Page 84 of All Tied Down

EMERSON: No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay

GARRETT: Are you sure?

Irritation claws at me now that Garrett is making this bigger than I intended it to be. This is why I don’t get involved romantically with anyone. Caring about my family is different from caring about someone who is temporarily in my life.

I can’t dedicate time to worrying if he’s all right.

Even in my head the argument seems ridiculous. I’m allowed to care and worry about Garrett regardless of whether we’re together or not.

I just don’t want to.

It makes me feel raw and exposed—like I’m sharing a secret and not knowing what he’ll do with it.

Am I really so jaded I can’t just care about someone?

EMERSON: Yes, I’m fine.

I’ve barely hit send before my phone starts ringing, my desire to answer Garrett’s call far less now that I’ve had time to stew in my thoughts.

“Hey,” I manage as I put the device to my ear and pace around my office.

“Don’t worry about the paparazzi, okay?” Garrett’s voice is deep and reassuring, the sound wrapping around me like a hug.

Which I also do not want.

“I know they can just show up but why my office? It’s so boring.”

“You’re anything but boring, Miss Andrews.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing right now?” My heels click against the dark wood floors, only silencing once I hit the cream-colored Persian rug before turning back and making the circuit again.

“We’re taking a break. And even if we weren’t, I’d still be making this call, so I know you’re okay.”

Ugh, why does he have to be so damn sweet?

“I’m fine. I just have a lot of work to do.” Annoyance thrums through my veins because I do have a lot of work and yet I’m still dragging this out.

“I’ll see you when you get home?”

Forcing brightness into my tone I don’t feel, I say, “Yes. Let’s just get takeout.”

“Anything you want.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right, Em. Try not to worry, all right?”

Instead of answering, I hang up and toss my phone onto my desk before sucking in a steadying breath and steeling myself to be productive. The stack of contracts I need to go through is suddenly less appealing than getting a root canal. I can’t completely abandon them, but there’s also no chance that I’ll make it a full day here.

My entire being feels worn out, all because the paparazzi are outside my office. I shouldn’t let it get to me but right now, I can’t find any fucks to give. And if I’m going to spiral, I might as well make it good.

Picking up my phone, I type out a new message.

EMERSON: I need a favor

THEO: Yes, goddess of the corporate world, to what do I owe this pleasure of your communication?

EMERSON: And they say I’m spicy