.

After two cups of coffee and a shower, she felt more in control. After putting the finishing touches on her make-up, her transformation would be complete. She’d performed in record time. It was one of the down sides of running for governor. She had to have her face on every time she went out. All men had to do was show up, well dressed was a given, but they didn’t have to put hours into the preparation women did. There would be comments, either way, she was sure of it. How critical had the media been of Hillary, of any of the females running for office? Too much emphasis on clothes and not enough on substantive issues. Men skated by with the bare essentials and did quite well. Not the only one sick of old, white men determining her life and choices, she wanted to add her voice to the ones clamoring for change.

One last call had to be made before she left. She was glad her brother, Baird, her so-called campaign manager, had flown to the West Coast to take care of a problem. He would have added to the nervous tension she already felt.

Baird Woodley’s firm, Running to Win, organized political races all over the country and for as much as he’d bullied her into this, he’d been too busy to play the role of CEO in her efforts to gain the governor’s office and passed her on to one of his associates. He’d told her she was a natural and felt his services were needed by some of the other candidates looking to fill vacancies.

In a hoarse voice, he asked, What do you mean Barker wants to see you? Why?

I have no idea. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.

Did you ping Saul?

Saul Chambers was the man assigned to her as campaign chair, and he accompanied her to all her events, covered advertising and polling, and directly supported her efforts. He was a small, wiry man in his mid-forties with the energy and know-how to handle PR, crowd control and twenty-hour days.

No. I don’t need a rally cry. And I’m not showing up with a crutch.

She could picture Baird pacing, nibbling his nail, his stress level rising in increments, his light red hair in spikes from bed head.

What the hell could Barker want this late in the campaign? And why you? There’s something going on here and I won’t be able to relax until I know what it is.

Arianna dropped down on the bed, massaging her forehead.

Are you like this with all your clients? It can’t be good for their nerves.

Of course I’m not. You’re my sister. What are you wearing?

She made a face at the phone. What the hell kind of question was that? What did he think she was wearing, jeans and a tee shirt?

She’d chosen a red linen dress, accented with a brown belt and matching brown shoes. She’d prefer to be wearing shorts and working in her garden on this hot August day. Her home was her haven, where she was free from posturing, and out of the spotlight. Very few saw her at her most elemental self, because she let very few in. She was beginning to miss her downtime, her office, her friends, her old life. For the first couple of months, she’d been exhilarated by the busy agenda, loved meeting new people, loved rabble-rousing, loved making trouble. In the last month, she’d become less enthused, wanting to fight on the stage she was used to. She’d woken up this morning almost sorry she’d gone for the brass ring.

What I wore the day I announced.

That’s good. I’m glad you never joined the pant suit brigade.

She didn’t like his inference. Had she missed seeing this side to him, another man being censorious of a woman’s attire? She wanted to believe he wasn’t like most men.

There’s nothing wrong with pantsuits. They’re just not my style.

Hillary had been mocked for decades, was the butt of nasty jokes about her taste in clothes. The insults centered on her gender and she was portrayed as unattractive. Like the T-rex president was such a hunk…yuck. Or any of the other men who’d been running for the highest office. There wasn’t a prize among them. The swipes at her looks were meant to disparage her qualifications. Disparage one woman, you disparaged them all and it rankled. Bigly.

For her, working in a courtroom meant suits or dresses. She’d never worn pants in front of a judge and never intended to. It was still an old boys’ network, but she never intended to join it. Instead, she’d started her own. Woodley and Fisher was the most prestigious law firm in the city, and along with her partner Mia Fisher, she’d changed the field of play. She had her own turf and called the shots.

I hope you don’t disparage the women you’re handling. Let them wear what suits them.

Completely ignoring her advice, he asked, Do you think he’s going to swing his support to Evan? The polls have you in the lead by a substantial margin so maybe Barker’s being pressured to endorse him. That he hasn’t, to this point, has hurt your opponent.

From what I’ve heard and seen so far, Barker doesn’t cave into pressure.

He’d been a vocal component of the oppositional party, going against the grain, supporting sanctuary cities, immigration reform and health care. He’d stayed away from the Kool-Aid.

Your views are more in line with his but the R after his name prohibits him from saying so.

He’s been a good governor. If he was staying, I wouldn’t have gotten into this.

I know. You’ve told me that at least a hundred times.

She had. When she’d first heard that Evan was running, she set to work finding someone to oppose him. Dozens of phone calls were made to potential rivals, but she’d come up empty. Baird had finally convinced her to go for it herself. She had the same qualifications as Evan, law degrees, experience at the government level, he at the public defender’s office’s office and she as an assistant district attorney, years of running a firm. They were both leaders in the community, and they thought she could edge him out with a more moderate message, a lifetime commitment to pro bono work and the women’s vote. That alone could put her over the top. By the looks of things, she had a good shot at winning. The win would come at a cost and she’d only begun to understand what it was. Limited freedom.

She got up from her resting place as soon as she heard the beep coming from the drive-way, collected her things and went down the stairs to the kitchen, the phone still attached to her ear, her brother singing the same old song.

After we know what this meeting is about, I think it’s time to let Saul get out the big guns.

There had been talk about leaking some unpleasant facts about Evan to the press. She’d declined to go there.

No. Absolutely no. I told you I won’t sink to that kind of campaign. If I can’t win on my merit, I don’t want the damn job.

You know if you continue to keep the lead, he probably will.

Until and if he does, I’m not going there.

If he does, it might be too late.

Her ire was up.

I said no. Leave it.

Hearing the sigh emitted, she also heard his acquiescence. Okay. We’ll do it your way.

Damn right we will.

She’d always been forceful in her opinion, even as kids, but he was no slouch and she was glad he backed off without the argument she thought would ensue.

I’ve got to go. My car’s here.

Call me.

I will.

As she walked down the pavers, around the curve to her driveway, she saw the driver was

waiting, door open. As she got closer, she could feel the cool air coming from the interior as the air conditioner worked noiselessly to counteract the heat.

Good morning, Carl. It’s good to see you, although I thought we might get the day off.

Carl had become one of her regular drivers but they’d both been going non-stop for weeks.

I would have been upset if they’d called someone else. What’s up? I thought you were in for a couple of days.

As did I. The governor changed my plans.

Any idea why?

No, and it’s worrying me but don’t let Baird know.

It’ll be our little secret.

Once she was in, he closed her door, slid behind the wheel, and drove down the drive-way.

Traffic would be at a standstill this time of morning, commuters out on the roads in droves, so she’d given them more than an hour to travel the Mass Pike. She hoped it wouldn’t take longer. She did not want to be late.

As she watched the passing scenery, her thoughts turned to the most recent leg of the race. Thousands had come out to hear her speak and she’d somehow become branded as a cog in the squeaky wheel of resistance. Would whatever Barker had to say have an adverse effect on her flourishing campaign?

She wasn’t surprised at Carl’s quiet competency. Despite the snarling traffic that had preceded them all the way into the city, they arrived with a few minutes to spare, but as the car pulled up to the building she was spooked. The local media was out in full press. Something big was going on, and she wished she knew what the hell she was facing. The photographers and reporters were standing as a throng in front of the gold-domed edifice where the governor had his office. Massachusetts didn’t have a governor’s mansion, only one of five states that had opted out. The original patriots didn’t want to treat any man as royalty, and back then being male was the only pre-requisite.

Carl opened her door and she told him, I’ll text when I’m ready to leave.

I’ll be waiting.

As she stepped out, bulbs flashed, and microphones were thrust into her face.

She’d gotten used to this, almost.

Ms Woodley, do you know why you’re here?

Mark Snyder, a reporter from Channel Four News, was the one who’d asked. A good-looking millennial, with sandy-brown hair and a nose for a scoop, she’d given him a one-on-one the day after she announced. They had gotten to know each other well over the last four months and she was able to turn the question back at him.

I don’t. Do you?

She flashed a smile, confident that no one could tell it was fake. She’d gotten good at this game. And it had become a game, one that had to be played with finesse and patience. Used to crowds, always the one out in public networking for the firm, she loved mingling with people, finding out what made them tick, how they could help her advance her causes. She could raise money with the best of them and she’d done her fair share of campaigning for many of the Democrats now serving in both the Senate and House. Congressman Adams was one of her pet projects, now more than ever, with one of her partners, Nell Warren married to him. The wedding had taken place just last week at the house in Nahant, with her officiating. She was doing that a lot lately. Next up was Em and she had a feeling Jelani wasn’t too far behind. Now that they’d found men who could hold their own with them, they were prioritizing their lives accordingly. No more fourteen-hour days, no more dinners out or drinks after work. She was going to have to find ways to fill the void if this governor thing didn’t pan out.

The questions kept coming but her focus was no longer on the men and women trying to do their jobs but on the car that pulled in behind them. When Evan Cox got out from the back seat of a limo, she felt her smile fade.

What the hell was he doing here?

And why did she still feel the delicious heat of attraction? He’d hurt her. Badly. Had knocked her confidence right out of her with a sucker punch that took years to heal.

She couldn’t for the life of her disregard his presence. He was dressed in an expensive suit, his hair brushed off his face and falling neatly to his collar, his brown eyes a warm kind of chestnut that were looking at her with what could be affection. She knew that couldn’t be right. That had seeped out of his eyes and their relationship more than two decades ago.

He walked over to where she stood, leaving her speechless.

It’s good to see you, Ri.

A ripple of something she hadn’t felt in years snaked up her spine. Why had he called her that? It was the term of endearment he’d used since they were in high school. No one, but him had ever called her that. No one ever would again.

She could barely get out the word, Evan.

The reporters were going wild now, asking all kinds of questions that both candidates were ignoring, making the melee even more frantic.

Shall we see what Governor Barker wants to talk to us about?

He called you in, as well?

He did. It seems he failed to advise either one of us as to what to expect.

As he helped part the way for them, she felt his overwhelming presence. There was always an electric jolt that thrummed whenever he was around. She’d moved mountains not to be in the same city with him during the campaign and had gone over his schedule with more of a fine-tooth comb than her own. She knew she was going to face him in the three debates lined up come fall but didn’t want to be anywhere close until then. He could still do strange things to her equilibrium. Not as handsome as some men she’d dated, he had an indefinable quality about him that had never failed to arouse something in her. Maybe it was their past, the good days when they were inseparable. In high school and then college and then…married right after law school. It’d lasted less than a year. And had almost broken her.

She dipped her head and snuck a look at him. He caught her in the act and tilted his brow, passing her a vaguely sensuous message. Almost tripping on the concrete steps, she felt his hand steady her. This was not the time for her composure to slip away. How could he still have this kind of power over her?

Maybe it was because he was still single. It screamed unfair. Why hadn’t he remarried? Wasn’t that why she’d been willing to give him up? He was hell bent on family, kids, which meant a new life without her. When he’d packed his things and left her standing in the ruins, she was unable to do anything but watch him go. Why was the pain of that day still so invasive? Why could the thin thread of remembrance still strangle her heart? She’d moved on, created a new purpose for herself, and had done well. Now she was poised to take over the governorship of the state, taking something he wanted away from him. It had been her motive since day one. It hadn’t hurt that he was spouting the party line. No way was she willing to have him take the city she loved back to the 1950s, something the current administration was hell-bent on doing. Civil and reproductive rights, immigration, sanctuary cities, all sacred to her.

She didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel, but she had to keep her wits about her. She made it through security and headed down the marble hallways to the elevator.

Evan was right there with her and she fought hard to still the inner trembling.

They entered the office and were led to a waiting area, where they each took a seat on opposite sides of the room. Breathing in some confidence, she held herself in check. Evan was not going to throw her off. She wouldn’t allow it.

By the time Governor Barker opened his door and came out to greet them, she was back in control. She stood when he appeared, remained motionless when he came over to shake hands with her before doing the same with Evan.

Thank you both for coming. I thought it was better to tell you what I want to say in person rather than on the phone. If you’ll both step inside, we can get to it.

Arianna felt the light touch of Evan’s hand on her back as she preceded him in. She increased her pace to outdistance it. She didn’t need any distractions and he was a big one.

Barker pointed to the two chairs that faced his desk.

Please, have a seat.

Arianna smoothed her dress out with her hand and sat, settling back and crossing her legs. She placed her hands on her lap and sat poised for what was to come. She was getting a bad vibe and she was bracing for a bombshell.

Evan was seated beside her, his leg over his knee, seemingly calm and unawares of what might be happening here. She didn’t understand it. He could read a room as well as she could. Couldn’t he feel the tension, or did he already know what the meeting was about?

Barker’s expression was in stark contrast to his easy manner. His hands were folded on the desk as he leaned in to talk to them.

I have to say I’ve been impressed with your campaign style. It’s been a clean fight and it’s been refreshing.

Evan answered in a level voice, If you know anything about Arianna, you know there’d be no mud for me to sling.

Barker leaned back in his chair, and it tilted from his weight. His hands were steepled as if he was in thought.

From what I understand, you two have known each other since you were kids. There had to be something you could have used. No one’s perfect.

If I had to go back to high school, it would have shown I was desperate and I’m not. I have a lucrative career to go back to if I lose my bid.

She glanced over. He did seem fine with a potential loss. Maybe he didn’t want it as much as she thought he did.

After turning her eyes back to the governor, she said, And I had no need to. I’ve got a stride going and it would have only taken focus away from the issues.

When he pursed his lips, she could tell that Barker was impatient to get this over with. And she was right.

I won’t waste any more of our time. Let me get right to the point.

She noticed Evan wasn’t as relaxed as she’d originally thought. The slight tic in his eye told her he was as unnerved by the audience as she was.

Barker cleared his throat.

After long consideration, after attending several meetings with the current administration, I’ve resigned from the post offered by the sitting president and I’ll be staying in the role of governor. As I’ve been working in that capacity, in parallel with my official duties, and haven’t officially given my notice, this decision won’t impact my standing. All I can say at this point is that I’m sorry. You’ve both waged a great campaign, worked hard, crisscrossed the state, but I finally admitted to myself the move isn’t in my best interest.

CHAPTER TWO

Evan heard Arianna’s gasp. He almost barked out a laugh at what a fucking joke the last seven months had just become. All those meetings with his backers, men he’d come to detest, for nothing. All the money funneled into his campaign could buy a small country, or maybe a big one, and they might as well have flushed it down the drain. He wished they had.

A sense of relief washed over him. He’d come to realize that the president was peddling a crock of shit and he was ashamed of the way he was re-selling it. He was one of the few who’d held back his opinion when the election results were announced last November. He thought maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as everyone predicted. Change might have been good. Politicians had become lifelong members of their own aristocracy and needed a swift kick to wake them out of their petty self-interest, but he’d been wrong. The man was nothing more than a mob boss, who broke laws on a whim, belittled the intelligence community with impunity, and twisted every promise he’d made to the populace into a pretzel. Evan had concluded that whatever the president promoted was bad for the country. He’d seen immigration torn at the seams, gun laws protected because of the NRA and all the money they’d filtered into the Republican coffers, civil rights were being turned on their head with white supremacists being given a thumbs-up while Black Lives Matter a thumbs-down, consumer protections would no longer exist at the rate they were going, and pulling out of the Paris climate agreement had been an ill-conceived decision, bad for future generations.

But he was locked in to his message, put together for him by the men who paid his bills, and he couldn’t have flipped no matter how much he wanted to, not without losing his funding or making it seem like he was just another wanna-be spitting where the wind blew. He should have just quit when the light dawned, when he lost some of his self-respect, but he wanted the connection with Arianna. Not that they were ever in the same place at the same time. She made sure they weren’t. At least it looked that way. There’d been a weekend when they were both scheduled to attend a dinner out in the western part of the state, a meet-and-greet, get-to-know-the-candidates event. She’d pulled out at the last second, citing a prior commitment. He knew it had more to do with not wanting to be in the same room with him. But being on opposite sides of the aisle, it was part of his job to watch her interviews, hear her sound bites, talk about her. He made sure he was always courteous when he did, never denigrating her in any way. His supporters wanted him to, wanted him to dig up dirt on her, but he refused, told them that they’d have to scramble for another candidate if they wanted to go that route. He’d hurt her enough and those days were gone. Long dead.

For him, the hurt was alive and well. For what he’d done to her, what he’d done to them.

He glanced over, took her in, wanting to see her reaction now that the shock might have dissipated. When she began tapping her foot, he wondered whether she was annoyed or curious? She answered without his asking.

Why the hell did you even consider it to begin with?

Curious.

He waited to see what Barker’s response would be. The governor rubbed his lips with his finger, as he met Arianna’s eyes. After standing, he pulled his money clip out of his pocket, and peeled away two one-dollar bills.

You are both attorneys. If I retain you with this small deposit, I can assume you will honor your fiduciary duty?

He placed one bill in front of each of them.

Evan nodded his head and heard Arianna say, Yes. Of course.

Barker was getting ready to tell them the truth and wanted it to remain in the room with the three of them.

Instead of sitting back down, the governor went to the window, looked out before turning back toward them.

When the offer came, I had a lot of my advisers telling me I couldn’t turn it down. They gave salient points as to how I could help the country, be one of the men holding the line of the law. I made the decision thinking I could counterbalance some of the idiot’s more insidious ideas. Over the last couple of months, I realized I couldn’t be part of that circus, not even for my country. I’m one of the few who disagree with him openly, hold our state to a higher code of honor. I know either one of you would have done the same, but I want to continue to be a thorn in his side.

Evan smiled at the veracity of the statement. He’d come to think of this administration in the same term: circus. He watched Arianna place a fist over her mouth. Now she was annoyed, and she was trying to keep in whatever was fighting to come out. It won. With a flippant tone, she asked, How can you say either one of us would pick up where you left off? Have you not heard one word out of this man’s mouth?

He should have been stunned at her outburst, but he knew her too well. He waited to see what Barker would say in response before he added his two cents.

I have but I think that he’s had a change of heart since he announced his decision to run. Boston’s his home. He wouldn’t have let it down.

She shifted in her chair to take him in, as if she’d missed something of great importance.

Has he? And are you sure about that? The man talks a good game but when the chips are down, he walks away.

He could have taken anything she said but that. Because she was right. He did, and he had.

Walked away from her after promising to love and cherish her in good times and in bad. He couldn’t accept the bad, not the kind of bad that had been delivered. If he’d only known then what he knew now, he never would have done it. She had no idea how much guilt and shame he lived with over it. And regret. The regret was like a tidal wave that had almost