Page 87 of David's Chase

I feel guilty again.

“I’ll pay the mechanic.”

“You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how much it costs.”

“Thank you,” I say softly when another call flashes across my screen.

It’s David video calling me.

“Okay. I gotta go,” I say in a hurry. “We’ll talk.”

We end our conversation, and I accept David’s call.

“Hey,” he says, holding his phone up.

The lit Manhattan skyline glows in the background.

He’s not home––I mean at the hotel––and I have a feeling an apology is about to come my way.

He looks smashing, rocking a designer suit, a crimson tie, and a crisp white shirt.

Yup, he’s still at the business dinner.

His eyes rove over my face.

“Hey,” I say softly.

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

I smile sweetly.

His concern dissipates, his eyes soft with a smile.

“I was waiting for you,” I murmur, leaning my phone against a stack of books on the table and lying to my side, propped on my elbow.

‘You shouldn’t have said that.’

The voice inside my head huffs, throwing her arms in the air. I can’t argue with her. But I can’t ignore how I feel either.

Maybe being sincere will backfire in the end, but for now, it’s all I can do.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking down briefly. “I called you to tell you I’d be late.”

‘Uh-huh,’ Mindysays inside my head.

‘I’m no Mindy.’

‘You will be if you don’t shut your pie hole.’

‘You’re a hater. You know I’m right.’

‘The man is allowed to be late. He just called me to let me know. That’s nice of him.’

‘Hahaha. Look at you being ridiculous. You’re all prepped up, killing yourself to look nice for him. And he’s late. Who knows what being late means in his world?’

‘I’m done listening to you.’

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