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“Iwas expecting to hear from my boss,” she said. “Ijust had a meeting with the mayor.She’sbeen badgering me for a report.”
“Badgering?Isn’tthat why you’re there?”
“Yesbut . . .”Shetook a deep breath. “Everythingokay?”
“Rememberthe huge accountIwas trying to land?”
Howcould she forget?Crazylate nights in the office, nonstop phone conferences.
“Iclosed the deal!”Hesounded ecstatic.
“That’sterrific!Congratulations!”
“Iwas hoping we could celebrate, together.It’sa holiday weekend.Noway your boss expects you to work.”
“Um—”
Peteradded, “Itook the liberty of buying you a ticket.Youshould arrive inLaGuardiain the early afternoon.Wecan grab a romantic dinner atFuegoMundo.”
“Youwhat?”
Silence.
Lilyknew it was her place to fill the void, tell him she would return for a few days, rejoice with him.Butthe words wouldn’t come.
“Youwon’t come,”Petersaid, solemnly, all the joy sucked out of his voice.
“I’mreally sorry.Ihave too much going on at the moment.”Then, “Don’tforgo the reservation.Iknow how hard it is to score one atFuegoMundo.MaybeRaymondcan go with you,” she suggested, referring to a partner atPeter'sfirm and one of his few male friends. “Wecan celebrate whenIget back.”
“InSeptember,”Petersaid, almost to himself.
“Right.”Ifanyone could understand putting career ahead of one’s personal life, it wasPeter.
LilyheardPetercough.Then, “Ican't do this anymore,Lily.”
Sheclosed her eyes. “Whatare you saying?”
“Ineed more than this.Ideserve more.”
Shecouldn't disagree.Shehad frequently felt likewise.
Along pause.
“Weshould take a break,”Petersaid.
Thingswere going downhill so fast. “Peter?—”
“Goodbye,Lily.”
Thenext thing she heard was dead air.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Onthe morning of theFourth,Wyattshowed up exactly on time, trying to ignore the butterflies that had recently taken residence in the pit of his stomach.
Thisis not a date, he told himself, stepping into the hotel lobby.AlargeAmericanflag draped the space above the fireplace.Hepulled the phone from his pocket and shot a text toLily.
Yourchariot awaits
