the morning, and he and Fiona only stopped working because the banquet hall had asked them to leave so they could finish cleaning.
Every muscle in his body screamed with exhaustion, in the same way it did after he swam laps for an hour. What he wouldn’t give for his pool right now. Or his hot tub, with the jets turned on full blast to knead the knots bunching up his neck and shoulders.
He turned on the light to his suite, loosening his tie as he walked in, his mind full to the brim with a quickly forming task list. First he’d need to email all the store managers and let them know he was back to work. Then, Fiona was encouraging him to agree to one of the many interview requests he’d been getting from the news stations. He could announce his return to Pets and More and give an update on his mental health at the same time.
He collapsed into the chair by the desk, wishing he could climb in bed and go to sleep, but he told Fiona he’d try to get caught up on his emails tonight.
He pulled up his laptop and logged in to his work account for the first time in almost a month. His stomach dropped at the number of emails there. Fiona’s assistant was going to check his email and forward all of the urgent ones on to Fiona. Yet, there were over twelve-hundred emails still in his account. People waiting to hear from him. Advertisers, suppliers, regional managers with questions, and that was merely the tip of the iceberg.
He rubbed at his eyes, trying to mentally gear himself up to jump into this monumental task. Water would help. He stood and went into the kitchenette, pausing when he saw the pile of leftover candy bars from the impromptu chocolate tasting sitting near his sink.
Viola.
It was like a switch in his brain flipped, turning off the work that had so consumed him, and lighting up everything else. Times Square. They were supposed to go tonight. He swore under his breath.
Had he even said goodbye to her when she’d left the banquet? He wracked his brain for some memory of kissing her, walking her to the car, promising to see her soon.
Nothing. Fiona had set that tablet in front of him and started talking work, and like an addict, he hadn’t pulled his eyes from it for a moment.
2:00 a.m. Would it be worse to wake her up or to let her sleep and apologize first thing in the morning?
He glanced at his computer. He could probably tackle a good couple hundred of those emails, snatch an hour or two of sleep, and still wake Viola up just in time for breakfast. Times Square in the morning wasn’t quite as awe-inspiring, but it was still a lot of fun.
Once he started in on the emails, the time flew, and when he checked the time again, he realized he hadn’t given himself any time to sleep. Instead, he finally got out of his suit and jumped into the shower in an attempt to jump-start his brain.
He sent a quick text to Viola once he got out and dressed. Breakfast?
Then he called down to the front desk. “Can you send flowers to room number 1082?”
The clerk hummed under his breath, and Liam heard the clacking of keys. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one in that room right now.”
“There is,” he argued. He’d dropped Viola off at her door just the night before after their “chocolate” tasting. They’d shared a long, lingering kiss with her pressed up against number 1082 on the door. “Viola Nightingdale.”
“Hang on a second.” More keys clacked. “Okay, it says here that the person in room 1082 checked out last night.”
“What time?”
“It doesn’t say. I’m sorry.”
Liam growled and dropped the phone onto the hook. Viola had checked out last night?
He paced the room, trying to put all the pieces together. They’d had a wonderful day yesterday. Magical, even. He’d thought they were on the same page with how they were feeling about each other.
What had changed?
His phone buzzed, then buzzed again, and he knew that he was starting to get replies to all the emails he’d sent out the night before. It lit up with a text from Fiona, and then another one from one of the regional managers. Now that he’d logged back into his accounts, it was going off nonstop.
He closed his eyes. “I am such an idiot.”
The night before