He walks over to a charger by the kitchen island and plugs it in. When it powers on, he glances at the screen and lifts an eyebrow. “You have so many fucking emails.” He tosses me my phone.
I groan, and he laughs.
Then, he comes to my side and slips an arm around my waist.
I groan again as I note the thread of emails, messages, and missed calls on the screen of my phone.
“Are you mad?” he asks softly.
“No.” I look up at him. “I needed the break. Even if I didn’t admit it.”
He nods and kisses me again. It’s softer this time. Sweeter. “I need to help my sisters and Joe set up for the party. But I’ll come by to scoop you up around three p.m. Does that work?”
“You don’t have to come back up. I’ll meet you on the beach,” I say, shaking my phone at him. “It will give me some time to make a dent in the emails flooding my inbox.”
“Don’t stress, Calla Lily. Take it one message at a time.”
“Yeah,” I say, even though I feel my anxiety rising. As much as I know I need to have more of a work-life balance, it’s hard to achieve when the nature of my work is as fast-paced and intense as it is. When so much money and the careers of my clients are on the line.
“I’m serious, Cal,” Gage says, palming my ass and giving it an appreciative squeeze. “There’s fresh coffee. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“See you,” I say, my eyes already glued to the emails.
Once Gage leaves, I sit down at the kitchen island, open my laptop, and set to work. The first hour flies by and my nerves begin to settle. I catch up on paperwork, check in with two clients, and scan through new endorsement possibilities for one of my soccer players.
But as the second hour starts, my inbox dings with a new email from Grayson Watches.
My eyes scan the lines of text rapidly and my heart sinks.
“Shit.” I shake my head. The deal’s off the table. We didn’t respond and, in our silence, Grayson Watches, perhaps correctly, assumed that Gage is retiring. Now, the endorsement offer has been pulled. “Damn,” I whisper, dropping my head into my hand.
How am I going to tell him? What am I going to tell him?
A few nights of dreaming of a future and falling into his bed and I lost my client—Gage of all people—one of his top endorsement deals, with a company he always desired to work with.
Disappointment sweeps through me, quickly followed by shame and guilt. They churn in my stomach, making me feel nauseous.
This is why I don’t mix business with pleasure. This is why I don’t date my clients.
But Gage isn’t just a client. He hasn’t been for a long, long time. I just didn’t want to admit it. How could I? I’m a professional.
And Gage is…well, he’s everything.
I sigh. On the periphery of my shame, nerves begin to dance.
What will he say when I break the news to him? Will he be angry? Disappointed? Annoyed?
My phone chimes with a text, and I groan, smacking my hand against the edge of the tabletop.
I reach for my phone and then snort, my anger fading.
It’s a bunch of the Boston Hawks Hockey girls. I snicker at the photos Vivi, Declan Yaeger’s wife, sends through from the night before. The women are up on a stage, singing karaoke for Chloe’s bachelorette party. She’s marrying Boston Hawks team captain, Austin Merrick, in a few weeks.
My phone rings a second later and when I note Vivi’s name, I relax.
“Genevieve Yaeger, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I answer.
She laughs, loud and boisterous, exuding warmth. “Callie, I have a gaggle of small children and a new shelter opening. I haven’t slept in five years.”
