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I pulled up my text app and shot Jack off a message.
Going to the mansion. Villa 2. O’Neils. Old money in their 70s. If you tell me they’re into kinky sex games I’m quitting and moving to Alaska.
What’s wrong with kinky sex games?
Before I could respond a second message came through.
And Alaska? I hear Idaho’s better.
I’m ignoring you.
You’re actually not. You’re thinking about moving to Idaho and fighting for your man.
Damn if he wasn’t right.
I shoved my phone back into my bra, studiously avoiding my reflection and Wilson’s mark.
After that, I went back to work.
* * *
Eight hours later I was on my couch staring out the window, with my knees curled up to my chest, unseeing. The lights of Strat were nothing more than a blur. My body hurt—from my feet to my head.
But my heart ached.
Wilson hadn’t called.
I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. And I was too tired to figure out if I was happy he was giving me space or if his silence was contributing to the constant pain in my chest.
I had tomorrow off. Martin was gone, the Osborns were checking out in the morning, and the O’Neils had been sweet when they explained it was not personal but they requested Isabella who had been their host for years to take over for me. I’d take the day, stay in my jammies, and figure out my next move.
I’d also call Gram.
No. I couldn’t talk to her without explaining Wilson’s personal business. Besides, I knew what she’d tell me.
Big girl britches, Atlee. Don’t delay fixing what needs to be fixed.
Gram didn’t believe in procrastination. She believed in facing issues head-on. But Wilson wasn’t an issue; he was a man with a stockpile of guilt and grief.
Had I found my father? A man paralyzed by the past?
My hand went to my stomach to stop the butterflies.
With calling my grandmother not an option, I thought about Diana’s offer to visit. I needed to talk to someone. Luci was a straight shooter. Diana a soft touch when she wasn’t in front of the cameras. Both women were smart and logical.
I could take a week off of work and go to Montana.
Yes. That was what I needed. A week away, let the dust settle, the hurt recede, then I’d talk to Wilson.
Clear heads would prevail and we’d talk.
With a plan in place I closed my eyes.
As it turned out I should’ve called my grandmother instead of falling asleep. I should’ve heeded the advice she’d given me over the years and not procrastinated. I should’ve done a lot of things differently. But mostly I should’ve called Wilson.
But I didn’t.
And that proved to be a fatal error.
