First Comes Love - Ashlee Price Page 0,75

tin of apple pie?

“Want some?” he asks, as if this is a perfectly natural thing to be doing at two in the morning.

“No?” I say.

In bed, I lie there, eyes closed, fatigue closing on me like a vacuum. Sleep doesn’t come.

Only the scraping certainty that I’ve failed Harley yet again.

**

I awake to the serene sounds of a burbling brook.

“What… the fuck?” I grumble.

Landon smiles. “Rise and shine, brother. We have work to get to, remember? Isn’t the alarm I set for you nice?”

I swipe at my phone, glare at the time I see. “It’s 5 AM for fuck’s sake!”

He nods, straightening his tie in my mirror. “Thought I’d wake you before I headed out for the gym. Nolan pranked your phone by changing your alarm to ‘Who Let the Dogs Out’ for noon.”

“Fucker,” I mutter.

Guess waking up at 5 AM beats waking up at noon. Although I feel like shit.

“Everything OK last night?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

“Meaning?”

“You jetted off—probably to see that cinematographer I’m assuming?”

When I don’t answer, he continues, “Then you came back looking like absolute shit.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” he says smoothly.

“Good.”

“Good.” Landon heads for the door, throwing me a wave. “See ya.”

I glare at his receding back. Trust him to throw salt in a wound that I didn’t even know I had. Not that I thought things were at all OK after last night. Just—I don’t need any more reminders that things are fucked. Royally.

I sink back into bed, eyes closing even though I know it’s pointless. There won’t be any more sleep for me. Not until I’ve called up Harley and told her.

I sit up and stare into the mirror. Told her what, exactly? That I was an idiot to break up with her in the first place? That, screw the consequences, we should be together?

She’s probably already past that. I’ve let her down too many times already. Why the hell should she trust me again?

Halfway to reaching for my phone, I pause.

I’m not exactly in great shape to call her right now. This pounding headache isn’t showing any signs of going away anytime soon. Maybe popping a couple Advils and getting some work done in the office will put me in a better mood.

A few hours and Advils later, I’m at the office. The headache is gone, my mood is still shit. Not that I really expected it to be any different, with what happened last night. Clearly, the ball of tension in my upper back isn’t going to go away until I get it over with. Call her up. Tell her what I have to. Whatever that is.

But it’s break time, and part of me is still certain I’ll find the right words if I wait a bit longer.

So, I prowl the office, scrutinizing all the productive workers, the small cogs that make up Storm Inc. I eye the employees, the best of the best my dad narrowed down to work for him. I catch a glimpse of Landon, excited with the new project he’s working on.

I glare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I can’t figure it out. Whether I would really risk all this just to be with her. Whether it could still be the right thing to do even if it ruined her dream career and reputation too.

“Look at this.” Landon saunters into my office a few minutes later, waving several newspapers triumphantly. “What do you see?”

I peer at the headlines. “Economy’s not doing as well as expected?”

“No.” He eyes the heavens like I’ve just called a dog a cat, then gives the papers another shake. “No scandals about Storm Inc. or you. Even the Star has moved onto an alien sighting in Mississauga. You know what that means?”

“What?”

“We’re scot-free.”

“Scot-free,” I repeat numbly.

“Yeah, no big deal,” he quips. “It’s not like our entire company was in peril.”

“I… think I’m just beat.”

“Right.” Landon heads for the door, still grinning ear to ear. “Anyway, just thought I’d share the good news. Nolan is happy enough to go camping.”

“You say it like that’s a good thing.”

“To be fair, no one could’ve foreseen that leaving the marshmallows out would attract so many bears last time.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Landon gives me a final wave. “Keep at it, President.”

“Thanks,” I say.

And then I sit there. It occurs to me that I can’t put this off any longer. I have to talk to her. Even if I don’t have the slightest idea what I’ll say.

One call, three rings. No answer.

I call again. And again.

“C’mon,”