“Bonjour!” I chirp, forcing myself to forget my guilt for her sake. “How many pastries have you eaten so far?”
“Too many,” she confesses. “I’m going to need a juice cleanse when I get back.”
I can hardly believe how glad I am to hear her voice, even if she sounds distracted. “That sounds like a wonderful trip to me.”
Once I slide into the car, I set the phone down and turn on the speaker before starting the engine. “How is everything? You haven’t sent me any pictures. You haven’t even updated your Insta.” I thought for sure she’d be posting nonstop, but the last images date back to her sitting in the jet.
“Are you stalking me?” A laugh meets my ears, but I don’t buy it. It could be paranoia, assuming everybody has a secret to hide since my secret is big enough to consume my every thought. But I’ve known Tatiana long enough to hear the difference in her voice. There’s a distinction between when she’s happy and when she’s pretending to be happy.
All I can remember is how upset she was when she got to the club after the fight with Christopher. Maybe I’m being overly concerned.
“How am I supposed to survive if I can’t live vicariously through you from pictures on social media?”
“I’ve been too busy to even think about it.”
Lie. It’s a lie. I know it, and she knows it. I don’t want to get into a fight, so I won’t challenge her.
“Well, stop being so busy. I’ve been dying to get a tour of your rental. Anyway, is everything else okay? I want something pretty to look at when I start the cubicle phase of my life.”
“Shit, you were supposed to go in today, weren’t you? I forgot all about it.”
“You’re on vacation—that could have something to do with it, and I’ll save you the boring stuff. Everything went well.” Even if I already regret signing on the dotted line. She doesn’t need to know that, along with a lot of other things.
“Outside of your boring job starting soon, how are you? I hope my dad isn’t bothering you too much.”
A fist squeezes my heart until I’m sure it will burst. I don’t know how much more guilt I can handle. “Everything’s good.”
I woke up in his bed this morning. Last night, I fell asleep in his arms. I swallowed his cum. But yeah, everything is peachy.
Christ, how am I supposed to live with this?
There’s noise in the background. Christopher’s voice. It gets muffled—she must put her hand over the phone—but I can hear the tension. He’s being pissy as usual. Even on another continent, he’s acting like a whiny baby.
And he’s the reason she sounds so weird. I feel it in my bones.
“I need to go,” she says in a rush. “I’ll call you soon.”
She hangs up before I can say goodbye. It might be for the best since I’m afraid I’ll end up saying something she doesn’t need to know. Let something stupid slip.
She’s too smart to miss it. So, it’s better if we don’t talk right now, but that can’t last forever. I need my best friend, and it sounds like she needs me too.
What’s taking Caterina so long to get home from work?
I know it’s irrational. One physical encounter, and now I feel like she owes me an explanation for everything. I’m being ridiculous.
The past few days have pushed my self-control to its limits. The constant push-and-pull, the battle between wanting her desperately and wanting what’s best for her, has created unbearable tension between us. It’s maddening to know how easily I can influence her, and I’m fighting not to give in to the urge to have her right there on the kitchen counter whenever we cross paths.
Every moment I resist only makes her occupy more of my thoughts. She’s all I can think about.
Today was her first day at her new job, but there’s no reason for her to stay late. It takes half an hour to get from town at this time of night, yet the beat-up Corolla she drives is still missing.
And I’m ready to rip some fucking heads off.
“Roger!” My bark brings him from his smaller office across the hall in record time. “How many overdue accounts are still on the books?”
He frowns, tablet in hand. “I don’t know off the top of my head.” His finger flies over the screen.
“Go find out. I want a list of names by the end of the day.” Because I want an excuse to hurt somebody. I’m ready to crawl out of my skin, and cracking skulls always does the trick of calming me down. Grinding my molars, the question lingers.What’s taking her so long?
Has she met somebody? Did some douchebag kid offer to take her out and give her the lowdown on office politics? Once Roger’s on his way across the hall, I blow out a shaky breath and stare at the security feed on my screen like it will somehow bring her home. I need her home. I’m obsessed. Why am I so obsessed? Fuck, this is only her first day on the job. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this torture every single day.
My gaze lands on the cell sitting on the desk. I could text her and tell her to come home. She always responds well to being told what to do. Why am I torturing myself?