Page 68 of When I Had You

This time, my mouth falls open. “How long has it been?”

“Too long. I was up before dawn and falling into bed at midnight at that last job. There was no time for a social life.”

I smirk. “You don’t have to be social to have sex.”

“True,” she replies with a laugh. “But it’s nice to catch a name.”

She’s laughing when her phone lights up on the console between us. We both glance down. “Ugh. It’s him. My old boss wants me back.” Gripping the steering wheel, she shakes her head. “The new guy can’t get the wheatgrass shot right.”

“Isn’t it just wheatgrass?”

“I always put a few special ingredients in it.”

Although my eyes go wide, I’m not as surprised as I appear. “Should I ask?”

Turning into the parking garage, she replies, “Probably best if you don’t.” With a burst of laughter, she adds, “It’s a few drops of pineapple juice to cut the grass. Pun intended.” She pulls in our assigned spot and cuts the engine.

I trust this woman with my life, but for a split second there, I had my doubts. “Sounds really good actually.”

“Glad you think so. I’m making some for you. We’ve been eating like crap lately. We both need to get premiere-ready.” We get out of the car and slam the doors shut.

“What would I do without you?”

When we walk toward the elevator, she says, “Apparently have multiple orgasms. I think you’re doing just fine without me.”

Later in the night, I want to call Cash, but I know he’s strict with his schedule the night before a race. Miami excluded. But I do text him, so he knows that I’m thinking about him:

Congrats today! I know tomorrow is also going to be amazing.

It takes about two minutes of me staring at the phone, but then I receive a reply:

Thanks. I’m feeling good about tomorrow. I’ll try to call you after the race. Sweet dreams, babe.

Me:

Sweet dreams.

As much as I love our nightly calls and text exchanges, I’m feeling lonely. Sleep is going to be my friend tonight instead of dwelling on the fact that I won’t get to see Cash in person for another week. That is, if I can slip away during the time I’ll be promoting the movie.

* * *

Watching Cash come in fifth and move up in the rankings along with Westcott Racing has me wishing I had someone to celebrate with. I know he won’t see it for a while since he can’t have his phone on him, but I text Cash anyway:

So proud of you! Congratulations!

I also send a congrats to the family group text, letting them know I watched from Vancouver. I get quick replies from most of them. Harbor is celebrating with the crew in the paddock. I want to be there, but being a distraction is not something I want to be responsible for.

Lying on the couch, I watch the reporters scramble to interview the team members and drivers as they get out of their cars. Any flash of Cash has me sitting upright until the interviews die down and the sports channel switches to baseball. No interview with Cash is disappointing, but the happiness I feel for him is like it was my own win. He did amazing today. I want to shout it from the rooftops.

I also don’t want the cops called on me, so I don’t shout. I lie on the couch smiling over my boyfriend’s great performance on the track today instead. I just wish I could be there to celebrate with him.

* * *

Someone knocking on the door startles me awake. Still groggy, I look ahead where night lies on the other side of the sliding glass door. Behind me, the knocking continues.

I have no idea how long I’ve been asleep, but something isn’t right.

I tap my phone to see the time when I stand. 11 p.m. What the hell? Who would be here at that hour? And more importantly, is it safe, or should I call the police?

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