I hold out the flowers. “Surprise?”
She regains her composure, but her voice is anything but sweet.
“You can’t just come in here and—”
“So this isAusten,” the man says, his voice smooth like Italian leather. His accent isn’t thick, but refined.
He must be the designer Savannah’s been working with.
He stands, walking over to me with a grin, looking down his nose at me. “Flowers? How pedestrian.” He turns to Savannah. “We will discuss the plan for California at another time.” His voice makes me feel strangely sick. When he turns back to me, he says, “Lovely to finally meet you, Austen.” With that he walks out the door, leaving me and my wife alone.
“I can not believe you,” she hisses. I set the flowers on her desk.
“Happy Birthday,” I grit out.
“You cannot just barge in here and demand my attention, I am working, I—”
“I know. You work until five.”
“You are not supposed to be here!” she bites.
Her words are bitter. She doesn’t want me here, that’s clear.
“I got us tickets to see Cirque,” I say, anger swelling in me. ”After you are done.”
“I can’t see Cirque!” she bellows. “I have to work! We’re pulling all the extra hours right now and—”
“Oh, I see,” I say bitterly. “You know what, then, fine. Work. I’ll see the show myself.”
I turn on my heel and push the door open so hard, it slams against the wall. I need to get out of here, before I say something I’ll regret.
Because I’m clearly not in my right mind today.
She says something, but I block it out.
I have to, because the storm inside my gut threatens to swallow me whole. I don’t look behind me as I make my way to the elevator, don’t slow down as I walk out of the building. She doesn’t come after me. But I guess I don’t expect her to.
My phone goes off in my pocket, and I pick it up, a part of me hoping that maybe it’s her, and she wants to apologize. That she’s changed her mind and will come to the show with me. That she wants to celebrate her birthday with me, her husband.
But it’s not.
Instead, I see three letters, like a lifeline, shining back at me.
Hey.
Somehow it’s like he just… knows.
I don’t bother texting. I call him instead.
“Hey. You have plans tonight?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Cameron
I set my suitcase by the bed then lie down on my back, opening up my phone to browse meaningless posts.
I’m in California once again for a job. Austen is back home. It’s weird being so far away from him after spending so much time together in New York. He ended up staying longer than he planned, which he said was because he was looking at buildings but something tells me that isn’t the whole truth. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking because I want my best friend to miss me. Hanging out with him has really screwed me up because I remember all too easily why I was so in love with him all those years ago, and that maybe… maybe I never stopped. It’s hard to explain, but it’s just something that’s there. An affection for himlike nothing else. Being around him makes me feel good, and I just… I don’t know. I wish life didn’t have to be so complicated.
