The bed is comfortable, and I have my pillow and blankets from home, but I can’t sleep.
It’s the same the next night, and again the next.
I’m up and at ’em bright and early on Friday morning after tossing and turning all night, and rather than be the rude guest who wakes the entire house far too early, I grab my laptop. I haven’t been through my email in a week, and I have over seven hundred unread messages to get to.
It all starts with one.
I delete the first few from various networks and partner programs that I subscribe to. I’m not even sure if I still need to be subscribed to them with everything up in the air right now.
I find a few sponsorship offers, and I read them but don’t reply to or delete any of them just yet.
And then my heart stutters to a stop when I spot the name in thefromfield on one of the emails sent recently.
Cooper Noah.
Cooper Noah emailed me? Is this legit, or is this spam from someone who saw the viral video and decided to fuck with my emotions?
I open the email and check the sender’s address before I read the message.
The domain is from the Vegas Heat.
I toss it into a search to make sure it’s legitimately from the organization, and it appears that it is.
I read the email.
Hi Millie,
We never formally met, but I feel like I know you because my wife is a huge fan of your blog. It took me a minute to put it together, but you’re the blogger who’s got my teammate all twisted up over some viral video. Archer is miserable without you, and I thought you should know. He’s too stubborn and stupid to do anything about it, and he has no idea I’m trying to get in touch with you.
If you’d like to talk, feel free to reply to this email or give me a call.
-Cooper
His phone number is at the bottom of the email, and beneath that, he listed Archer’s phone number.
I read it no less than twelve times, tears pinching behind my eyes with each new read.
This is wild. Not only is his wife a fan…but Archer is miserable without me?
I’m miserable without him, too!
What if this is the exact door I need to step through?
I think it just might be, and my heart pounds as I start to dial the number…only to realize that it’s five in the morning in Vegas.
I blow out a breath.
I can’t text him or call him now. Not this early.
And I can’t stay in this bedroom. I’m too antsy. I need to go for a walk or something.
I head out to the kitchen, and Jackie’s already up.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she says. She stretches and yawns.
“What are you doing up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep. You?” she asks.
