I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,193

and Randy grab a beer and head into the kitchen, leaving all the women to themselves in the living room. I love that my new friends and old are meshing so easily.

“So, what time will Eli get here?” Savannah questions as she scrunches her shoulders.

“Should be here in about ten minutes. I should text him to make sure.”

I pull my phone out and search for the last name that he put himself as, but there is no Best Sex of My Life contact. I should’ve known he’d change it again. I scroll through the contacts from the start. Of course, he doesn’t use his actual name, that would be too easy, so I continue checking each letter.

When I get to what is clearly the new name change, I burst out laughing. He’s a mess, my mess, but a freaking mess.

Savannah looks at me with a mixture of humor and worry. “What’s so funny?”

“He changes his name in my phone each time I forget to hide it.”

“Oh, what has my idiot brother-in-law called himself this time?”

“Mr. Multiple Orgasms.”

She doubles over with laughter, and I shake my head.

Me: Hello, Mr. Multiple Orgasms . . . seriously? I wanted to make sure you’re picking me up at 8? I can’t wait to see you.

Mr. Multiple Orgasms: Yup, I’ll be there by eight. I’m leaving in five minutes.

My smile is automatic. I can’t wait to see his face.

“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes!” I tell everyone and go back to my conversation with Savannah. She laughs about the other names Eli’s given himself, and then we all mingle.

Twenty-five minutes pass and still no Eli, so I shoot him another text.

Me: Hey, you almost here?

Another fifteen minutes pass, and he doesn’t respond. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic?

I mingle with my friends, watching the clock and trying not to jump to conclusions. I have to remember that not everything is a tragedy waiting to happen. Years of being preprogramed to expect the worst is sometimes a curse.

It’s now half past eight, and he’s definitely late, and I’m undeniably concerned.

“I’m not sure where the hell he is,” I say to myself as I make my way around the room. I shoot off another text.

Me: I hope you’re okay . . . please text me back or call me.

Brody comes over, places his hand on my back, and drops his voice to a whisper. “What’s the matter, Covey?”

I look over with surprise.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he admonishes. “I can read you. You’re worried about him being late?”

I subtly shake my head. “I’m fine. He said he’d be here over a half hour ago, and we both know it doesn’t take that long to get here. He isn’t responding to my texts, either.”

I wait for my phone to buzz with a response.

“Everything okay?” Nicole asks when she sees me whispering with Brody.

“She’s just being Heather,” Brody explains.

I shoot him a dirty look, and he shrugs. “He usually texts me right back, and he’s now forty minutes late. I’m wondering why he isn’t responding.”

“Maybe he fell asleep?” she suggests, which is ludicrous.

“After he said he was leaving?” I counter.

“Want me to check in at the station for reports of any accidents?” Brody offers.

I shake my head. “No, I’m probably being stupid. I’m going to call him now.”

I can’t explain it, but there’s a niggling feeling in my gut telling me something else is keeping him. There are times that gut check has been the difference of life and death for me, I don’t tend to ignore it, but I don’t want to be a crazy girlfriend, either.

I make my way outside to see if maybe his car is here, but since there’s no sign of him, I call. The phone rings and rings before his voice mail picks up.

“Hey, babe, I’m calling because it’s been almost an hour since you said you’d be here, and I haven’t heard from you. Give me a call when you can. Love you.”

I disconnect the phone and start to pace the porch. My mind races from one extreme to the other as I go from fear to resolve. A big part of me wants to get in the car and head over there, the other says I have to trust him. He could be held up for a hundred reasons, and my being paranoid isn’t going to be good for a long-distance relationship we’re about to embark on. Not wanting to be dramatic, I convince myself to head inside and give