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In the time I’ve spiraled out of control, the elevator has reached the first floor, and Quincy has pulled up an email on his phone. “From Axel Hitchins. ‘Spoke with Orlie, directed me to you to get my event on the calendar’.”
“That asshole,” I fume as we march out of the elevator. Axel must have taken my “maybe” and ran with it. Trying to sneak it on my schedule. I’m going to have to give him shit for that the next time I see him. If I ever see him again. Given the way I’m avoiding all of the Solace clan, it’s definitely possible I won’t see him until the next eternity. “That asshole!”
“Ohhkay, boss, don’t worry. We can get you out of it no problem, I’ll just send off a quick email.”
“Yeah, you do that,” I mutter.
I run my hand over my face.
Deep breath. Focus.
I’ve got a big day ahead of me. Meeting with a new client, helming the standup with Wynters Singapore, and, you know what? Instead of this Halloween Grand Opening whatever the fuck, I’m going to go for a long workout at the gym.
That will get my mind off things.
The gym doesnotgetmy mind off things.
I’m thinking nonstop about Kira. While I’m doing squats, when I’m on the rower when I’m jogging on the treadmill.
I wonder if she’s at the bash, dressed in a costume that I’m assuming will hide her budding bump. God, it’s been about four months. She’s probably showing by now.
Unless…maybe she’s not even pregnant anymore. I wouldn’t blame her for that. The way I reacted certainly wouldn’t instill confidence in someone who has just realized they’re pregnant by accident.
That breaks my heart even further.
I could have been a part of things if I hadn’t jumped to conclusions about her.
And now…
“Your form is terrible.”
I look up from the leg press at my dad. His hair is sweaty, held back in a bright green band.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just finished up hot yoga.”
I wince at the thought of my father in his stretch pants. “My form can’t be terrible when I’m not even using the machine.”
Dad crosses his arms over his chest and he rolls his head to the side. “You’ve got something on your mind.”
“Always.”
“And I’m determined to find out what it is. Not letting you get away with that stupid ‘work’ excuse like usual.”
I half-smile. Guess my excuse has always been just that to my dad: an excuse. He’s always seen right through me.
“Thanks for letting me take Singapore alone today,” I say as I push myself up from the machine.
“I heard it went great,” Dad says.
I grab a dry towel from the stack in the corner and start to wipe my arms clean of sweat.
“I wasn’t at all surprised.”
My heart tightens, warmth blooming through my chest. “Really?”
Dad chuckles at first, but when he realizes how earnestly I asked that, his smile breaks. “Of course, Orlando.”
