I’m furious about his choices, but I can acknowledge the truth in his sentiment. If this was someone I hadn’t known for the last eighteen or so years, these exchanges could be a lot worse and definitely more dangerous.
I grasp his forearm a little tighter, letting him know I appreciate what he’s doing for me. Or more importantly, what he’s not doingtome. “I know, Marcus. I am, too.”
33
Nate
Igave her a day.
One day.
That’s all I can handle. It was a struggle not to go to her and demand we work through me being an idiot. But I knew that wasn’t what she needed. My sisters were right. I wanted to give her some time. But I’m worried about her. I can’t imagine how she’s holding everything together as well as she is. I need her to understand she doesn’t have to anymore. I’m here and ready to support her in whatever is going on in her life.
Now, I have to get her to talk to me. And then, also forgive me.
I swipe my phone off the table. Scrolling through my contact list, I selected Olive’s name.
It rings. And rings.
“Hi, this is Olive.Please leave?—”
I disconnect and pull up our text string.
Me: Please call me. I want to talk to you about the other day. I want to make this right.
I would like to talk to her before our flight in a couple of hours, so hopefully, I’ll hear back from her soon. Sitting down at the table with my laptop, I try to work, answering emails and reviewing some new contracts Jack sent over, all the while checking my phone every few minutes. I dig my fingers into my eyes, trying to rub the distracted thoughts.
When it’s finally time, I pack my suitcase and roll it over to the door. Wandering back into the room to make sure I didn’t miss anything while packing, I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare down at it.
No notifications.
I hesitate.
There aren’t many times I second-guess myself. That’s something most of the guys I work with pride themselves on. It’s a byproduct of our professional backgrounds. But right now, I’m at a loss about what to do. What I really want to do is go to Olive’s room and demand that she open up to me and let me in. But logically, I know that’s not the best option.
It's a balance between giving her the space she needs, but not enough where she thinks I don’t care anymore, which is the farthest thing from the truth.
Blowing out a breath, I grab the handle of my suitcase more aggressively than necessary, jerk my door open, and step into the hallway.
Waiting for the elevator, I connect the call one more time.
Ringing.
“Come on, pick up,” I mutter.
Ringing.
“Hi, this is Olive. Please leave?—”
A frustrated grunt leaves me as I enter the elevator.
When I step into the lobby, my eyes laser focus on Cade on the far side. I’m surprised Olive isn’t with him. We’ll need to leave as soon as Ian gets to the lobby with Jenny, which should be any minute. Maybe she’s already in the waiting SUVs outside.
I walk outside and hand my suitcase to the waiting driver. “Has anyone loaded yet?”
“No, sir. Not yet.”
A scowl presses my eyebrows together. Pivoting back to the lobby, I stalk inside, on a mission. Cade is staring down at his phone and doesn’t see my approach. “Cade.”
