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The concept is so ludicrous to me that I almost laugh.
My phone was charged enough that I was able to get two text messages sent to her along with a call. That went straight to voicemail, so I rattled off a message about needing to talk to her immediately. I could hear the desperate plea in my voice. I didn’t give a shit.
I love her, and every second that passes without her knowing that is a second too long.
I knock on the apartment door and take a step back.
The sound of silence greets me, so I knock a second time. It’s louder and more forceful, and it speaks to my impatience.
An audible sigh of relief escapes me when I hear footsteps on the other side of the door.
I don’t have a speech ready. I haven’t rehearsed what I want to say to Carrie.
I’m going to speak from the heart and tell her what I’m feeling and that it was Milo in the hotel suite with Nia, not me.
I need Carrie to understand that there isn’t another woman on the face of this earth that I want to fuck.
I hear the lock turning before the door flies open.
I curse inwardly when I see Posey in front of me.
“Hey, boss,” she greets me. “Are you here to see the final masterpiece?”
“Where’s Carrie?” I blurt out as I brush past her.
“It’s nice to see you, Posey.” She giggles.
Looking around the main living area for any hint that Carrie is here, I shake my head and ask the question again. “Where is Carrie?”
“Not here,” she finally answers. “I’ve been here most of the day and haven’t seen her.”
Fuck.
I thread my fingers through my hair, tempted to pull it out from the roots. The physical pain of that may mask the roaring pain that has settled inside of me.
“I wish to hell I had Telford’s number,” I mumble.
“I have it,” she says. “Do you want it?”
My phone is barely hanging on at five percent battery, but I need to talk to her best friend, so I get her to call out the number for me.
Tel answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Telford, it’s Rook Thorsen.”
“Oh, hey, hi,” he says, surprise tainting his tone. “How are you?”
Pleasantries take time, and I don’t have any of that to spare, so I skip past it. “I’m looking for Carrie.”
“Me too.” He sighs. “I’ve been trying to reach her for more than an hour. I’ve come up empty every time.”
I should find hope in that because I would have expected that Telford would be her go-to after what happened at the hotel, but it only concerns me more.
Where the fuck is she?
“Brooklyn,” I mutter.
“Brooklyn?” he repeats. “You think she went home? What’s going on, Rook? Why the panic to talk to her?”
