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“Ah, crap,” I muttered, when yesterday and all its shittiness came crashing back to me. I dropped the note and rubbed my hands on my face. A sudden desire to not be quite so truthful to Nick washed over me.
I’d had no choice, though. He’d been expecting me to come back to his house with loads of clothes and accessories. And I’d shown up with nothing.
Not even freaking ice cream.
Memories of Nick’s kindness came floating back to me.
How he fed me.
How he watched cheesy, old movies with me.
And most of all, his heart wrenching, beautiful words that he whispered to me last night.
I smiled to myself as I grabbed my phone and texted Nick.
“I’m up.”
Not two seconds later, the phone rang in my hand, making me nearly drop it with surprise. I touched the screen and answered it. “Hi,” I said, my voice sounding crackly and hoarse with unshed sleep still lingering.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?” he asked, sounding way too alert and awake.
“Amazing. I don’t think I moved all night,” I said, raising my left arm and stretching as I leaned backward.
He chuckled on the other end of the phone. “You didn’t. How are you feeling?” he asked and something inside of me twisted. I felt more than a twinge of anxiety at his question.
“I’m better. Sorry for the breakdown. I’ll credit you one extra day, so yesterday won’t count,” I said, making a mental note to call Ilona’s and tell them I wouldn’t be available on the date I’d given them.
Before I fell asleep last night, I’d made up my mind to give Nick a replacement day.
Yesterday was a disaster and he was paying top dollar for a good time.
“That won’t be necessary.”
I felt the beginning of a burning sensation around my heart—and behind my eyes. “Yeah, it is. It’s my fault, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
Nick cleared his throat. “It’s not your fault.”
I took in a deep breath. “It is.”
His voice was louder now, with more of a commanding tone to it. “How those assholes treated you yesterday was wrong. And I intend to rectify that situation. Now, as for you—” his voice trailed off slightly, “be ready in an hour.”
The phone clicked off in my ear before I could respond.
My eyes gazed down at the screen, and I took note of the time.
Then I jumped out of bed and hurried to get ready in time.
“I’m waitingin the driveway. Come out.” Nick texted again.
It just so happened to be his third text in the last half hour.
He’d messaged me when he left his office.
Then again when he’d arrived.
I really had tried to rush.
But when I’d looked out the window and been greeted by a bright, sunny, blue sky—I knew it was a day that called for long, beach curls.
