Page 85 of The Overtime Persuasive

Tripp:

Still prettier than you.

Rolling my eyes, I type beneath it.

Want to get on the ice this week? Work on timing and zone exits.

I sit for what feels like an extraordinary amount of time, which in reality was probably only two minutes, before my phone lights up.

Tripp

…

Tripp

...

Well, if I thought he was going to edit his responses I’d have kept the invite to myself.

Tripp

Sure.

I release a breath. That took a long time to type out four letters. I start to type back a snappy response, but another message arrives.

Tripp

I’ll meet you, but only if you finally tell me what the hell it is that I did to you.

I stare at his question for what could be roughly five minutes, or exactly 5 seconds. Then I press and hold the message and add a thumbs-up beneath it.

Not an answer, but a gentleman’s agreement to give him one. When I back out of our conversation, Eva’s name is waiting above his. This time, I tap it.

Our messages open, and my thumb hovers over the call button. I could tell her I texted Tripp. That I heard what she said, and I’m trying.

But beneath all of that is a much simpler truth.

I miss her. I saw her only a few hours ago, and I already miss her.

My thumb remains over the call button for another second before I lock the phone and set it facedown on the passenger seat.

The screen goes dark.

The ache for her doesn’t.

CHAPTER 20

EVA

The cameras begin flashing before the car comes to a complete stop. No one is waiting outside the Whitmore Hotel on a Wednesday night because they heard I sell excellent candles.

They’re here for Dad.

Someone must have caught wind that he’s having dinner downstairs instead of inside his suite. Either way, there are six photographers clustered behind the hotel’s brass barriers when my driver pulls beneath the awning.

I check my lipstick in the darkened window and remind myself to smile. It’s been a while since I had to play the part of James William’s daughter, but I know how to do it and do it well.

The door opens.