I watched him put his keys and phone into his jean pockets, then layer on his jacket and scarf.
A few seconds after he left, I sat up and looked at the crumpled sheets next to me.
Charlie’s side of the bed.
The bed looked different than it had yesterday.
“Hold the elevator!”
I could hear the elevator doors heave back open.
“I thought that might be you,” Caroline’s cheerful voice chirped as the elevator closed again.
I covered my face with a pillow and waited for the texts I knew were coming.
I looked out the window just as Charlie crossed Perry Street in yesterday’s clothes. The morning light looked different. I felt like another person. Grown up and reckless at the same time.
So?????Caroline texted.
I smiled.Sober sex. What a mind fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Six
“The firm will arrange flights and ground transportation to and from Bozeman. If you have schedule conflicts, please email them to Lawyers Travel by the end of this week. The accommodations and retreat space are all on the same premises. Your room number will be provided when you check in. You’ll have the afternoon to acquaint yourself with the grounds, and the retreat will formally kick off with a cocktail hour at six o’clock, followed by a welcome dinner.”
I craned my neck to see if Charlie was there yet.
Regret prickled as I shifted in my seat. Why had I chosen the front row?
I scrolled through my emails and opened a message from Andie with the subject lineBook Launch.
The book was going to be released in the spring, but the publisher was planning an official prelaunch party for the first week of January. She’d asked the publicist to set aside two tickets for me.
Charlie texted as I was mid book-launch email.
Your hair looks great today.
I stared at my grown-up version of a folded note.
The next text was from Caroline.You owe me every possible detail lady!! p.s. he looked damn cute coming out of your apartment all disheveled
I squirmed again in my seat.
Can you do dinner tonight?I responded to Caroline.
We made plans to meet at Palma, an Italian restaurant on Cornelia Street.
The retreat session wrapped with a promotional video of the ranch just outside of Bozeman, Montana. It looked like a place where trouble found you.
I got up and tried casually walking toward the door while I looked around for Charlie. I didn’t see him until I got back to our office, packing a stack of manila folders into his shoulder bag.
“Hi,” I said softly, closing the door that we usually left open.
He looked up and smiled. “Hey.”
I motioned to the bag brimming with files. “Heading out?”
He nodded. “Last-minute hearing on the REIT injunction I’ve been working on. Almost missed the big payoff.”
