Page 91 of More Than Words

“This isn’t all going to be okay. He’s gone.” Shaking my arm free from him, I resumed my pacing. “Sam has his phone, and he left by himself. Are we really going to hope that the two guys we sent after him are magically going to appear with him before he needs to leave for the airport in the morning?”

“Yeah, I think that’s exactly what we’re hoping for at this point. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“God, you’re so fucking frustrating. Do you ever take anything seriously?” His brow pinched; his expression stunned as I ranted at him. “You’re not even fazed by this. I don’t know if I can be around you right now.”

“Is,” he sighed, trying to reach forward to grasp my wrist, but my throat tightened. My stomach twisted while I covered my mouth and bolted the other way down the hallway.

He followed behind me, catching me by the shoulders as I tried to yank open the outer door to the bathroom. “You alright?”

Heaving, I pushed around him, dropping to my knees in the closest stall, the contents of my stomach emptying into the toilet in front of me.

Adrian knelt behind me, gathering the hair that’d fallen out of my bun away from my face. “Babe, you’re burning yourself out. We can’t change what happened, but you’ve gotta calm down. All this stress can’t be good for you. You can barely keep your eyes open half the time after work. And you’re up before dawn to work on your laptop.”

“Because I have to be,” I whispered, pulling a few sheets of toilet paper loose and wiping my mouth before I let him pull me back into his chest.

“No, you don’t. You need to let me help. Let the people at the office help. I know Sloane offered to divide up some of your open manuscripts to lighten your load. Let her. You’ve gotta stop trying to do everything yourself.”

My lips quivered, tears springing to my eyes when he kissed my temple, not even bothered that we were sitting on the floor of a hotel bathroom a foot away from a toilet full of my vomit.

“Let’s go home and get some sleep. We can come back early tomorrow and figure things out. Sam and Kristine will get Chase ready, and even though I don’t really know them, we need to trust Emory and Nathan will sort out tracking down Evan.”

“But what if—“

“We’re going home,” he told me, voice firm as he pulled me up from the floor, helping me wipe my face and wash out my mouth at the sink before he led me back to the ballroom to gather our things.

He was quiet as he drove back to my apartment building, holding my hand tightly on the center console.

“You’re going to bed when we get inside, and I’ll wake you up at seven so we can get to the hotel in plenty of time.”

“But…”

He shook his head as he parked the car, disentangling our fingers and holding his hand in front of my chest. “Phone. You’re done for the night.”

“You can’t just—“

“For fuck’s sake, Isobel. You got yourself so worked up that you literally made yourself sick. Take a fuckin’ break. Give me the phone. It’s not a question. And we both know I’ll take it from you if I have to.”

Defeated, I pulled it out of my purse, setting it in his open palm as my lip quivered.

“I’m going to run you a bath and you’re going to soak in some of that girly bubble bath you like. I’m going to make you a snack, and then you’re going to bed.”

“But…”

He didn’t let me finish, reaching down to release my seatbelt before he climbed out of the car, walking around the hood with purposeful strides and pulling my door open.

“No arguing.”

Quietly following him into the building after he punched my code in the door, I tried to let everything go. He was right. I was running myself into the ground, and I couldn’t keep living like this.

By the time he unlocked my apartment door, my chest was tight, and my eyes had pooled with tears. Something had to give, and I knew what it was.

Adrian placed our bags on the bench by the front door, leaving me to take off my coat while he headed toward my bedroom. I heard the tub running as I kicked off my heels, reaching up to pull the pins out of my hair. My head ached from my bun, and my temples throbbed as I numbly headed to find Adrian, undressing as I went.

“Come here,” he whispered as I appeared in the doorway in my underwear.

Wrapped in his strong arms, I let the tears fall, not knowing how to talk to him about what I’d decided I needed to let go.

The next morning, as we drove back to the hotel, I stared out the window. He still hadn’t given my phone back, but I had the sinking suspicion things were still a mess.

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