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“At dinner, at Ragland.” He mentioned the restaurant that was on the other opposite side of the lobby.
“Thanks, but tomorrow is no good for me.”
“Understood. How about you take my number and tell me when a good time for you arrives?”
“I see what you did there.”
“Do you approve?” He smiled as I stood.
“Yes, but I’ll be honest. If I take your number, you’ll never hear from me again. If you’re willing to wait, a good time for me will be in about…” I paused to look down at my belly, quickly doing the math. “Five to six months.”
“Understood and willing. Patience has never scared me.”
“Good. 555-211-1990.”
“Once more.”
“211-1990. Goodnight, Zane.”
Before waiting to find out if he’d copied it correctly or heard me clearly, I made my way out of the bar and toward my room, not bothering to pay. If he was interested in using that number of mine, he’d better handle the small bill himself.
The silence of the elevator was like cold water to the face. Reality hit me and it didn’t hesitate, either, thrusting me into the storm without warning or regard for the exhaustion of my heart. My cell buzzed for the tenth time since I’d left Milo’s home. Taking a look at the screen, I silenced the vibrating with my thumb.
Milo, please, I begged internally.
I was freed from the elevator and let off on the eighteenth floor where the views were immaculate. Upon entering my hotel room, I rushed to remove the dress. Anxiety perched on my chest, making me feel as if I was suffocating with restricted airways and limited oxygen.
Nearly bare, in only my panties and Hermès slides, I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling in deeply and releasing slow breaths. Over and over, I repeated the exercise until the pricking of my skin subsided and the weight of my chest lightened. Just as I managed to gain control of my conscious, my phone vibrated again. Another text appeared on my screen.
Alright. You don’t want to talk. Just let me know you’re good. Let me know you’re okay. Let me know my son is alright.
“I’m not!” I declared, fighting back the tears that blurred my vision.
I failed. Miserably. Pregnancy emotions coupled with pent-up frustration spilled onto the screen of my phone.
Damn you, Milo. I grimaced, spelling out a simple response.
He’s fine,I replied.
I didn’t have it in me to pretend that I was well. I wasn’t. I’d put my pride aside, risking it all to proclaim my love and deepest desires for him, only to find that he was preoccupied and the hard dick that I assumed was because of me was the result of an eventful evening with someone else. I was the furthest from okay.
Before the message he attempted to send replaced the gray bubble, I tossed my phone across the room, into my suitcase where it landed softly. I crawled up the bed, peeling the sheets back, and stretching my legs underneath them. As I pulled the comforter up, my tears soaked the very top, blending with the white and disappearing completely.
THREE
“Are you there?”Jack asked, garnering my attention.
“Uh, yeah. Is that all?”
“We didn’t get a solid vote from you,” he reminded me.
“Sorry. My vote still stands. No.”
“Do you mind elabor—”
“I’ve done so over the last hour in this meeting. My concern is the patient, not the earning potential for the trial.”
“Our concern is the patient as well. That’s the top priority here. We’re all—”
