Considering Phil’s run the Falls Inn for over thirty years and has never had any of his patrons have an incident, I’d say that’s a darn good track record.
My cell phone sits on the table in front of me, face-up, and I switch it to silent mode. When—rather, if—Desi calls me back, I’ll be able to see it.
But it’s already after six and he hasn’t called me back.
I flag Deanna down next time she passes. “You know, I think I’d like a Jack on the rocks. Double.”
She arches a carefully sculpted eyebrow at me. “You sure, Tom?”
I nod and force a smile. “Phil’s got my keys.”
She shrugs. “All right, sweetie. Sit tight. I’ll get it for you.”
I settle back in my chair as one of the other patrons, an older woman I’ve never seen before, gets up and does a damned good version of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide.” Sounds eerily like Stevie Nicks.
As I listen, I choke back my own tears because I sense I’m not getting a call back. I think I knew he wasn’t going to call back and I lied to myself.
I think it’s time I finally start mourning so I can move on with my life.
Tonight is that first step. Taking a deep breath, I reach over and turn my cell phone facedown. I go up and add a couple of numbers to my list because I feel like singing out my pain.
I need to accept reality.
I need to accept the facts. He’s not coming back.
Once I do that…then I can deal with my own emotional landslide.
Chapter Eight
Desi
Excitement fills me as I verify my ideas with more research at the county courthouse in Webley. Once they close, I race back to my hotel room to start working on compiling all the forms and filings I’ll need to make it happen.
And then I lose track of time. It’s nearly eight and almost dark when it finally smacks me that I never called Tomas back.
Dammit!
I immediately call him but it goes to his voice mail. “Listen, I need to talk to you. I’m sorry I got delayed. Please, call me back as soon as you get this.”
Screw waiting, though. I’d planned to show up at his door instead of calling him back, but that was before I got ass-deep into what I was doing and stupidly missed that opportunity. I grab my phone chargers, my laptop and tablet, make sure I have the rings, and race out the door without even changing out of my suit.
I want to say everything to him in person. I want to stand in front of him, where he can’t hang up on me or not look me in the eyes when I apologize, admit how wrong I was, and beg for another chance with him. I want to talk to him, drop to my knees, and grovel.
I can only hope it’s not too late for that.
A mix of disappointment and relief hit me when I pull up in front of his house and find his driveway’s empty. It doesn’t mean he’s not involved with someone else, but a guy can irrationally dream, right?
Jumping out, I race up to the door and knock, just in case, but the house is dark and no one answers.
So I try calling him again. This time when his voice mail picks up, I hang up.
In the window next to the front door, the curtains move and I see Jester’s face poke through. Choking back a sob, I laugh and walk over to touch the glass.
“Hey, buddy. How are you? Long time, no see.”
His muffledmaowas he sniffs at the glass where my finger is makes me laugh again. I’ve missed this little guy, too. I remember the day we adopted him from the shelter up in Colley. As much as I hated saying good-bye to him, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to take him with me. I wanted Tom to have him, and I knew Tom would have far more time to spend with him.
Plus, I didn’t have time for any pets the past couple of years. It wouldn’t have been fair to them to leave them alone for so long, or constantly arrange for boarding or pet sitters.
