The only person I can think of who might have sent these is Olivia. We were on the phone earlier and she could tell how tired I am. Unfortunately, she assumed it was because of last night’s date. I had to do some fast talking to make sure she knew it wasn’t. Of course, that meant I had to come up with the reason why I hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Or any.
I lied.
Told my best friend the biggest lie, then received the biggest lecture about calling her next time my car broke down in the middle of the night instead of waiting for some random tow-truck driver to rescue me.
I hated lying. But there was no way I want her to know who actually rescued me. Or that I spent the night being ravished by him.
“Should I throw them out?”
Rosalie’s voice snaps me from my thoughts and I force a smile. “No, I bet they’re from Olivia. I told her I was running late this morning and missed picking up my usual morning treat.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I can tell she’s skeptical, but I smile wider, pick up the coffee, and take a sip. As the heat and taste flow over my tongue, my eyes close. Damn. I really missed not having this earlier.
“All right. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks, Rosalie.”
Moving back to my chair, I sit down and savor a few more sips of life-boosting goodness before delving into the bag. It’s only when I put it on my desk and tear it open that I notice the note.
Tucked into the bottom of the bag, on what looks like a torn off piece of receipt, is a message and a phone number.
Sorry not sorry I kept you up all night.
Enjoy your breakfast.
G
“Oh shit!” Snapping upright, I check Rosalie isn’t within reading distance before picking up the paper. I reread Garrett’s words—the G has to be for Garrett, right? I don’t know anyone else with the initial G who would send me coffee and breakfast.
Frowning, I reach for my phone to check I haven’t missed any calls. The screen is devoid of notifications. Which brings another problem.
Normally I’d thank the sender of such a thoughtful gift but I can’t be sure who the sender?—
“Bullshit. That’s a lie,” I mutter.
Staring at my phone, I take another sip of coffee and contemplate my options. I could message him a thank you. Or I could call him. Or sit back, enjoy my treats and ignore who they came from.
That last one doesn’t sit right. His thoughtfulness this morning only adds to the way he took care of me last night when my car wouldn’t start. It’s strange having someone else do things for me. And it’s not even the things he’s done, it’s that he did them at all.
Julian never took care of my needs. If anything, he expected me to take care of all of his.
I huff. I ignored too many red flags when it came to my ex-husband. Then again, maybe I’m guilty of ignoring my own needs and wants. I know I didn’t voice my opinion on a lot of things in most—hell—allof my relationships.
The only place I haven’t stayed quiet about what I wanted was last night. In Garrett’s bed.
And every confession, every whispered or yelled request was met with gusto. He didn’t pull any punches. I asked. He delivered.
“Dammit.” I break off a piece of muffin and shove it in my mouth. I need to at least message him. I should call. It’s the right thing to do. He’s been so considerate of me, I can’t be anything else in return.
Swallowing my bite, I break off a bigger section and pop it into my mouth while I think about what I can do to say thank you for everything. The car. The fantastic mind-blowing sex. Breakfast.
If it was Olivia or Elizabeth, I’d treat them to dinner but…
Why can’t I thank Garrett with a meal?
I can’t deny the idea of eating dinner with him has my insides fluttering. Excitement fizzing across my nerve endings.
