“Goodbye.”
I end the call.
My eyes fall closed in the bliss of a workday well done. There’s nothing like it.
I grin.
Except for the bliss of a night well done with Holt.
A laugh escapes my throat as I think about how stupid that is. Yet it’s true.
My phone rings from beside me. I pick it up and look at the caller ID.
Sienna.
“Hey,” I say, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“Well, don’t you sound chipper.”
I shrug. “I’ve had a good day.”
“And …?” she prods.
“Well, I slept in. Had a great cup of coffee followed by a long, hot shower.” I hold back a laugh about how much I needed said shower. “Then I worked all day by a gorgeous pool and listened to the birds chirp, and I got a ton of stuff done. It’s been a good day.”
“Better,” she says. “But you left out all the Holt stuff.”
I shift in my chair. “I actually haven’t seen him since about three this morning. I’m guessing he’s been at work.”
“So this happiness is residual. This is a good sign, Blaire.”
Is it?
Of course being happy is a good thing. It’s much better than the alternative. But is being happy in this situation truly a good thing?
I don’t know.
“I don’t know about it being a good sign,” I say. “But it feels nice not to feel like the world is sitting on my shoulders for once.”
“That’s how I feel with Walker.”
I snort. “He could barely write checks to pay his bills before you came along.”
“Well, I do it for him now, so he still can’t do that,” she admits with a laugh. “But being around him makes me feel safe. I can mess up—you do remember how I met him, right?”
I laugh as I remember Lance explaining how Sienna damaged Walker’s truck. “I do.”
“So, yeah, you get it. You know what I mean.”
I think about my time with Holt, and I do kind of get what she means. If I feel anything around Holt, it’s … that. Confident enough to be myself. To speak my mind. To share my wounds.
To be me.
Still, I don’t know if it’s a good thing.
“When are you coming home?” she asks.
“I just got off the phone with Yancy. She said my building should be opened by the end of the week.”
