“This is Lauren,” Noah’s assistant answers the phone. “How can I help?”
“Hi, Lauren. Is Noah available?”
A long, annoyed sigh meets my ear, “He’s busy, Sidney.”
“Right,” I bite my lip. “Do you know when he will be out of his meeting?”
“Can’t say,” Lauren replies, her tone bored. “You know how it is.”
“Can you ask him to call me back?”
“Sure,” she answers, and then promptly hangs up the phone.
Bitch.
Shaking my head, I pocket my cell and do a few breathing exercises to get myself together. Holy shit. This is monumental.Huge.
This could completely transform my career.
I’m arranging flowers fortheStella Shaw. My flowers are going to be broadcast across the entire world. Holy shit, they’ll be in magazines and newspapers.
The realization has my stomach dropping.
I have confidence in my ability, in my art, but having the entire world looking at it, criticizing it—because that will happen—is a whole new game I don’t know how to play.
I can do this; I can handle this.
Blowing out a breath, I head back into the room, tilting my chin like I’m not actually a whole damn mess.
Thea grins at me while Betty nurses a margarita. Where did she even get that!?
“You good?” Thea asks, leaning her hip on the table before crossing her arms.
“I’m good.”
“Then let’s get started.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Any messages?” I ask Lauren, finally free from the six-hour meeting that was in fact only meant to be two. We’ve had a few issues with a couple of apps we’re creating for some start-up businesses in the area—bugs and such, nothing extreme but it meant we had to deep dive into some codes and back-end shit that then revealed some deeper issues with our platform integrity. It’s being fixed now, but fuck, it could have ended badly had someone tried to hack our network.
I created the start-up division for smaller businesses to be able to get opportunities that larger corporations used to dominate, offering apps and platforms for newer and smaller businesses at a fraction of the cost. I was them once, a small fish in a very big pond, and Iknow how it feels to be circled by sharks. This way I can feed back to the community while helping businesses that will only make the world a better place.
“Nope,” Lauren gives me a smile from behind her computer screen, “No messages for you today. And all your emails are covered until tomorrow.”
I check my watch and see it’s way past five; Sidney would have had her consultation by now.
“Are you sure I don’t have any messages?” I frown.
“I’m sure, Mr. Calahan.”
I rap my knuckles against the top of her desk and nod, “Alright. Head on home.”
Pulling out my cell, I find no new messages from her; the device depressingly empty of any notification I actually want to see. I don’t give a shit about the weather or the social media posts from guys I went to college with.
It’s already dark out by the time I’m throwing my keys down onto the counter back at the penthouse. Too silent. Too empty. And still no message from Sidney. She’s home; I watched her unlock her front door while juggling an armful of books and a bag of groceries, and she’s been online. Yes, it’s fucking creepy. I stalked her social media to check when she was last active before I left the office.
Throwing myself down onto the couch, I let out a sigh and lay my head on the back cushions. Everywhere I look, I see her in this apartment. The cardigan she left on the back of the bar stool at the kitchen island, herlipstick sitting on the shelf in the bathroom from the last time she got ready here for a night out. There are photos of us in every room. There are the snacks she likes in the cupboard, the wine she likes on the rack. Even her smell lingers here, that floral scent that follows her around, clinging to the cushions and blankets.
