Page 42 of Keeping Denver

"Denver, you don't have to start tomorrow. Why don't you take the rest of the week off? Come in on Monday."

"No," I shake my head. "I'd much rather keep myself busy. So, if tomorrow is okay with you, I'll see you in the morning."

Spencer agrees. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

Later that night, I am lying in bed when my phone begins to ring. Callan's name pops up on the screen, and I immediately send it to voicemail again, even though I want nothing more than to hear his voice. A second later, the phone vibrates with a text message.

I'm sorry, baby. I fucked up.

Please answer your phone.

I need to hear your voice.

I miss you.

A tear slides down my cheek onto the phone screen as I read Callan's words. I can't bring myself to reply. No matter how bad I want to. "I miss you too." Setting my phone on the table beside the bed, I hug a pillow into my chest and curl into a ball. I don't know how long I lay crying before sleep finally sneaks in and rescues me from the heartache I'm struggling to break free from.

* * *

The next morning, I wake to find some, but not all of my clothes from Callan's Penthouse delivered. I'm guessing Spencer told him about my new job. Deciding not to question Callan's gesture, I go about getting ready for my first day of work. After securing my long hair back in a fishtail braid, I put on a pair of black high waisted, wide-leg dress slacks, a cream color blouse, and pair it with some brown ankle boots with a three-inch heel. Stepping in front of the mirror, I take in my reflection. As I look at myself wearing the clothes Callan bought me, a small part of me wants to be petty and toss all the clothes in the trash. Like I did my purse. What can I say? I was having a moment. Spending the night in jail does something to a woman.

"I really shouldn't have tossed the purse," I sigh.

Noticing the time, I realize the Uber taking me to work will be here any minute, and I grab my things and head downstairs, where I find Frances about to head out herself. "Good morning, Denver. I was just about to get you. I'm going to drop you at work."

"That's kind of you, Frances, but Spencer's office is in the opposite direction. I already called an Uber." Then I get an alert; my ride's here. "See. My ride just pulled up."

"Okay, dear. If you're sure."

"Yep. I'll see you later." I wave as I walk toward the door. I'm just about to head out when Frances stops me.

"Wait! Before I forget." She pulls something from her pocket, handing it to me. "Here's a key to the house and the code for the alarm."

"Thanks." I pocket the key.

As I make it down the steps toward my waiting ride, I notice a black sedan parked on the street and a man talking to the Uber driver. A second later, my ride drives off and the other man steps up to the sedan, opening the back door. "Miss Hollis, Mr. Hawk sent me to accompany you to and from work."

I narrow my eyes at Mitch. "Did he now?"

"Yes, ma'am. Along with anywhere else you wish to go."

Letting out a frustrated breath, I peer down at my watch. Crap. Not wanting to be late for work, I relent. "Fine," I climb into the back seat. As Mitch shuts the door, I look to my left and find a cup of Starbucks coffee sitting in the cupholder; next to it, a small white bag. Reaching over, I snatch the bag and peek inside to find a cinnamon bun still warm. I pick up the coffee to take a sip, stopping short when I read, I miss you written on the side of the cup in Callan's handwriting. Between the clothes, and car, it only takes those three little words to make my heart flutter.

Fifteen minutes later, the car pulls up in front of Spencer's building, which is just as big as the one Callan owns. "Would you like me to walk you in, ma'am?" Mitch asks when he opens the door, letting me out.

"No, thank you, Mitch. And please call me Denver."

Mitch chuckles. "Will do. Have a good day, Denver. I'll be back at four-thirty to take you home."

Unlike Callan, when I walk into Spencer's building, instead of security, I'm met by a woman who looks to be in her seventies sitting behind a computer at a large desk.

"Hello, young lady. Can I help you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Would you tell me what floor Spencer Knight is on?"

"He's at the top. Twentieth floor."

"Thank you."