Page 123 of The Fixer

She needed to hear Charlie’s soothing baritone, so she picked up her phone. Her finger hovered over his number. She’d been so abrupt with him when they last spoke. What if he was done with hergrumpy ass? They’d been together less than a month, and the first half of their relationship had been contentious at best, with them snarling at each other from completely opposite sides of the renovation project. The last half, though? No words could describe it. Amazing? Stupendous? Fantastic? All inadequate. Then again, she’d never been here before. If she’d had any experience falling in love, maybe she would be better equipped to wax on with the right sort of poetic eloquence.

Another thought struck, this one more disturbing. By leaving him as she had, had she destroyed their fledgling love affair? Reduced it to little more than a fling? Though Fall River’s oddballs and its mountain pace had definitely left their mark on her, she wasn’t a small-town girl, and he wasn’t a big-city boy. On top of that, he was drop-dead gorgeous—hello, cover model material—and while she might be confident in the boardroom, she was on shaky ground when it came to her personal life. Why on earth would hewantto stick with her?

She always had her career, though. She loved the satisfaction that came from closing a deal and earning the bucks. She loved the security she gained. Wealth had been her life’s ambition throughout adulthood, and if she tried to make herself fit into small-town, she would have to be satisfied with the riches she had accumulated and no more. No more performance cars. No more fine leather couches. No more Jimmy Choos. And what if that hard-earned wealth was compromised? Would she be able to weave herself a new security blanket?

God, she hated being in this position. Betwixt and between what used to make her happy but no longer fulfilled her. What made her happy now didn’t fit the dreams she’d dreamed her entire life.

Maybe if she could talk him into moving here … She had a huge place; he could find lots of work. Oh, the opportunities in Chicago for a passionate preservationist! He would never be bored. He would have access to oodles of buildings that would speak to him and reveal their past.

Her chest inflated with optimism. She had a plan she could pitch. Yes, this could work!

Spirits buoyed, she stabbed his number. It rang and rang and rang. Went to voicemail. As she was trying to figure out what to say, his number lit up her phone screen. She answered right away.

“Hey, princess,” came his cheerful voice. “Sorry about that. I was in the middle of something. Miss me?”

“Yes,” she laugh-cried with relief. She gulped in air to keep the breathlessness from her voice. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Well, you’re hearing it. What’s up?” He sounded distracted; people laughed in the background.

Not what she’d hoped to hear. “Where are you?”

“Miners.”

“Oh. Um, well, I’m home. I had to go shopping for new clothes for work this week.” She followed this up with a high-pitched laugh. Ugh.

“Yeah?” His tone was less than enthusiastic. Of course it was! The man was no shopper unless it involved lumber or grout.

“Yes. You know, for work tomorrow.” She told him about going into the office, seeing Estelle, and trying to cut down her work pile.

“And how did you do with that?” The noise faded away, as if he’d moved someplace quieter.

“Barely made a dent.”

“Which means you’re not coming back here anytime soon, are you?” Did she detect a note of irritation in his question? That could be a positive sign. Yeah, she’d go with that.

“I don’t know. Do you need my help on the project?”

“Always. How soon can you get back here?” His tone swooped upward as if on a wing of hope.

“Um, not in the foreseeable future.” She could practically hear him deflate on the other end. “I loved the selfie of you and the dogs.” The comment sounded lame, desperate even.

“I’m glad.” He sounded anythingbutglad, and it lanced her that she was doing that to him. “I should probably get going. We’re celebrating the anniversary of Neve opening her practice, and I’m on margarita duty. Call you later?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.”

“Or sooner if something comes up with your mom’s place, of course.”

“Right. Of course.”

Their good-byes were stiffer than the rest of the conversation had been, and she flopped backward on her couch. If only she had a dog to curl up on her chest, it might not feel so hollow right now.

She hadn’t even been gone two days. Why had the conversation been so awkward? Crap, she needed a manual to navigate this stuff! Her mind wandered to a different, darker, more suspicious path, and she picturedLauren or Germaine batting clumpy eyelashes at him. Pouring beer on his shirt so he had to take it off. Worse, arealfemme fatale. Maybe a tourist, eager to cheer him up after Joy had brought him down, who would be in and out—literally—no strings, easy-peasy.

Stop it, Joy!

With a heavy sigh, she swung her feet to the floor and padded to the butler’s pantry, where she pulled an unopened bottle from the Viking wine cooler and poured herself a hefty glass of her favorite white. She stared at the label, reminded of the open bottle in Charlie’s fridge. If she was hoping to drown the massive ache in her heart, she would need to drink the entire bottle—and then some.

Joy arrived at theoffice early the following morning, armored up in a brand-new power suit that was a full two sizes larger than the older suits hanging in her closets.

---