Page 95 of Marrying the Billionaire

Archer

Weak streetlights shine intermittently through the rear window of our town car as we travel back to the hotel, Connor beside me in the backseat. Up front, our driver brakes as a moped cuts him off, shouting something in Filipino I can’t understand.

“What’d he say?”

“Huh?” Connor looks over at me and then up at the driver. “Oh, basically likeson of a bitch. I think it literally means your mother’s a whore, though.”

“Oh.” We lurch forward again as a truck inserts itself into our lane, and I avert my eyes from the window so I don’t continually flinch. I thought New York was ridiculous, but this is an outright free for all. “Is it always this bad driving?”

“Yep.” He relaxes further back into his seat, his apparent ease while we’re in this death trap astounding. “You get used to it after a while.”

“Right.” Hopefully, it won’t be a while for me. I’m already on day five and practically crawling out of my skin. There’s no good reason for me to be here. It’s a hassle to get any of my normal work done, and there’s nothing I can do that Connor himself can’t. The one bright spot is that I’ve been spending time with my brother.

And the darkest is that I still haven’t spoken to Serena after the awkward end to our call the other day.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, checking the display, but there are no new messages, no missed calls. Nothing’s changed since I last checked five minutes ago.

Really, it shouldn’t be her reaching out first. It should be me. I’m the one who didn’t know what to say. I’m the one who made up that bullshit excuse about needing to go. I’m the one who keeps waiting for the perfect words to come to me.

But at this point, I just need to say something. To tell her she’s been on my mind nonstop. That I miss her in a way that physically aches. That she’ll have to bear with me while I inevitably screw some things up. This whole being in a relationship thing is new to me.

Being beholden to someone. Responsible for them. Tied together, not just legally, but deep within yourself. Your brain. Your heart. Your soul. Serena’s in there, but how far?

How do you know?

I pull the reading glasses she gave me out of the inner breast pocket of my suit and put them on, my chest flaring in remembrance of how thoughtful she is, and bring up my messages on the screen, her name at the top.I miss you, I type out, keeping it simple. I just need to open the lines of communication again, get things flowing.

But when I press send, the phone does nothing. Not even the spinny circle like it’s trying to act.

“Hey, do you get bad service over here?”

“Hmm?” Connor looks up from his own phone over at me. “Uh, sometimes. The signal’s best at the office or hotel when I can connect to wi-fi.”

“Yeah, but you’re using data right now. Mine won’t even do that.”

“Here. Let me see.”

I exit out of my messages before handing my cell to him, wanting to keep anything between me and Serena private.

He frowns as he looks at it, fiddling with something in the settings. “It says you’re not connected to a network.”

“Shouldn’t it automatically connect? Do it manually.”

“I can’t. It’s acting like you don’t even have service.”

“What? I was using it today at the office.”

“To make calls?”

I rack my brain, trying to recall every time I used it. “No,” I say slowly. “I only sent emails. I was using the wi-fi, though. I haven’t called anyone on it since-” I clear my throat, pushing away that memory. “Since the other night.”

He hands it back to me. “Try calling someone.”

I bring up Serena’s contact, my thumb hovering over the phone icon. It’s seven p.m. here, which means it’s six a.m. there. She’ll definitely be asleep, but this is important. Not that I know what I’ll say, but maybe it’s been long enough that the awkwardness has faded.

But nothing happens. The call won’t go through.

“Let me use your phone.”

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