CHRISTOPHER
I exhale heavily as I stare at my computer screen. I glance at my phone as it sits on the desk. I should call Hayden.
No.
You’ve called her already today.
I go back to trying to focus. The numbers all jumble on my screen.
Just a quick call.
No.
For fuck’s sake, I’m not going to be able to focus until I know that she’s okay.
I dial her number, and it rings out.
Hmm . . .
I text her.
Hi babes,
What’s doing?
I put my phone to the side and look back to my computer screen. She’ll call me back when she can.
I get back to work, and twenty minutes later I pick up my phone again. Why hasn’t she called me back? I go to call her again . . . Just stop it.
Fuck.
I’m getting nothing done around here because I’m worrying about Hayden all the time.
Focus.
She says she’s fine. I should believe her. I mean, how could she not be? She has the whole of London at her fingertips.
Of course she’s fine.
My gut is telling me that something is off with her, but perhaps I’m looking for something that isn’t there. I get back to work, and sure enough, ten minutes later I pick up my phone.
Call me . . . damn it.
Jameson and Tristan saunter into my office. “You ready to go to lunch?”
I exhale heavily. Where has the morning gone? I’ve literally achieved nothing.
Fuck. I need to focus.
My brothers are in London for the bimonthly board meeting.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Tristan frowns.
“Nothing.” I stand. “Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later we are seated in a bar close to the office. We’ve ordered, and I’m drinking mineral water.
“Not having a beer?” Jameson asks.
“No. I’ve got too much to do.” I drag my hand down my face. “Ever since I got back, I’m achieving next to nothing.”
Tristan smiles as he crunches a piece of ice from his water. “The vacation is officially over. Back to the real world, hey?”
“It’s not even work; it’s Hayden. The paps are giving her hell, and she hates the weather here.”
“The weather?” Tristan frowns.
“It’s pretty fucking dreary here lately. The sun is a special event ever since she arrived.” I shrug. “I keep thinking that she’s going to get used to it and adjust . . . but between you and me, I’m not actually sure she is.”
“You going to move out of the city?” Jameson asks.
“No. Fuck that.” I screw up my face. “I love the city. I hate being out of town, and besides, I asked her to give me three months before we do anything. There’ll be times in my life that I need to live in a city, and it may not just be here. It could be anywhere. She needs to know what she’s signed up for. I don’t want to go to all the trouble to move and then it doesn’t work out anyway.”
They both frown and glance at each other.
“What?” I snap.
“She’s on a three-month trial?” Tristan frowns. “Or are you?”
“Both, I guess, but that’s how long I have to work long hours in London. After that we can discuss what we’re going to do long term, but at this stage, with Elliot away, there’s no way around it.”
“And then with the next two weekends . . . ,” Jameson adds.
“What about the next two weekends?” I frown.
“You’ve got the Paris team in town next weekend for training, and then the week after that we have a conference in Germany. So you technically won’t have a day off at home for twenty-one days.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. Having someone depend on you is seriously a nightmare.”
“Buy her a puppy.” Jameson shrugs.
“Have a baby.” Tristan smiles into his drink. “Then she’ll be too exhausted to give a fuck if you are dead or alive . . . let alone where she lives.”
“Not a bad plan, actually.” I chuckle.
“Or if your dick has fallen off,” Jameson mutters dryly.
“True story,” Tristan agrees.
“Fuck that, then.”
Our lunch arrives, and we eat in silence for a while.
“What are you going to do?” Jameson asks.
I shrug. “Nothing. She’ll be okay, but if the sun would just come out for one minute, it would be very fucking helpful.”
My phone beeps with a text. It’s from Hans.
Hi Mr. Miles,
Not sure if I am overstepping.
I thought I would let you know that Hayden
has had a bad day.
I frown and text back.
What makes you say that?
A picture bounces back. It’s a photo of Hayden in a park. She’s sitting on the grass. Tears are running down her red face. She looks so lost and so forlorn.
So . . . unlike the happy Hayden that I fell in love with.
Her sadness seeps through the image, and I get a lump in my throat as I stare at it.
I stand. “I’ve got to go.”
“What’s wrong?” They both frown.
I hold my phone up and show them the photo, and their faces fall as they stare at it. “Fuck . . . ,” Tristan whispers. “That doesn’t look good.”
“You think?” I throw my napkin on the table in disgust. “Bye, I’ll call you later.”
I march out of the restaurant on a mission. I call Hans.
“Hello, Mr. Miles.”
“Where are you?”