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He paused. “Why do you ask?”
“Your office hasn’t even been touched!”
“Rae, I’m telling you. You have nothing to worry about.”
“We move in less than twenty-four hours and there’s not a box in your office. Not a single one.”
“Which is going to be remedied when I get home.”
I sighed. “Why couldn’t you just--”
I pinched the bridge of my nose to try and keep myself under control.
“I know you’re frustrated. And I know you feel overwhelmed right now. But I promise you, I have this more under control than it looks. Okay? Do you trust me?”
I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I trust you.”
“Good. Now, get yourself a glass of wine, take a load off, and I’ll be home with dinner in about an hour and a half. Sound good?”
I can’t have wine. “Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”
“Okay. I’ll be home soon, beautiful. You have my word.”
I didn't want to unload my frustration on him, so I simply hung up. I knew it wasn’t a smart move. I knew it wasn’t mature. But I felt my disappointment mounting. I walked out of his office and back into the main room. I looked at the brightly-colored gift bag sitting on its side on the floor. Cast to the side, like I felt sometimes. I mean, I knew Clint was busy. I knew his self-publishing career had taken off. I knew what he had to go through in order to make it work, too. I mean, he edited his own stuff. Marketed his own stuff. Formatted his own stuff. He kept up his own website and regularly updated his blog followers. Hell, the only thing he outsourced were his book covers. And I knew if he figured out how to do that, he’d do that himself too.
But all I wanted was to spend our last night in this apartment together.
Without having to work so damn hard.
I made myself a cup of tea and sat down. The boxes loomed over me while I sat there. I hated it. I hated that those boxes were there, but Clint wasn’t. I hated that these boxes were here to greet me, but he hadn’t been. And I knew it was stupid. I knew I was being irrational. But that’s how these things worked. Right? I came home with good news, and he was supposed to be here for it!
He hasn’t been home all day, though.
What the hell had he been doing all day?
The longer I sat there, the more angry I became. I finally set down my tea and got up. I picked up a few empty boxes and made my way into his office, determined to get a jumpstart on this bullshit. I grumbled to myself as I packed up books. I blinked back tears of agitation as I stacked file folders on top of one another and made sure everything was saved on his laptop before unplugging it.
The more I packed, the more I felt like I had been set on the backburner.
This isn’t the first time this has happened.
For weeks now, Clint had been working long hours on the weekends. Going off on all these random meetings and staying away for hours. When he was usually holed up in his office, typing his head off, these past few weeks had been different. I mean, how many meetings with his cover designer did he need? How much research did he really have to do?
You don’t think…?
I pushed the thought away. No. No way in hell Clint was cheating. He wasn’t capable of it. But, in some ways, he was. Something else had taken priority over me and this move. Me and the life we had built together. Suddenly, spending weekends with me seemed like a chore. Coming home to me seemed to be getting later and later. Almost like he didn’t want to do it.
“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” I murmured.
That didn’t stop my mind from running away with me, though.
Which did nothing to halt my anger.
6
Clinton
I shook my head as I slipped my key into the door. I knew I was going to have my ass handed to me. I just knew it. It was damn near nine o’clock, and I was just getting home with food in my hands. Food that had grown cold, mind you. I opened the door and braced myself. I readied myself to have to put out the energy to make us a fresh meal this late at night.
