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“You don’t seem happy about my choice of housekeeper, sir,” Mary continued, pausing to fold her hands together. “I can find you someone else if Ms. Booth is unsuitable.”
“No, she’s fine. There are just some scheduling issues we need to work through.”
Mary stood up straighter and straightened her back. “I can take care of whatever issues there are, sir.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mary. Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need your help.”
Mary nodded and let the door click shut behind her.
For the rest of the day, I tried to bury myself in work, alternating between making phone calls and responding to emails. Halfway through the day, I made my way downstairs to the server room and did a survey myself, nodding to myself when I saw that everything was in working order. When I was done, I made my way back to the office and paced.
I hated not knowing what was happening.
Or why Rachel hadn’t made it to lunch.
I kept looking over at the phone on my desk, expecting to see her name light up the screen. Unfortunately, it remained quiet. With an exhale, I turned my phone face up so it was facing the ceiling and checked the volume. After assuring myself it was working, I sat back down behind the desk and crossed one ankle over the other.
Why wasn’t she calling me?
This felt a little too much like how I felt after our night together.
In the weeks after our night, I’d pined after her, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Every date and every restaurant reminded me of her. It had driven me crazy, and all those years later, I was surprised to find that she still had the same effect on me.
I didn’t know what it was about her that had me so bothered.
All I knew was that having finally found her, I was reluctant to let her go.
After five years, it wasn’t a coincidence that Rachel had been hired as my housekeeper. While I wasn’t the type of person to leave things to fate or chance, preferring to make my own way in the world, I wanted to believe we were brought together again for a reason.
Something greater than the two of us.
And I needed to know what it was.
At the end of the day, when the sun dipped below the horizon, Mary came in to say goodbye. I waited until she was gone before taking out the bottle of whiskey I kept hidden in my desk drawer and poured myself a generous amount. I drank another glass before switching off my laptop and shoving it into my bag.
In the elevator, I held the phone up to my face and stared at Rachel’s name.
A short while later, I got into the car and set the phone down on the seat next to me. Her name kept staring up at me, taunting me until I turned the phone back over. I spent the entire ride home telling myself that I had to wait to call her. Not only had Rachel made it clear that she didn’t remember me, but she also seemed reluctant to get to know me now.
As much as I hated it, there was nothing I could do about it.
Except prove to her that I was a man worth knowing.
When the car pulled up outside my building, I was filled with a renewed sense of purpose and vigor. On the elevator ride upstairs, I scoured through my emails until I found the one Marysent with Rachel’s resume. Once I stepped off the elevator, I skimmed through the information and stopped at her address. With a smile, I opened the door to my apartment, relief flooding me.
If Rachel couldn’t come to me, I would go to her.
I needed to know the truth about our night together and get my answers, once and for all. Even if it meant confronting the woman who broke my heart five years ago and had no memory of me right now. With a grunt, I stumbled into my bedroom, peeled off my clothes, and left them in a heap on the floor.
I threw myself, face first, onto the mattress, drew the covers up to my chin, and closed my eyes.
All of my dreams were of Rachel in the restaurant smiling at me, in the clubhouse flirting with me through hooded eyes, and in the hotel room, sprawled on her back and staring at me through hungry eyes. When I woke up the next morning, I could almost smell her perfume on my skin.
In the shower, I kept seeing her face inches from mine, and it made my stomach twist in knots. By the time I came out, the bathroom was filled with steam, and I had a bad taste in the back of my mouth. Slowly, I made my way back into the bedroom, with only a towel around my waist, and stood in front of the closet.
I lingered over my cup of coffee before pulling up her number on my phone and frowning at the address on my screen. Then I made a phone call to my driver, who was waiting downstairs. In the elevator, I resisted the urge to check my reflection in the mirror, knowing it wasn’t going to help.
In the car, I stared out the window and went over what I wanted to say.
