Page 39 of Her Holiday Heartthrobs

As much as I tried not to read into it this morning—after everything that happened last night, the longer I go without hearing from her, the less I can stand it.

Eli shows up like he’s having an equally hard time, and he sinks into one of the seats across from my desk.

Our phones chime at the same time, and we both check with the same speed.

Everything’s fine. I’ll be in Monday.

That’s it? Everything is obviously not fine.

Eli’s dark expression mirrors my feelings back at me. He wipes a hand down his face. “Did we fuck this up?”

I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. “I have no idea.”

But I need to find out. I can’t go through this again. Go another four years without her. I stand abruptly, and Eli raises his brow at me.

“I can’t sit around here anymore today. I’m going to bring the rest of my work home.”

Eli doesn’t move an inch. “Mm-hmm. You’re going to go check on her.”

I slip on my jacket and glare at him. “And what if I am?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say I haven’t had the same thought myself. But she might not want to see us right now.”

Grabbing my briefcase, I give him a pointed look. “Lock my door when you leave.”

Eli’s laughter follows me out of the office. I stop in front of my assistant’s desk. “Sabrina. I’m leaving for the day. I’m waiting for Wilkenson to call, so forward him to my cell. Otherwise, I’m out of the office.”

“Yes, Mr. Walker. Is everything okay?”

“Of course, it is. Feel free to start your weekend a little early today. You deserve it.” I send her a smile, and she beams back at me.

I don’t linger though. Every step of the journey to Paige’s apartment is torture. But when Liam is pulling up in front of her apartment building, I hesitate.

What am I doing? I should just leave her alone.

But the ache in my chest cranks at the thought.

No, I did that last time, and look how that turned out. I step out into the brisk late afternoon air and tell Liam not to wait for me. Perhaps, it’s part optimism and part punishment. I don’t have much of a plan if she won’t let me in.

It’s all I can think about on my way up the stairs, as I stare at her door, as I knock, as I wait patiently.

After a few minutes, the door opens halfway to reveal a disheveled Paige—hair falling out of its bun, circles under her eyes, swimming in an oversized shirt covered in stains, and my black sweatpants.

I can barely take a breath at the sight of her. My chest squeezes tight, and I reach for her.

Paige steps back. “Now’s not really a good time.”

Narrowing my eyes at her, I look back into her apartment—what little I can see of it. “Am I interrupting?”

Meeting my gaze, she sighs and deflates, swinging the door wider to let me in. “No. Not really.”

I don’t like how tired she looks. And all the questions running a marathon in my head today are on the tip of my tongue until I see a little brown-haired boy propped up at the end of her couch.

Paige closes the door behind me and I look her over from a new perspective. The stains on her shirt are a mix of old and fresh. The strain around her eyes is worry, not regret.

“I thought Penelope was the one with the kid.”

Her harsh laughter is soft, closing her eyes with the weariness of a single mother. One that just graduated from university with honors. “Nope.”

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