“Maybe Waters Field and Leaman will keep you. Have you considered that?”
“It’s a possibility. I’m not sure how I would respond. It would save me a job search, but I wouldn’t have Mark, and he’s the reason I love my job. Would I still want to be there without him?”
“You’d still have Megumi and Will.”
“There’s that,” I agreed.
We lay there in companionable silence for a while.
Then he said, “So it looks like you and me are just floating around in the hell-if-I-know boat.”
“Trey is going to call,” I assured him, even though I still had no idea what Trey would say when he did.
“Sure. He’s a nice guy. He won’t leave me hanging.” Cary sounded so weary. “It’s what he’s going to say, not when, that’s the kicker.”
“I know. Love should be easier than this,” I complained.
“If this were a romantic comedy, it’d be called Love Actually Sucks.”
“Maybe we should’ve stuck with Sex and the City.”
“Tried that. Ended up Knocked Up. I should’ve gone for being a 40-Year-Old Virgin, but I had way too much of a head start.”
“We can write a manual on How to Lose a Guy in 10 Weeks.”
Cary looked at me. “Fucking perfect.”
—
WEDNESDAY morning hit me like a hangover.
Getting ready for work at my mom’s place helped me to not miss Gideon so much, but it sure as hell didn’t separate me from my mother, who was driving me nuts talking about the wedding nonstop. Even Stanton, with his endless capacity for indulging my mom’s neurosis, gave me sympathetic looks when he was around.
I couldn’t think about the wedding now. I couldn’t think beyond each and every hour of the day. That was how I was getting by—one hour at a time.
When I stepped out of the lobby onto the street, I found Angus waiting for me with the Bentley rather than Raúl with the Benz. I managed a smile, genuinely pleased to see him, but I was wary, too.
“Good morning, Angus.” I jerked my chin toward the car and whispered, “Is he in there?”
He shook his head, then touched the brim of his vintage chauffeur’s hat. “Good morning, Mrs. Cross.”
I squeezed his shoulder briefly before sliding past the door he opened and into the backseat. In short order we were easing into the snarl of morning traffic and heading toward midtown.
Leaning forward, I asked, “How is he?”
“Worse than you, I expect.” He glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to traffic. “He’s suffering, lass. Last night was the hardest.”
“God.” I sank back into the seat, at a loss for what to do.
I didn’t want Gideon to hurt. He’d been hurt too much already.
Pulling out my smartphone, I texted him. I love you.
His reply was almost immediate. Calling. Pls answer.
A moment later the phone vibrated in my hand and his picture appeared on my screen. It was like a quick stab to the heart to see his face after spending the last few days avoiding any image of him. I was equally afraid to hear his voice. I didn’t know if I could be strong. And I didn’t have the answers he needed from me.
My voice mail kicked in and the phone quieted. It started vibrating again right away.