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Pressing redial, he tried her cell phone again. Like his previous attempt, it rang several times before going to voice mail.
Bloody hell. He threw his phone onto the passenger seat. Was it possible she just didn’t have any cell service on the train? Maybe she wasn’t really avoiding his calls, he reasoned, navigating the busy New York City streets. Right, and pigs can fly.
Thanks to a rainstorm, the ride to Callie’s took longer than usual. Finally, sometime after three in the morning, Dylan pulled into the driveway behind her building. He fought to keep his worry and fear in check as he banged on her apartment door, not caring if he woke her neighbors. Something had upset her enough to send her running home. He needed to know what that was. At the same time, he was pissed she hadn’t bothered to tell him she was leaving.
Like his many phone calls and text messages, his knock went unanswered. “It’s me, Callie! Open the door! I know you’re home. I can see the light on inside.” He pounded again, this time a little harder.
The outside light went on, and she opened the door for him. Soaked to the bone, he moved into the tiny kitchen where Callie backed up till she leaned against the counter. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying, and she stood with her arms crossed, hugging her body.
“What are you doing here?” It was the first thing she said to him. Dylan thought it was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard. She’d run out on him and hopped a train. What had she thought he would do when he discovered her gone? Go out for a beer?
He moved to stand in front of her. “Why do you think I’m here?” What the hell was wrong with her? This wasn’t the Callie he’d come to know.
Relax, Talbot. Getting upset isn’t going to help anything.
“I went to talk with Phillips, and when I got back you were gone.” Dylan tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I tried calling, but you didn’t answer your phone. I sent you two text messages too.” He knew she had to hear the anger creeping into his voice, but he couldn’t do anything about it. “I was worried.”
“Worried? About what?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “That I would tell someone I was Warren Sherbrooke’s daughter?”
Of all the things she could have said, this was the last he expected. “What? No. What are you talking about? Where did you get that idea?”
“I heard you,” she said, her voice cracking. “You didn’t have to sleep with me to keep me from going to the press.” She wiped a tear off her cheek. “All you needed to do was ask me. I would’ve told you that.”
Shit, she knows. How was he going to defuse this situation? Obviously, she’d overheard his conversation with Phillips. Dylan raked a hand through his wet hair as he moved toward her, but stopped when she stepped away, putting more space between them again.
“Maybe you should add acting to your resume, Dylan. You’re very good at it.”
Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled. He knew his silence was damning, yet he didn’t know how to explain. He couldn’t deny what she’d heard. Still, he hadn’t been acting either.
“Let me explain. Please,” he pleaded. “Phillips was worried about what you might do before Warren made a formal announcement. He asked me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you were happy.”
Dylan moved toward the counter again. He only wanted to grab a towel to wipe the rain from his face, yet Callie again moved farther away. Her insistence on keeping distance between them cut him deep.
“And you felt you just had to go along with him.”
“If I hadn’t, Phillips would have found someone else to do it.” His explanation sounded so cold even to him. He could only imagine how horrible it must sound to her.
Callie moved to the door and yanked it open. “Please leave.” Her voice was soft and cracked with emotion. “And next time you see Mr. Phillips, make sure you tell him he has nothing to worry about. I won’t tell a soul Warren is my father.”
He didn’t want to leave. Not like this. “Callie, yes I agreed to help Phillips, but I do—”
“I don’t want to hear it, Dylan. Just go,” she said, interrupting him.
Just leave. If that was what she really wanted, there was no point in him staying. Without another word, he walked back out into the pouring rain.
Leaning against the closed door, Callie gave into the tears she’d been holding back. Gut-wrenching sobs racked her body. Slowly, she slid down to the floor.
How could she have been so stupid? She should have known something was up. Men like Dylan Talbot didn’t fall for women like her. Maybe in movies they did, but not in the real world.
Lucky nudged her with his nose as if to comfort her. Hugging the dog close, Callie sat and cried till no more tears would come. Physically and emotionally exhausted, she stood and headed to her bedroom. Right now, she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and block all thoughts of Dylan from her mind, but the minute she saw the neatly made bed, memories of their time together in it hit her head-on like a freight train.
I can’t sleep in here tonight. Callie grabbed a pillow and headed back to the living room. However, even this room contained painful memories. She could vividly picture them sitting in here eating ice cream and listening to music that night after the baseball game.
“Unless I plan on sleeping in the bathroom tonight, I am just going to have to suck it up.” Callie tossed her pillow onto the couch. Every room in the apartment except the bathroom contained memories of her time with Dylan. Plopping down on the couch, she forced her eyes shut and prayed for a dreamless rest.
***
Why were they playing that song at the fundraiser? It seemed like an odd choice of music for this event.
