Plans? On a Tuesday night? His fingers started to type out the question, wanting to know where she was going, but he stilled himself. Would it be moving too quickly to ask where she was going and when he could expect her to return home?
Oh? Where are you headed?
“Let’s go, I think I smell roast beef.” Barron shut his laptop and rounded the desk. Not a small man in stature by any means, he stood almost as tall as his son, and his shoulders were nearly as wide, but age seemed to be shrinking him.
Just out.
Just out? In what world did she think that counted as an answer?
Call me when you get home. No texting. Call.He put his phone in his back pocket and followed his father down the hall, passing more dead people hanging on the walls and an occasional diploma or certificate on the way to the dining room.
Just out.He plunked himself down in his chair at the far end of the table, facing his father who sat at the opposite end of the table, six feet of well-polished cherry wood between them, and stewed.
Just out.
Well, he’d see about that.
* * *
Jamison drummedhis fingers on his desk, glaring at his computer screen. He’d already been in his office for two hours and had accomplished exactly nothing. The clock on the lower corner of the computer screen mocked him.
Nine a.m. It was nine a.m., and he still hadn’t heard from Carissa. He’d been clear in his message for her to call him when she returned home. He’d even sent a text when he’d woken up for work and hadn’t heard from her. But still, at nine a.m. he was sitting his desk, staring at the digital clock on his toolbar.
Just as he was about get up and march down to the hospital to check on her, his phone buzzed on the desktop.
“Carissa.” While a part of him relaxed, knowing she was safe, the other half remained irritated at her behavior.
“Hi. Sorry.” She yawned into the phone. “Sorry. I got in later than I thought, and it was too late to call.”
“It’s never too late to call me. Are you at work?” He didn’t bother containing the clipped tone.
“What? No. I took the day off. Shirley, another nurse, needed some overtime to pay for her daughter’s braces so I offered her my shift.” The woman sounded downright exhausted.
“Exactly what time did you get in?” He prepared himself to dislike the answer.
“I don’t know. Eleven? I was beat so I went to bed.” Another yawn.
“You’re home now?” He turned around to look out the expansive windows of his office at the city laid out before him.
“Yes. I called you as soon as I woke up.” At least a sliver of apprehension had entered her voice. He didn’t want her scared, never would he want her afraid of him, but she should at least understand when she’d crossed a line.
“Carissa.” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried when I woke up and you hadn’t called, and even more so when I texted you and you didn’t respond.”
“Did you think I ran away again?” He could hear the levity start to creep back in, but it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“I was worried something had happened to you.” His office door opened and his secretary walked in, Garrick trailing behind her with an obnoxious grin.
“Well, nothing did. I just fell asleep.”
“You told me last night you were working today.” The door shut again, and it was only Jamison and Garrick in the room.
“At the time, I had planned to. Shirley called me while I was out.”
He clenched his jaw but forced himself to relax. He’d told himself he’d give her time, be patient, but she pushed harder than he’d expected. “And where was out?”
“Are we going to have this conversation every time I do something without you? You aren’t a control freak, are you?”
Okay, his patience was done.