Page 23 of Old Money

“I know, honey. I know. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too, Mom,” I say. “I love you.”

“I love you, baby. Call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Bye,” I say, hanging up.

I turn on my shower after I throw my things down on the table and walk back into my bedroom. I peel off my clothes and head for the bathroom just as my phone dings on my bed. I freeze when I see his name.

I pick it up embarrassingly fast and slide it open.

Are you off yet?

I scoff. Why does he care? I debate not answering at all. I really shouldn’t. I should end this weird little thing we have. So, being the strong-willed woman I am, I wait all of thirty seconds to respond to him.

Just got home.I pause for a moment, biting my lip before adding,About to get in the shower.

I wait for a response, but nothing. I wait another twenty seconds. Nothing.

Fuck.I shouldn’t have answered. I throw my phone back on my bed and get in the shower.

I try to relax, take my time, wash the day off of me, but my body is racing through the motions of washing itself. My brain is saying,Who gives a shit? Let him wait. While my heart—and my vagina—are telling me to get back to that phone as fast as humanly possible.

I turn the water off, wrap a towel around me, and practically run out to my bedroom.

What are you doing tomorrow?

I swallow. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Why is he asking? There is no way Julian Everett doesn't have plans for Thanksgiving. I think about making something up so I don’t sound so pathetic. But then I remember he’s seen me at the most vulnerable I’ve ever been in my life. There’s really no use in hiding.

Sitting in my robe with a book. Why do you ask?

I’d like to take you somewhere. Pick you up at ten?

My heart rate starts to pick up. I really shouldn’t let him affect me like this.

Where?

Think of it as a little Thanksgiving surprise. Ten?

I sigh as I stare down at my phone, biting my lip. I tap my foot on the ground for a moment.

Fine. Ten.

That man is so confusing. So frustrating.

And so fucking delicious. And coincidentally, I’m already naked. So I hop into my browser, image search him, and lie back on my bed like I havewaytoo many times since I met him.

SAWYER

I’m up early as usual, lying in my bed and staring out at what has become my favorite view. I love the gray-blue color of the early morning sky over the black water before the sun blazes through any of it. It feels like, when I get up this early, I’m the only one who gets to see it in this state. Untouched but still beautiful in its own right without the glow of the sun.

I make myself some breakfast, putz around the apartment, then start to frantically get myself ready as time ticks closer to ten. As I’m sifting through my closet, though, I realize I don’t know how to dress. I grab my phone and dial him, not bothering to send a text first.

“Are you bailing on me?” he asks, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. I bite my lip to keep from smiling back.

“You never told me what to wear,” I say, ignoring him.

“Hmm,” he says. “How about you wear what you were wearing last night when we were texting?”

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