CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ellery
“What?” I pull my phone from my cheek and look at it—as if seeing is believing—before putting it back to my cheek. I can’t possibly have heard that correctly.
“I said I was reviewing everything for the Revlon job with Gregory, and I am thoroughly impressed with all the prep you did for it. Stellar work. Simply stellar.”
“Um. Thank you.” What’s the catch here? Why is Garland complimenting me now when this is the same kind of work I’ve always done for Haywood?
“The project is going well, I presume?”
I feel like I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.
“Yes. Very. Most days.” I laugh. “You know how projects are. They always have their hiccups, but for the most part, yes, things are running smoothly.”
“Good. I’m glad. I hope they continue down the same path.”
“Thank you.” An awkward silence stretches across the line, and I struggle for something to fill it with. Just as I’m about to speak, he does.
“Her birthday is coming up soon.”
My throat constricts at his words and the atypical emotion woven in them. “I know.”
Another pause. A clearing of his throat. “It’s a tough day for me to get through. I can’t imagine how it is for you.”
I have absolutely no idea what to say to his comment. He’s never said anything of the sort in the years since her death. I open my mouth. Close it.
“I just wanted you to know I’ll be thinking about you, Elle. And that she’d be proud of what you’re doing because it’s exactly what she would have done too.”
“Thank you.” I can barely get the two words out over the emotion clogging my throat.
“No need to thank me.”
When the call ends, I stand there and stare at my cell, replaying the conversation in my head and wondering what it meant.
The skeptic in me would say he’s just calling to check on things because he’s hoping for a future payday when it comes to S.I.N.
But there was something in his voice, something that the woman who reads romance novels and pretends like she doesn’t believe in happily ever afters, heard the faintest strains of.
Garland loved her.
He truly did.
While I may not have understood or seen that love on display in a conventional way, he still did.
Clearly there are more ways than one to love. Not all relationships . . . look the same.
You can still be devastated by its loss in the end.
Perhaps that proves my point.
Love is dangerous, something to be avoided at all costs.