Page 67 of Winter Glam in Amsterdam

Before I can spiral further, my phone rings, and I take the call without even checking the caller ID.

"Are you still not feeling it, bro?" Ian asks me.

I get up with a sigh, starting to pace my office. "Not at all," I admit, rubbing my forehead in annoyance. “I just keep thinking about her, man.”

"Maybe it's time for another grand gesture to win her back," Ian chuckles, but I shake my head.

"I honestly don't think it is. I'm still holding on to hope here, I'm not about to destroy the last spark by going against her wishes again. God, why does she have to be so stubborn?"

"Oh, please. As if you're an angel," he retorts with a chuckle. "Why, are you telling me that continuously pining for her and trying to convince her to give you another chance isn't stubborn?"

"It's not the same," I try to argue, but it only makes him laugh harder.

Obviously, I told him about Summer on my first day back. He filled me in on everything I'd missed while I was off, and in that little gossipy mood we were in, I shared about my vacation as well. Not all the sordid details, of course, but enough for him to know that there's a woman called Summer on my mind and that I fucked it up in what he calls a ‘typical Tanner move.’

"Well, whatever, man. You're a catch. Her loss if she doesn't see that."

"Thank you, thank you." The corner of my mouth twitches into a grin. "Now, is that the only reason you're calling? Trying to get details on my dating life?"

"Kind of."

It sounds like he's sitting down and stretching out his legs. "I just need a little break. I've been staring at my script the whole day, and I'm afraid if I see another letter, I'll lose what’s left of my sanity."

"Maybe you should take a break," I suggest. "Go on a little vacation, too. Have some drinks by the pool, some sun on your ghost-like skin and get your mojo back."

"Maybe," he sighs. "But I've still got four projects to finish up before I can even start to think about a vacation."

I'm about to respond when suddenly my doorbell rings.

"Alright, man, I have to go. But you go ahead and plan for that vacation, you deserve it."

"Is it your dream woman?" he teases as I walk to the door, but a look through my peephole tells me he's wrong.

"Nope, it's my sister. Bye, Ian."

I hang up, and quickly put my phone in my pocket, then open the door for her. "Zoey? What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too." Her face stretches into a tight grin, then she pushes her way past me and waltzes right in.

Her arm is still in a cast and sling, but she already looks a lot better than she did at the hospital. That spark is back in her eyes, though I'm not sure if that is reason to be happy or to worry.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? Aren't you going back to university?"

"It's the weekend," she points out, confused, like that explains it all.

"And your university is on the other side of the country," I point out, lifting my eyebrow. "Approximately a six-hour flight away. So I repeat, what are you doing here?"

"I came to visit you," she admits with a shrug, and I take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"So, I take it Adam is still getting on your nerves?"

"I havenoidea what you're talking about." She shoots me a stupid grin, and I shake my head at her.

"So, I'll take it you two made up?"

"Well, kind of," she admits, scratching her neck with her healthy arm. "We had a talk. I don’t think I’m forgiven by all means, but at least he's talking to me again."

"Hey, that's progress, at least," I tell her and follow her into my living room. "And I figured he might make you work for it. So, apologizing worked?"

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