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She beamed all night. It was hard leaving her. Especially knowing we realistically won’t see each other until summer. I could fly out there whenever, but the last thing I want to do is interrupt her education.
For the last month, we’ve texted daily. Called when we can. It’s never enough, but it was at least enough to feel connected. We have been finalizing plans for a weekend getaway in about two weeks before she has to sequester herself for studying for finals.
But now?
Radio silence.
Checking my phone, I grit my teeth. Still no reply.
I wrote to her this morning, something generic about what book we should start next. I figure it’s best to go back to the beginning when something isn’t working right.
I know she’s probably just busy, but I can’t shake the feeling something more is wrong. If she found someone else, I will be devastated. I’ve run through all the worst-case scenarios and I’m pretty sure I won’t handle any of them well.
If she’s made a decision about me and it’s not a decision I agree with, I don’t think I can step aside and let her be with someone else.
“Are the files for the Rodriguez project done?” Gwen pops her head in, probably just as eager to wrap up this project as I am.
My phone dings and I scramble to check it. “Yes, Gerald just wrote back. I’ll print them myself, though.”
Gwen shrugs and grabs the file for our next big project off my desk. “Suit yourself.”
Printing the plans myself means giving me a chance to walk past Elijah’s office. Not that I truly need an excuse, but I’ve never felt this raw and vulnerable. His sister has me so shaken these past few weeks that I don’t know up from down.
His door’s open so I breeze in, doing a damn fine job of acting like nothing’s wrong.
“Ben.” He looks up, startled, and scrambles to flip his phone over.
“Hot date?”
He shakes his head and then stills. “Uh—no—I mean, yes. You caught me.” A sheepish smile plays across his face. One that I know all too well. It’s the same ridiculous face he makes when we’re playing poker and he’s hiding a good hand.
“So it was Phoebe?”
His cheeks redden and he sighs. “What’s up Ben?”
“She hasn’t written me back. We were talking every day and then—nothing.” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice, but Elijah doesn’t give me crap for it.
“She’s busy with finals and stuff. I’m sure she’ll get back to you when she can.”
But he doesn’t meet my eyes when he says this. He shuffles papers on his desk and acts like whatever report he’s reading is so engrossing he can’t tear his eyes away.
“I wouldn’t do this to her,” I mutter, backing out of his office.
He looks up for one fleeting second, and I can’t read his expression.
“That’s the face you should use when we’re playing Texas Hold ‘Em.”
“What?” His brows furrow and he studies me curiously.
“Nothing.”
I stalk to the printer, ready to pull out the final plans and put a wrap on this project.
Instead of a fresh stack of papers waiting for me in the tray, there’s a glaring red error message flashing on the screen.
“Thanks for your patience, Ben.” Ronan Bay, the head honcho at our printer company, Outpost, has taken my case on directly.
It’s why we love this company and have stuck with them despite leaving their service area in San Francisco.
