On the Run (Whispering Key #2) - May Archer Page 0,91
outed. And if he knew about the bullshit between Young Rafe and Jayd…”
My stomach sank. “He did. I told him.”
Fenn grimaced. “Then Toby was doing you a favor by not asking you to keep a secret he thought might test your loyalty.”
I tried hard to hold on to my anger, since the alternative was feeling guilty and sad. “He still should have told me. If he’d told me, I’d have…” I broke off and shook my head.
God, I wasn’t sure. And if I wasn’t sure, how the heck should Toby have been?
My anger evaporated entirely.
“I was wrong,” Mason admitted softly.
“Yeah,” I agreed. That seemed to be going around.
“I need to go find him.” Mason nodded resolutely and headed for the door. “Or at least call him. Apologize profusely.”
“Right behind you, Loafers,” Fenn said, grabbing a pancake off the tray and stuffing it in his mouth.
In the bathroom, I found Toby’s toiletry bag right where we’d left it the night before. I lifted the bag to my nose so I could take a breath of his sexy cologne—the happiest breath I’d taken all morning—and I got a crazy surge of hope because he wouldn’t just have left this stuff behind. That meant he was coming back, right?
But when I brought the bag into the bedroom, my heart dropped again because my bracelet sat on the dresser, coiled atop a note that said simply, Beale: Your soul mate is one lucky guy. Thank you for everything, and I’m truly sorry. —Toby
I stared at the stones for a long moment before I picked the bracelet up and held it tightly in my hand. It seemed crazy that just a few days ago, I’d felt such an intense connection to these stones when now they felt empty.
I felt empty.
My phone buzzed with a notification.
LITTLEJOHN: Not with me. Dropped him at the airport last night and he’s back in NYC. You done fucked it up, Goodman.
I clutched the phone in my fist and threw my head back to the ceiling.
I remembered Toby on the boat the other day, talking about his family. Saying he’d left town after they’d hurt him and he’d never gone back.
LITTLEJOHN: He was in tears, in case that matters.
I shut my eyes tight and sucked in a breath. It mattered. Fuck, just thinking about Toby crying made me want to cry, too, and in that minute, when it was way too late, the truth hit me: I’d fallen in love with Toby Elford.
He was not the soul mate I’d intended to manifest for myself. He was snarky and cutting, self-absorbed and high-strung. He didn’t trust me. He might never love me back.
But none of that seemed to matter to my heart.
Toby had told me that I was enough, even when everyone else seemed to be saying something different. He’d helped me clear the stumbling blocks in my mind so I could choose what I wanted for my life, even if what I wanted was what I already had. He’d believed in me and made me believe in me.
The man deserved more than an apology… he deserved to have someone clear a path for him.
It was time for me to stop waiting for the Universe to hand me good things; it was time for me to start making them happen.
17
Toby
Help Me Hagatha (Issue #2444)
Dear Aunt Hagatha:
I’m having trouble with my cat. Every time my boyfriend stays over, she pees on his belongings, and it’s really starting to cause a strain in our relationship. He’s tried to be patient, and I understand why he’s upset, but I love my pet and I hate to think of surrendering her. There doesn’t appear to be a simple solution here. What should I do?
Pitiful in Platte
Dear Pitiful,
Simple and easy are two different things, but if you truly love your cat, you’ll fight for her. When you love hard, you’ll fight harder, even when it seems hopeless. I suggest talking to your vet. Also, check out the articles linked below. I’ll be thinking of you. Check back soon.
Love,
Hagatha
“Tobias, are you even listening?” Jeanette’s disembodied voice came through the phone as I sprawled on my sofa, staring out my ginormous curved window at the city skyline.
That view over Chelsea, which was worth at least a couple million dollars of the apartment’s 3.5-million price tag, looked wrong.
The sky wasn’t blue enough.
Big, blocky buildings littered the horizon where palm trees should have swayed.
Nothing in my cramped apartment smelled like coconut sunscreen or fresh air.