Bachelor Swap - Lacey Black Page 0,56
not working at the office but have a few things to do in my home office. I’d make myself available to you, if you needed something.”
“Thank you,” I say, standing on the sidewalk.
“It’s still early, you know.”
I glance at my watch and notice it’s just after eight.
“You could slip over to that fancy apartment complex Matthew lives in and enjoy a night cap, if you know what I mean,” she states, elbowing me in the ribs.
I glance around, noticing the man standing beside me is grinning. “Am, everyone knows what you mean,” I reply, diverting my eyes as the blush creeps up my neck.
“I think I’m going home to text Callum. Maybe he’s into sexting.”
The guy beside me laughs but tries to cover it with a cough. I grab my friend’s hand and drag her toward the parking lot where our vehicles are before she can say anything else to embarrass me.
“Thanks for dinner,” I tell my best friend, pulling her into a hug.
“You’re welcome. See you Saturday,” she says, throwing me a wave over her shoulder and slipping into her BMW.
When I’m inside my own car, I pull out my cell phone and plug it into the charger. It has plenty of battery left, but it’s a habit I’m in, ensuring I always have plenty of juice in case of an emergency. I glance at the screen, a sadness slipping in when I don’t see a text from Matthew. He knew I was having dinner with Amalee tonight, but I had kind of hoped he’d invite me over afterward. Or at least text to see how my night was going.
Deciding to take the bull by the horns, I fire off a quick message.
Me: Just finished up dinner with Amalee.
When my text goes unanswered, I return my phone to my cup holder and pull out of the lot. I almost turn to head toward Matthew’s place, but decide against it. If he hasn’t replied, it means he’s probably busy. I know he has a big day coming up, with his business deal looming, and could be working.
I will admit, for a man who was very passionately devoted to that particular deal a handful of weeks ago, he’s been very lax in the last few. Maybe that’s because he has everything where he wants it, which would be good news. I’ve seen how absorbed my dad would get when he was working to secure a deal, and how consuming work can be the closer it gets to signing. I just hope everything is still on track come Saturday, and no issues arise. The last thing I’d want to see is him too busy to attend the gala.
By the time I reach my building and park, my text message still goes unanswered, so I slip my purse over my shoulder, wave a quick greeting to the evening shift manning the front door, and head upstairs to the penthouse.
Deciding to get comfortable, I change my clothes into a cozy nightshirt and wash the makeup off my face. With my hair pulled up in a ponytail, I move to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine and flip on the whole-house stereo system. Ed Sheeran fills the rooms with his soft crooning, and I’m instantly put in a better mood.
The wine helps.
I try not to glance at my phone, but it’s fruitless. I must check my device two dozen times over the next thirty minutes, but no response appears. In fact, I go in and make sure I actually sent my original message. When I see it was sent and shows as delivered, I set my phone down on the counter, fill my wine glass with more liquid love, and head for the balcony.
Sipping sweet wine, I watch the traffic below, the cars moving at a steady pace to get to their destination. I end up standing there, leaning against the railing, for nearly an hour, making up stories for those on the sidewalk. Even though I’m too high to see their features, it’s an enjoyable way to pass the time, and I don’t dwell on whether or not there’s a response waiting for me on my phone.
Finally, when I start to yawn and my glass is empty, I head back inside, securing the door behind me as I go. I place my empty glass beside the sink, grab my phone, disable the elevator, and go upstairs to bed. It isn’t until I’m settled beneath the plush down comforter that I finally