24. Heather
24
Heather
“ H e hasn’t called or texted.” I sat at my desk in the Millennia office, but I couldn’t sit still.
I was itching to get up and move. But I’d already been to the break room. I’d had three cups of coffee and one cup of hot cocoa. At this rate I was going to become a blimp, living on a steady stream of coffee and cream waiting for David to call me.
Lucy leaned back in her chair and shot me a glance. “It’s only been like a day, right?”
“Two days . . . but still,” I mumbled.
She cocked up one brow, as if to say I was acting like a lunatic. “He has a huge corporation to run. A company he ignored while he was here the past week.”
Was I being irrational?
As Lucy had pointed out, it hadn’t been that long since I’d seen David. But while he’d been in California, I’d never gone a full day without him at least texting me something. Whether it was snarky or funny or sweet, I’d always heard from him—if not seen him in person—daily.
I tried to reason things out. Rationally. Because I was completely rational. For now.
He’d been on the road for the first day.
I’d searched the distance from Drew’s place to El Paso, Texas, which is where my internet search said Strickland Feed was based. It was over an eleven-hour drive. And that’s only if he hadn’t stopped anywhere.
So okay, he would have gotten home late so not hearing from him the first day was understandable. But a whole other day had passed and I still hadn’t heard a word.
Now, the morning of day three, I honestly did feel like I had something to worry about.
I glanced up and saw her watching me. I pulled my thumb, the cuticle of which I’d been gnawing relentlessly, out of my mouth. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.”
Lucy’s being right still didn’t make me happy. My insecurities were running full speed ahead.
Was there a woman he dated back in Texas? Or women, plural? A hot rich guy wouldn’t be without all the companionship he wanted.
And that comment he’d made in bed that last night—that he was going to miss sex with me after he left for good—didn’t exactly bode well for our continued relationship.
Relationship. More like a two-night stand, with some verbal sparring thrown in as foreplay and one damn coffee date.
We had gone out dancing. That felt like a date even if technically it hadn’t been.
Nope. All of the evidence that we were actually a couple was weak at best. We weren’t in a relationship and there was no reason for David to ever call or text me again.
Except that he was supposed to be at the event on Saturday.
My mind was spinning out of control. I felt out of control. I hadn’t felt like this in years. I’d sworn I’d never let myself feel like this again.
“He’s not Larry.”
The sound of my ex’s name on Lucy’s lips brought back the familiar feeling of nausea to the pit of my stomach.
I didn’t talk about Larry. I didn’t even let myself think about Larry. At least not usually. I was sure thinking about him now.
My getting this job at New Millennia Media had come at just the right time. I’d moved here to escape the memories of him. My first—my best—friend here immediately upon my arrival had been Lucy.
We’d had one long bitch session at my place. That had turned into a cry session that also entailed lots of wine and a killer hangover the next day. But we came out of that night with one rule. We’d never speak his name aloud again.
That Lucy had broken the rule told me she knew that I might not be speaking Larry’s name, but I sure was remembering.
We’d dated for years. All through college, and through the years right after graduation. But he had a high school sweetheart he’d apparently never gotten over.
It began with trips to visit his parents in the hometown where his ex still lived. Then it became texts and calls between them—but they were just friends, he insisted.
Long story short, it turned out he’d gotten back together with her, but was too much of a ball-less chicken to tell me. So he’d tried to balance us both. For longer than I cared to imagine.
How long had he been spending weekends with her and then driving back to spend the week with me? I cringed at the thought.
Finally, I guess he couldn’t take the juggling anymore, and he made his decision. I was not the one he chose.
As Lucy had said, that had been a good thing. Why would I want a man like that? A liar. A cheater. A coward.
Knowing that on a cerebral level was one thing. Feeling that in my shattered heart as the darkness of depression and insecurity slowly engulfed me after the breakup was another thing entirely.
I was quiet for long enough Lucy stood and walked to my desk.
“Don’t.” All she said was that one single word.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t let yourself go there. You need to give David the benefit of the doubt.”
I blew out a bitter laugh at that suggestion. “That hasn’t exactly worked out for me in past.”
I’d wasted too much time giving Larry the benefit of the doubt. I’d put my faith in him and it had bit me in the butt. It should be understandable I was running a little short on trust at the moment.
“Want me to call Drew?” she asked. “I can feel around. See if I can get any info.”
Yes. I wanted that more than anything. But I wouldn’t let her do it. The two men were friends. Drew could easily lie to Lucy to cover for David. Or worse, he could tell her a truth I might not want to hear.
And I really needed to separate my personal life from work. Particularly now when it looked like the sizzle reel we’d filmed at the farm could get the project the green light.
That meant I’d be working day and night on the promo for the show. And every time I saw a picture or a video of the farm, or Rowdy, or Drew, would be like a slice across my heart as it all reminded me of David.
It was hard enough the past couple of days working on stuff for the shelter while checking my cell for a text, and for battery life, and for signal.
“What are you thinking?” Lucy asked.
I was thinking that I wanted to call him. I needed to know one way or another. And I couldn’t tell Lucy that because she wouldn’t approve.
“I don’t know what to think,” I lied.
She drew in a breath, testing the tenacity of the fabric of her top. “You want to go out somewhere fun for lunch today?” she asked.
The only thing I hated worse than feeling like this, was having people try to cheer me up while I felt like this.
“We’ll see. Okay? I got a lot to do between real work and the shelter stuff.”
She looked skeptical but nodded. “Okay.”
When she went back to her desk I palmed my cell, hid it behind one thigh and headed for the bathroom.
Inside the quasi-private space my heart thundered as I unlocked the cell and navigated to the recent calls.
There, slowly getting buried in the list of recent calls as the days without communication from him passed, was the last call from David from the weekend.
Thinking it was stupid, knowing I shouldn’t do it, I hit the listing with my thumb and the cell dialed his number. I was shaking as I pressed the phone to my ear.
Every ring had my heart pounding harder. Then the ringing stopped and I heard the jostling of the phone on the other end of the call.
But the voice that said, “Hello?” was not David’s.
Nope. It was most definitely female. I almost dropped my phone into the sink as I pulled it away from my ear and juggled it, trying to hit the screen to end the call. I was shaking so badly my hands seemed to have stopped working.
My brain hadn’t stopped though. No. In fact my imagination was working overtime. Not that it had to. It was pretty clear. Now I knew why he hadn’t called for going on three days. David wasn’t calling me because he was with another woman. A woman who felt comfortable enough with him, close enough to him, to answer his cell phone.
Maybe she was a woman just like me. A woman who was wondering what David was doing and with whom while he had been away from her last week.
Was he lying to both of us? Double dipping like Larry had been? Seeing both her and me? Sleeping with both of us . . .
The answer to Lucy’s questions about lunch was clear. I wouldn’t be eating anything, not out or at my desk, because I was about to puke up my breakfast.