Say Nothing... (The Speak Series Book 2) (27 page)

Leaning over him, I reach for his phone on the nightstand.

"What time is it?" he mumbles, still half asleep.

"Four."

"Shit,” he says springing out of bed.

"What time is the car coming for you?" We did little talking after coming to bed.

"Four thirty."

"Okay, go jump in the shower. What can I do to help?" Everything seems to be packed and I noticed some clothes laid out before we went to bed.

"Maybe some coffee. I just need to pack my toothbrush and razor and I'm done." He gives me a sweet kiss and runs off to take a shower.

Twenty minutes and one coffee-filled travel mug later, we're standing at the door as the driver takes his bags. I promised myself I wouldn't cry, at least not in front of him. I did enough of that last night. I have no words, so I just pull him into a tight hug, burying my face into his chest.

"I'll call you before I board." I nod, and he kisses the top of my head.

"I'll be back before you know it. You won't even notice that I'm gone." He wraps a hand around my neck and rests his forehead on mine.

"I love you." Unable to use my words, I press a kiss to his lips. He seems to be struggling just as much as I am. Pulling back to meet his eyes, I put on a brave face.

"I love you too. Now, go kick some ass. I'll be fine." He smiles, presses one more kiss to my lips, and walks out the door.
Let the depression commence.

There's no point in even trying today; I look like shit. I spent the hour after Ben left feeling sorry for myself and crying. He must have sensed the breakdown because he ended up texting me instead of calling as he said he would, which in turn only made me cry more.

My eyes are red and puffy, and my dark circles are now a deep purple. All the concealer in the world wouldn't help me today. Thinking about what to do with my hair took too much energy, so it’s currently piled high on top of my head in some semblance of a bun.

Quitting my life is high on my list of priorities for the day. So much so that if I didn't have a fear of losing my job, I would have called out sick and stayed in my pajamas. Dragging my sorry ass from the car through the parking structure makes me irritable. Even the beautiful view from my office lacks the same appeal it had just a few days ago. Large black sunglasses hang on the edge of my nose in an attempt to hide the disaster that is my face.

"Did he leave already?" Natalie asks. I nod as I place my purse in my desk drawer and take a seat.

"Do you feel like talking about it?" I shake my head because if I attempt to have this conversation, I'm afraid I'll end up in the fetal position under my desk. I made a deal with myself on the drive in. I'm allowing myself one day of this pity party.

"Okay, if you need anything, I'm here?" She doesn't wait for a response this time and I'm grateful she's starting to get the hint.

Keeping busy has been hard today, especially when the clock seems to be moving at a snail’s pace. I swear it's been nine thirty for the past two hours. I've proofed the same paragraph ten times while willing the small clock in the corner of my computer screen to move.

Only two hours until his layover in New York, I tell myself tearing my eyes away from the clock.

"Ari, can I see you in my office, please."
Oh, shit.

I nervously stand and head to Mr. Benton's office. I smooth my hands over my shirt and determine there's no point in straightening it out; he can clearly see I'm a hot mess through the glass walls of his office. Now that I think about it, he's probably noticed me staring off into space the whole morning
. Double shit.

"Please come in and take a seat.” I enter his office and sit in one of the available chairs in front of his desk.

"I want you to take the afternoon off." My eyes widen and my mouth opens and shuts a few times in an attempt to ask him why. He raises a finger before I can find the words, and I shut it allowing him to continue.

"There's something going on with you today. You're distracted, and your work today has been sloppy."

"Are you firing me?" My voice comes out as a whisper. The knot forming in my throat is not allowing me to speak any louder.

"No, I'm not firing you," he says with a laugh. Hot tears run down my face for what seems like the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours.

"I'm sorry. Is that what you thought?" I nod.

He hands me a tissue and I wipe my face, completely mortified that I'm having a mental breakdown in his office.

"We all have our off days and today happens to be yours. I'm glad I was able to witness it actually. I was starting to think you were super human." He gets me to laugh.

"Go on, get some rest, and enjoy your weekend. Natalie offered to help us out if we need anything."

"Thank you, Mr. Benton. I promise to be back to normal on Monday."

Closing the door behind me, I take the walk of shame back to my desk. That could have gone so much worse; I really need to get myself together. I mouth a thank you over to Natalie as I gather my things to go. She smiles and I wait for her to finish a call before leaving.

"I owe you one. Drinks on me next week."

Her eyes light up. "I'm going to hold you to that. Go on, get out of here," she says, before picking up another call.

The forty-minute drive home does nothing to lighten my mood. I stopped at the store and picked up all of the pity party essentials. Four bottles of wine, check, two gallons of rocky road, check, check. My sweatpants and one of Ben's shirts is what I plan on living in until it's time to go back to work on Monday.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text as I make my way into the apartment. Worried that I missed a call from Ben, I drop everything on the table and quickly dig my phone out of my purse.

Unknown: Please call me if you need anything. XO A

Is he serious? Why in the hell would I call him if I needed anything? I begin to type out a response, the stress of the day and exhaustion spurring my anger.
The damn nerve.

Me: Stop contacting me.

I wrote and erased three different messages. Each one was longer than the next, but he didn't deserve my niceties. He didn't deserve my sugar-coated version of “fuck off.” So I went with polite and direct. Thankfully, he doesn't respond.

After unpacking the groceries, I change into my comfy sweats and one of Ben's t-shirts. Pouring myself an extra-large glass of sangria, I sit on the couch like a lovesick teenager waiting for the phone to ring.

Sleep was almost nonexistent last night, so I close my eyes as soon as we pull away from the curb. Ari's sweet smell clings to my shirt, and I let it engulf me as I doze off to the image of her wrapped around me. I'm jolted awake when the back passenger door opens.

"We're here, sir." Glancing at the clock on the dash, I notice the time.
Shit.

"Why are we so late?" I ask, quickly sliding out of the car in a panic. My flight leaves in twenty-five minutes.

"I'm sorry, sir. There was an accident on the freeway."

He nervously wheels my bags over to check-in. Thankfully, there are only three people in front of me, and they seem to be moving quickly. I make it through security with ten minutes to spare.

Sitting in my seat breathless and fully awake, I realize I never called Ari. I'm able to shoot off a quick text just as the flight attendant advises us to turn off our electronic devices.

Five hours later, I anxiously make my way off the plane. I have a one-hour layover before my connecting flight. It’s just enough time to stretch my legs, grab a quick bite to eat, and call my girl. Making myself comfortable in front of the connecting gate, I dial her number.

"Ben." She sounds relieved as her sweet voice comes through the line.

"It's me. I'm so sorry I didn't get a chance to call you."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I fell asleep on the way to the airport, and when the driver woke me up, I only had twenty-five minutes to get to my gate."

"Oh, shit."

"Exactly."

"So did you make your flight?" She sounds hopeful, and I almost wish I hadn't either.

"Yeah, I'm at JFK waiting for the connection."

"Oh." Her voice softens, and I notice the sadness in it.

"Are you still at work?"

"No, they sent me home."

"What? Why?"

"I screwed up a few things and was staring into space like a zombie. They basically gave me a mental health day. I don't blame them."

She's taking this a lot worse than she let on this morning. My girl is an expert at hiding things, and I don't know why this surprises me. God, I'd feel like shit if she lost her job because of me.

"Promise me you're going back on Monday."

"Of course, I'll be fine." She slurs that last word.

"What are you doing right now?"

"I'm at home wearing your shirt and drinking."

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"Nope," she says giggling.

"Flight 4404 to London is now boarding," announces over the loudspeaker.

"You better go." Her voice is humorless.

"Ari, listen to me. Please get something in your system besides alcohol. I'll worry, baby. Promise me."

"I promise," she chokes out.

"I land in about six hours. I'll call you as soon as I can. I love you."

"I love you too."

My hand grips the phone, and I listen to her breathe a few more seconds until she ends the call. The only solace I have is that she's home. The knot in my stomach won't go away until I know she's okay. My uncle is only down the street. She'll kill me for sending him over there, but I don't really have many choices. Maybe he can just drive by and check to see if her car is there. I never ask him for anything, so it's the least he can do. I quickly send off a text, and he responds almost immediately.

Amos: Of course.

I'm pacing the floor reeling from our last exchange.

Ari: Stop contacting me.

I've read and re-read that text over a hundred times in the last two hours. Three words—that's what I've been reduced to. After the years I've thought about her, checked on her, and made sure she was okay.
Three fucking words.