Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I take the less traveled back stairwell up to the fourth floor to put away my things.
I almost didn’t show up for work today. The thought of seeing Gannon after Friday night was nearly more than I could take. While I’m not embarrassed, really—because I meant every word that I think I said—I’m anxious. What if I said things I don’t remember? What if he walked away from my house on Saturday morning thinking I was some kind of freak? What if he has nothing to say to me, and that makes it even weirder?
If I’d heard from Margot or one of her contacts by this morning, I would’ve texted Tate and not shown up. But I didn’t.
I tiptoe down the hallway to the maintenance closet. I slip inside, ignoring the table where I sat and taunted Gannon only a few days ago, and place my tools in their containers. Before I turn back around, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Aurora.
Shit.
I heave a breath as regret fills me. I should’ve called to check on her.
Aurora: Hi, Carys. It’s Aurora. Your father’s birthday is next week, and I thought about making reservations downtown. I’d love for you to join us. No pressure.
I groan as I read her words.
Me: Hey! Thanks for the invite. I need to check my calendar when I get home. Also, how are you feeling?
I consider adding that I know I should’ve reached out to her after they left for Urgent Care but erase it before I hit send. There’s no sense in drawing attention to my failure and making it weird for both of us.
Aurora: Better. Thanks for asking. I just have some bruising but nothing serious.
Me: I’m glad to hear that.
Aurora: Let me know if you can make it next week. We’d really love to see you.
“I bet,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Me: I’ll try to make it work.
Aurora: Great! Talk soon.
I stare at our conversation long after it’s ended. How is a woman like her with a man like my dad? How was my mother with him? What’s the draw?
“Things I’ll never know,” I say, reaching for the door handle. I don’t quite make it before my phone rings. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I check the Caller ID. Brewer Group.
“Weird.” I accept the call. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Carys?” a woman asks.
“Yes.”
“Great. Hi, Carys. This is Kylie, Mr. Brewer’s assistant.”
I slump against the counter. “Hi, Kylie. What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Brewer wanted me to check and see if you’re still in the building.”
“I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Oh, okay. Well, he’d like you to stop by his office on your way out.”
I squeeze my eyes closed and stifle another groan. “Do you know if it can wait until Wednesday? I have another appointment to get to.”
“He thought that might be the case.” I bet he did. “He said to tell you there’s an ivy incident in his office. Apparently, it’s going to die if you don’t run up there and diagnose the problem.”
You’ve got to be joking. The fucker doesn’t even have an ivy. I sigh in frustration … but also with amusement. I can imagine Gannon concocting this storyline and feeding it to Kylie. It’s such a Gannon thing to do to get what he wants at all costs. But it’s also so un-Gannon-like. He doesn’t involve himself with such trivialness.
I grin. “Could you tell him that ivy plants are my least favorite, and I don’t care if it dies?”
There’s a lengthy pause.
“I really don’t want to do that, Carys.”
“I’m kidding.” I laugh at her hasty exhale. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and blow out a breath.
My mind goes into overdrive, trying to determine why he wants to see me. The options are endless, really, and trying to predict what Gannon is doing or thinking is futile. Or why he waited all day to summon me. Or why he had Kylie call me and not do it himself.
“Damn you,” I mutter, pulling a compact out of my purse. I give myself a quick once-over, straightening my hair and applying a quick coat of gloss to my lips.
I shove my phone into my purse but pull it out when it buzzes immediately.
Mom: Did you get your life insurance form? It should’ve been emailed to you.
Me: I haven’t seen it yet.
Mom: Those bastards. I’m going to make some calls because no one we’ve signed up has gotten theirs.
Me: Okay, that’s great. I’m going into an important meeting, so I’ll check later this afternoon.
Mom: Let me know.
“I’ll be sure to do that.” I turn my phone off and stick it back into my purse. “Later.”
I grab my purse and gather myself before leaving the safety of the closet. The elevator is around the corner, and I get there far too quickly.