Page 97 of Dare To Live

There’s been no contact from Eli. No calls, no texts, or voicemails. My mother mentioned he is staying with her in the Hamptons but hasn’t gone into detail.

I’m so fucking confused, and my emotions are a mess. After all his talk about wanting more, I thought I might have heard something from him by now.

I’d promised myself Eli Travers would not become my obsession again, but here I am, unable to stop thinking about him.

“Are you okay?”

I blink and glance at Grace. Her brow is wrinkled, eyes worried.

“Just tired.”

“It’s almost lunch. How about a trip to the café on the corner? We can get out of the building for a while.”

I’m tempted to push her away like I always do, but the walls inside me crack a little. “I like that idea.”

Grace’s eyes widen, and then she smiles. “Just another twenty minutes to go.”

The time drags, taking forever. As soon as it hits one, we are out the door. I catch sight of Monsieur Allaire, who gives me a disapproving stare as we pass his office. Ignoring him, I head to the elevator with Grace.

When we step onto the street, the warm L.A. air washes over me, so different from the cold of New York. We move together along the sidewalk until we reach the café and find a table by the window.

“A few of us in the office have noticed Marcel giving you a hard time.” Grace says. “You’re the only person he doesn’t praise.”

I pick up a paper napkin and twist it between my fingers. “He hasn’t liked me from the moment I started working there.”

“You should talk to HR.”

“They won’t do anything.”

“Why not?”

I smile. “I’ve already tried.”

A waitress appears, and I order a grilled cheese sandwich—comfort food for how I feel.

Since coming back from New York, I’ve been restless and unhappy. It’s as though something has changed, but I’m not sure what it is. Maybe I just need to change my job. I’ve heard nothing from the job application for the fashion house in Milan. Maybe I should look elsewhere.

Would moving across the world fix things anyway?

What if where I’m living isn’t the problem? Maybe it’s just me.

The thought lingers, while Grace chats happily about the designs she’d been working on. But I can’t shake my melancholy mood, and by the time we head back to work, I feel like I have a permanent rain cloud over my head. No messages are waiting for me on my phone when I check it—nothing from Miles or my mom.

Silence from Eli.

I try to lose myself in my designs, but my mind wanders, and I make mistakes. I’ve never been so relieved when the day ends.

“Mademoiselle Gray, where do you think you’re going?”

I pause in the process of gathering my things, and I turn toward Monsieur Allaire. “Home.”

He shakes his head. “Non, non, I need you to stay late.”

“Why?”

A hush falls over the room, and the other designers around me stop to watch.

“You’re behind on your work.” He waves his long, elegant fingers at my desk. “You must make up for the time that you have missed. The collection must be ready on time.”

---