“I’m sure it won’t take long at all. Here, I’ll put my phone’s flashlight on.” Mira will understand. She won’t be happy if I miss her pitch, but once I explain, she’ll understand. And I know ifshe was here, she’d tell me to use my phone’s flashlight. Even if it does drain the battery. “Why don’t you sit down, Miss Kent?”
“Serena.” She huffs out a shaky laugh, but she does as I suggest and starts to lower herself to the floor. When her knees shake and she almost falls on her ass, I reach out and help her. “I hope to hell someone has cleaned this floor recently.”
It’s my turn to chuckle at that. “Something to talk to maintenance about after they get us out, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
We fall silent, and I rock on my heels to burn up some of the nervous energy coursing through my body. I want to get out of here. I can’t let Mira down.
Even though it’s probably pointless, I try texting her again. This time, I warn her that I may run out of battery life and that if I don’t make it to her pitch, to head to the coffee shop and meet me there. Of course, the message fails to send.
“Crap.”
“You okay?” Serena looks up at me. “Please don’t tell me you’re also claustrophobic.”
“No, it’s not that. I’m supposed to be meeting my wife in like fifteen minutes at the university campus, and I’m worried I won’t make it.” Restless energy has me running my hand through my hair.
“Your wife, huh? I didn’t realize you were married.” Serena sounds curious, and I kick myself for saying anything before we’ve gone public with our friends and family, but this is a marketing exec I’m talking to. They’ve just signed me on to represent their company. They won’t do anything to mess with my image or the relationship we just forged.
“Uh yeah, it’s not public knowledge yet, so I’d appreciate it if that didn’t leave this elevator.” I give her a smile that probably looks more like a grimace.
“Of course. Breakaway would never overstep like that.” The lights in the elevator flicker twice, then plunge us back into darkness. Serena shudders and closes her eyes. “Tell me about her. I need a distraction.”
So I do. For the next hour, I tell Breakaway Hockey’s head of marketing all about my wife. I tell her about her work, her sense of humor, the way she makes me feel like I can do anything. I pull the little black velvet box out of my pocket and show her the engagement ring I’m going to give to Mira today. Tell her about getting married in Vegas—leaving out the part about how we were drunk and I basically blackmailed my wife to stay married to me—and how I want to give Mira a real engagement and wedding. I talk until my phone dies and we’re encased in darkness, then I keep talking to keep both of us distracted and only stop when, finally, the lights turn back on and the elevator jolts to life.
When the doors open on the ground floor, I help Serena to her feet, and when she almost crumples to the ground after spending over an hour fighting off a panic attack, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and grip her elbow with my other hand and walk her to her toward the crowd of waiting people. A man with jet black hair and a furrowed brow shouts her name when he sees us, and then he sweeps her out of my arms and holds her close.
“Are you okay?” he asks her.
Serena nods. “Yeah, I’m good. Griffin here helped me fight off a panic attack.”
The dark-haired main turns my way and extends a hand, which I shake. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I was so worried. She is deathly afraid of being stuck in small spaces.”
Serena nods. “I’d rather walk up thirty flights of stairs than take an elevator ever again. You’re never getting me back in one of those things.”
When I chuckle, she turns to me with a scowl, but it quickly turns into a smile.
“Thank you, Griffin, really. I’m looking forward to working with you, and we’ll be in touch. Now, go find your wife.”
Shit. My wife. With a nod of my head and a grateful smile, I say my goodbyes and run to my rental car. My stomach sinks when I see the time.
Mira’s pitch started over an hour ago. By the time I make it to the campus, I’ll be more than an hour and a half late. I wish I had a charging cord with me so I could call her.
I drive as fast as I safely can to the campus. I check the arena first, but she’s not there. Then I check the coffee shop. No Mira. I drive around looking for her for another twenty minutes before the twisting feeling in my stomach starts to make me sick.
“Maybe she went back to the hotel.”
It’s the only other place she can be. She doesn’t have a car, but she could have ordered a ride. The need to find her is a prowling beast inside of me, scratching up my insides. What if something happened to her? I need to know that she’s okay. All I can think about is my sweet wife stuck outside in this weather, wondering where I am, scared, upset, alone. How did this day go so fucking wrong?
The ring box in my pocket urges me to drive faster, to get to her sooner. And when I finally pull up to the hotel and park, I run to the door, bypassing the elevators because there’s no way I’m risking being stuck in another one of those today, and race up to our room on the fourth floor.
Pushing through the door, I call for her. “Mira? Baby, are you here?”
I’m met with silence.
Shit.
My body feels hot and my skin too tight. I look for her in the bathroom, on the balcony, hell, I even look in the closet like a total idiot. And then I notice it.
