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Setting my half-empty glass of soda on the counter, I unscrew the cap from the tequila and dump enough liquor into my drink to help me forget I went and did the very thing I swore I would not.
Let myself fall in love.
“Oh wow.” Aubree stops on a skid in the entrance to the kitchen and looks down at my hands. “You’re going hard, huh?”
“Just hard enough to make it feel better.”
I glance across my apartment to make sure my front door is closed, then I take out my phone and frown at the missed calls I had no clue came through.
New York.
New York.
New York.
I know the numbers, I know the people who’ve called me, but I’m starving, so I jump over to my food delivery app.
God bless whoever invented an app and made redundant the need to actually speak to people.
Ordering enough for us both to make pigs of ourselves, I work through the steps and leave a tip at the end. I check the delivery window—twenty-five minutes from now—then hit ‘accept all’ and wait as the app charges my credit card.
When I get the confirmation my order has been successful and my food will be on the way soon, I swipe to my missed calls and hit redial while snagging a glass from my cabinet and setting it on the counter for Aubree.
I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear as my call rings on the other end, and dump enough tequila in the new glass to equal probably two shots. Maybe three.
“Doctor Mayet?”
“David?” Frowning, I set the tequila aside and go to the fridge to find something to mix Aubree’s booze with. I find orange juice, and Pepsi. So I set both on the counter and wait.
When Aubree taps the lid of the juice, I toss the soda back into the fridge, catching my phone with one hand when it starts to slide, then pour her juice with the other.
“Uh… hi,” I say into the phone. “Has something happened?”
“Yes. And no.” David somehow makes a smile audible, so I see in my mind the exact way his face moves. The curl of his lips.. “Are you sick of Copeland yet, Mayet? Because we’re missing the hell out of you over here on the East Coast.”
“Ha.”
I finish pouring Aubree’s drink and put the juice away. After sliding the glass across to her, I pick up my own and clink it to hers when she copies.
“It’s been an interesting experience,” I admit to my former colleague. My former friend. My one-time date. “Nothing but action and dead people since I arrived. Is this a professional call or personal?”
“Can’t it be both?” His voice is deep enough, proud enough, that Aubree hears every word… and lifts her brows at his smug response.
She follows me into the living room, and I drop onto the couch, snagging the remote before sitting back. Acting as my shadow, my current colleague plops down beside me and kicks off her shoes before stealing the remote from my hand and pointing it at the television.
“I miss you, Minnie. I want you to come home.”
Scandalized, Aubree’s wide eyes swing my way.
“I am home, Doctor May. Copeland is where I live now, and my work makes me very happy. So if this call is entirely personal and not at all professional, I think I’ll—”
“Masterson wants you back,” he rushes out. “He wants you to resume your position in the New York office and has agreed to pay relocation costs, a signing bonus, and discuss making your salary competitive with your position over there.”
“I’m not interested.” I do my very best to ignore Aubree’s appalled stare. Her complete and utter disinterest in the television. “I left, David, and it wasn’t a ploy to extort more money from my employers.”
“But you liked it here, right?”
“Of course. I have no ill feelings toward New York. But I already told you, this is my home now.”
