Page 35 of Dust Storm

I just needed … something. Reassurance maybe?

This was outside my wheelhouse. I had been stripped of my regular responsibilities and Tripp had shouldered them in the aftermath.

It made sense, I guess. He was my boss.

Lillian’s people probably wanted someone more senior from the firm to clean up the situation.

Although it was her fault. Not mine.

I shut down the computer and gathered my things. It was just after eight, which meant Christian’s kids would hopefully be in bed.

Tripp had just gotten busy. That had to be it.

My phone rang, and I dropped the files in my hands as I lunged for it.

“Hello?”

Static crackled as I caught my breath.

“Sorry for calling so late,” Tripp said over the laughter in the background. “Dinner really got away from us, but you know how things are over here. I don’t think we started eating until 10:30.”

“Right. Yeah,” I said as I loosened my bun and ran my fingers through my hair. “How are you? How are things in Spain?”

Selfishly, I wanted him to ask how I was doing, but it was easier to let Tripp talk about himself first.

He laughed. “You would have loved it over here. Bummer you couldn’t do the trip.”

Bummer? It was a bummer that I had my career ripped away from me? It was a bummer that I was exiled to motherfucking Texas? It was a bummer that my fiancé was representing my client while my name was being dragged through the mud? It was a bummer that I had been put on ice and wasn’t supposed to defend myself?

I choked down the cocktail of rage and humiliation that hung in my throat. “I miss you.”

Or at least I thought I did.

I was supposed to miss him. To miss my life. To miss the bells and whistles that I was supposed to love.

I was stressed, uncertain, and insecure. I wasn’t reacting to anything well because of it.Especially Christian’s kindness.

But in the last twenty-four hours I had done something that I hadn’t done in a long time.

I breathed.

“What was that?” Tripp asked.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear me. He just wasn’t listening.

“I said I miss you.”

“Oh. Yeah. I miss you too.”

My fingernails bit into my palm, leaving shallow crescents in my skin. “You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, uh—well—dinner’s wrapping up. The wine over here is great.”

By my guess, Christian would sic his dog on me at the ass crack of dawn again, so I wrapped it up. “When can we talk about this?”

“About what? The gig in Texas? I thought I told you to report to Mike?”

Whereas Tripp was the head of public relations for individual clients, Mike McDaniels was his business development counterpart.

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