And I’m homesick.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Harrison
Seven a.m., I’ll wait until then, and not a minute later. Delaney needs her rest, but if I don’t see her soon, I’m going to lose what little remains of my mind after a sleepless night on the coattails of my argument with Delaney.
I glance down at my watch. How is it only six forty-one a.m.? It feels like forever since I last checked the time, but it’s only been three minutes.
I startle when my doorbell rings. Whoever’s on my front porch will have to deal with me leaving here in nineteen minutes and not a second later.
When I get to the door and pull it open, the woman I love stands in front of me. She’s beautiful, but her puffy, red eyes betray that she’s been crying. I want to pull her into my arms, but I’m not sure if that’s okay. I misplayed everything so badly yesterday that I’m hesitant to move or speak.
She clears her throat. “Hi… I um… I’m sor?—”
Fuck it. I reach for her and pull her into my embrace. She practically melts into me, and I can’t hold her tight enough.
“I’m so sorry,” I speak the words into her hair, not willing to pull back from her even an inch. “You were right. I was arrogant at my office yesterday. I promise, though, that I was only trying to take care of you when I raised your salary. I’ve fixed it, by the way.”
“Can we table talking about it right now? Maybe not even today. I know we need to, but can it wait?”
“Sure,” I whisper. I kiss the top of her head. “I love you, Bets. I hope you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”
“I love you, too.”
Two hours later, we walk into work together. My morning schedule is pretty light, but Henry and I have to run to Elladine in the afternoon to meet with a potential client.
I keep the privacy blinds on the glass wall at the front of my office open, so I can see Delaney’s desk without hovering. However, I do that, too, only not as much as I would if I didn’t have her in my line of vision all day.
I peek at her often, and each time I find an excuse to go out and check on Delaney, she’s all right. Quiet, though. Holden must’ve noticed because he’s been at her desk a few times already today, and it doesn’t even annoy me. I assume he’s trying to make her laugh or smile, and that’s all I want.
I pick up the phone and call Mark Whittaker’s office. After a few transfers, I get him.
“Hey, Harrison, to what do I owe this pleasure?” he chuckles. He knows damn well why I’m calling.
“Hi, Mark. I wanted to check on the progress of?—”
“Yes, I know. You want to know the status of all the inspections of the new building. Like every other time you’ve called for the last two weeks.”
“Hey, we’ve already delayed the grand opening by a few weeks to make this happen. Our guys have held up their end by getting the construction done in record time.”
“Why is this so important to you?” he asks.
I hesitate. Screw it.
“Because it matters to someone I care about. Plus, it’s the right thing to do. The new memory care unit should be the best in dementia care this side of the country.”
“Okay. I’ll try to up the sense of urgency. Oh, and I emailed the NDA over for the guy I added on my end.” He laughs out loud. “You’re the only person I know who has ever required an NDA for work on a nursing home.”
“It’s working, though, right? No one has leaked details about the changes in design.”
“No, you’re correct. They’re scared to, with the threats you built into that thing. Hey, listen, I gotta run. My hotcake is texting me.”
I shouldn’t ask. It’s not wise.
“Who is your hotcake?” The words slip out of my mouth unwelcome.
“Ruthie, of course.” I cringe at the thought of them having pet names. “I still owe you big for vouching for me and convincing her to call me a few weeks ago. Even if it was to butter me up about this project.”
