Chapter Thirty-five
JORDAN LAY INbed, clutching her phone in her hands. It was well past midnight, and the cottage was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made one make very stupid decisions.
She should’ve given her phone to Simon, told him that under no circumstances was she allowed to have it back for, oh, the next month. But like every heartbroken person, a little masochism lingered under her skin, and she couldn’t seem to stop waiting for Astrid’s name to pop onto her screen again.
The first call had come around nine p.m. Jordan was brushing her teeth and heard her phone buzzing on her nightstand, so naturally, she vaulted herself over the obstacle course of junk all over her bedroom floor—scaring the shit out of her poor cat in the process—and reached her phone just in time to see a missed call notification fromSemi-Decent Human Who Wants to Kiss You Again.
She stared at the screen, toothpaste dripping from her mouth and onto her shirt, waiting for a voice mail to ping into her mailbox.
It didn’t.
But Astrid did call again thirty minutes later.
This time, Jordan was ready for it. She’d been sitting at her desk, laptop open to her design program, but she only pretended to work on some ideas. Really, her mind was whirling, visualizing how she’d answer the phone calmly, and then tell Astrid in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want to talk to Astrid ever again.
It was a good plan.
But when her phone finally buzzed, Astrid’s name appearing, Jordan couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t answer the call. If she did... then what? She doubted she’d actually have the strength to tell the woman she was madly in love with to fuck off, and god knew what would happen to her already bruised heart if she listened to whatever Astrid wanted to say.
So, ignoring and denying was really the only way to go here.
Now, though, Jordan couldn’t slow her brain down enough to sleep. She couldn’t stop hoping Astrid would call again, pursue Jordan until Jordan couldn’t ignore or deny anything ever again.
But that wasn’t Astrid’s style.
Jordan knew that.
She rolled over, Catra purring happily and tucked against her chest, and resolved to think of other things. She had a reno to finish, a swanky magazine feature to prepare for, a possible career at a major design network on the horizon. She didn’t need Astrid. She didn’t need any sort of romance right now. It was too messy, too hard, and she’d just end up—
Her phone interrupted her thoughts.
She snatched it up, heart already halfway into her throat. So much for her steely resolve.
But it wasn’t Astrid.
It was Meredith.
Jordan sighed and pressed the phone against her forehead, the vibrations rattling her thoughts even more. Since Meredith’s life-exploding email to Natasha Rojas a week ago, she had called, texted, or emailed at least once a day. Lately, she’d taken to trying Jordan long past any normal time human beings spoke on the phone.
Jordan was tired of seeing her ex’s name on her screen... but she wasn’t angry. She knew she should be—Meredith had crossed every line in the book by contacting Natasha, but Jordan just didn’t have the energy to fan the emotion. In fact, she felt very little when it came to Meredith lately.
Before she could think better of it, she hit the green button.
“What?” she said.
“Jo? Oh my god, you actually answered.”
“Yeah, well, I figured best get this over with.”
Meredith sighed into the phone. “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize they’d cancel the show.”
“Been talking to Simon, have you?”
