Chapter Twelve
The night ended, and reality came crashing back to me. I’m feeling more like Cinderella than I ever thought possible. Just like her, it didn’t matter how much I wished the night would go on forever.
I’m in my office and wishing I was still on the dance floor. My weekend in Connecticut ended all too soon and time still hasn’t given me a chance to catch my breath.
I glance at the picture on my desk from the last night I saw Phoebe. By the end of the night, her hair couldn’t be tamed. Her red curls are flowing around her in the picture where her arm is draped over me as she laughs at something I had said.
Lani captured the memory, and I had her send it to me so I could frame it right away. I’m glad I did, or that night would feel like a dream. It’s been a month, and after daily texting and calls with Phoebe, our communication has dropped to zero the last few days, and I don’t know why.
I have to push my frustration aside for now, though.
I’m on the phone with Gerald Rodriguez, doing my best to figure out why we can’t wrap up this project. He’s one of the most prominent high-end builders in Washington and if we don’t figure out a way to keep him as a client, our reputation will take a big hit.
Normally, I talk to one of Gerald’s assistants, but he’s annoyed and just as ready for this project to be over as I am, so he’s talking directly to me. My nerves are high as I choose each word carefully, knowing that he has the power to squash Trees of Steel just as we’re getting our footing here.
“I think there’s something wrong with your software.”
I want to get defensive and tell this guy there’s nothing wrong with the software. It’s the same company we’ve used for over a decade, updating and upgrading as we went along. But then he points out an error on the scale and I see why nothing’s lining up.
My stomach twists and I take a huge breath. “Mr. Rodriguez, I see the mistake. My biggest apologies, sir. I will get this fixed and sent over to you ASAP.”
“Good, good.” He clears his throat. “I enjoy working with you boys and I’m glad to see you are open to change.”
I get off the phone with him, thanking him instead of snorting and telling him I’m never open to change. If I was open to change, I wouldn’t be in my thirties still following my brother’s dream.
But with deadlines looming—and this project past its deadline—I can’t think about that. Instead, I flick through old emails and find one about an update to the drafting software. It’s to fix the exact bug plaguing this project—what do you know?
I go through the motions and send the updated files to Gerald.
It’s early enough in North Grayslake Phoebe should still be awake. I send her a text and settle into my chair, imagining the way she felt in my arms.
The ball was executed so wonderfully she had people coming up to her all night, gushing about the great time they were having.
She beamed all night. It was hard leaving her. Especially knowing we realistically won’t see each other until summer. I could fly out there whenever, but the last thing I want to do is interrupt her education.
For the last month, we’ve texted daily. Called when we can. It’s never enough, but it was at least enough to feel connected. We have been finalizing plans for a weekend getaway in about two weeks before she has to sequester herself for studying for finals.
But now?
Radio silence.
Checking my phone, I grit my teeth. Still no reply.
I wrote to her this morning, something generic about what book we should start next. I figure it’s best to go back to the beginning when something isn’t working right.
I know she’s probably just busy, but I can’t shake the feeling something more is wrong. If she found someone else, I will be devastated. I’ve run through all the worst-case scenarios and I’m pretty sure I won’t handle any of them well.
If she’s made a decision about me and it’s not a decision I agree with, I don’t think I can step aside and let her be with someone else.
“Are the files for the Rodriguez project done?” Gwen pops her head in, probably just as eager to wrap up this project as I am.
My phone dings and I scramble to check it. “Yes, Gerald just wrote back. I’ll print them myself, though.”
Gwen shrugs and grabs the file for our next big project off my desk. “Suit yourself.”
Printing the plans myself means giving me a chance to walk past Elijah’s office. Not that I truly need an excuse, but I’ve never felt this raw and vulnerable. His sister has me so shaken these past few weeks that I don’t know up from down.
His door’s open so I breeze in, doing a damn fine job of acting like nothing’s wrong.
“Ben.” He looks up, startled, and scrambles to flip his phone over.
“Hot date?”
He shakes his head and then stills. “Uh—no—I mean, yes. You caught me.” A sheepish smile plays across his face. One that I know all too well. It’s the same ridiculous face he makes when we’re playing poker and he’s hiding a good hand.
“So it was Phoebe?”
His cheeks redden and he sighs. “What’s up Ben?”
“She hasn’t written me back. We were talking every day and then—nothing.” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice, but Elijah doesn’t give me crap for it.
“She’s busy with finals and stuff. I’m sure she’ll get back to you when she can.”
But he doesn’t meet my eyes when he says this. He shuffles papers on his desk and acts like whatever report he’s reading is so engrossing he can’t tear his eyes away.
“I wouldn’t do this to her,” I mutter, backing out of his office.
He looks up for one fleeting second, and I can’t read his expression.
“That’s the face you should use when we’re playing Texas Hold ‘Em.”
“What?” His brows furrow and he studies me curiously.
“Nothing.”
I stalk to the printer, ready to pull out the final plans and put a wrap on this project.
Instead of a fresh stack of papers waiting for me in the tray, there’s a glaring red error message flashing on the screen.
“Thanks for your patience, Ben.” Ronan Bay, the head honcho at our printer company, Outpost, has taken my case on directly.
It’s why we love this company and have stuck with them despite leaving their service area in San Francisco.
“I know we can’t exactly request an in-person service appointment—”
“Not to worry. We can get this done over the phone.”
I hear him rustle papers and hum to himself. “Ben, I think I know who can help you with this problem—”
The hitch in his voice catches my attention. “But?”
“I—”
“Ronan, what is it?”
“It’s nothing. It’s not professional of me. Forget I said anything.”
I lean back in my chair and laugh. “I’m having the worst time of my life right now. Some juicy gossip would be a welcome relief.”
Ronan groans. “You and your brothers have become like friends over the years anyway, so this is just between us—”
“My lips are sealed.”
“We have a new woman in the office. She’s a whiz at fixing problems like this.” He takes a huge breath, scrambling the phone. “But I kissed her.”
“Does that mean she can’t do her job now?” I whisper conspiratorially.
“No,” he says between a laugh. “But it just happened and I’m kind of freaking out.”
“Because you’re her boss?”
“Because she’s my friend’s daughter.”
I nearly choke on a sip of coffee. “That just made me feel a little better about my problems.”
“We’re here to serve our customers. So I’ll get over my awkwardness and have my assistant get the message to Cherry.”
“Smooth. Thanks, Ronan.”
“So what’s got you bogged down?”
“A woman.”
“Ah, we’re keeping it mysterious?”
“You know her brother—”
“Elijah?” he says too quickly.
But then again, I work with my brothers and Elijah. The deductive reasoning couldn’t have been too hard.
I run my finger along the edge of my desk and figure out how to sum up everything that’s plaguing me in one sentence.
“She’s the first person I’ve felt like I could be myself around. I like who I am with her. I love being with her. We made plans, but now she’s not returning my calls.”
“That’s a hard one.” Ronan sighs. “If she’s worth it, get to the bottom of it.”
“Thanks Ronan. And good luck with your woman.”
He chuckles and thanks me. “I’ll have her call your office as soon as she can.”
“A service tech from Outpost is going to call soon.”
“Thanks for getting the ball rolling on that.”
I sit across from Elijah and straighten an ivy plant he has on the corner of his desk. It was a present from Beau because apparently the two of them don’t have enough plants at their house.
“Tell me what’s up with Phoebe. Why won’t she return my calls?”
Elijah gulps so hard I hear it. But he doesn’t look up. “I don’t know.”
“Fine.” I get to my feet and sprint out of his office before he can figure out what I’m going to do and stop me.
Something’s wrong. Phoebe and I have a connection. She wouldn’t ghost me like this. We shared too much of ourselves with each other and I can’t sit around waiting any longer.
I’m going to Connecticut.