Page 72 of The Confidentiality Clause
It’s been a week since Brock left for LA. We haven’t spoken since he landed, and I can’t help but worry about him. I check our text thread, rereading the last message I sent him three days ago.
Ariel: I saw on SportsCenter that Vincent’s charges were dropped! How are you feeling? I know that must have taken a lot of work.
I bite my lip. The gala is tomorrow. I don’t want to look desperate, but I am. If he’s not going to be there, I need to find someone who can be. Or fake sickness and deal with the remarks later. Either way, I can’t be caught there alone. Shaking off my nerves, I send another message. Two texts in the span of a week is nothing.
Ariel: Hey, do you know when you’re coming home? The gala is tomorrow, and it’s okay if you can’t make it, but I need to know so I can make other plans.
An hour later, he still hasn’t answered. I keep telling myself he’s just busy, but in the past,busymeantrunning himself into the ground. There’s no one in LA to stop him from doing that. Everyone he’s with is likely demanding more of him than ever before since he’s there in person. If I know Brock, he’s also using his time there to recruit new clients as well.
There’s a deep uneasiness within me. I used to worry about Brock, but after all of our time together, it’s ten–no, a hundred–times worse. His lack of an answer also makes me wonder if I imagined the growing connection between us. If he cared about me, wouldn’t he take a few seconds out of his day to show it?
I look at my phone. The text thread right beneath mine and Brock’s glares at me.Sutton. I could call her. That was a part of my deal with Brock. If I thought he wasn’t cooperating, I could break the confidentiality clause and call her. He would be furious. I toss my phone from one hand to the other. Sutton is my best friend. We tell each other everything. Keeping this from her has been painful. I don’t know if I can keep lying, not when my heart is on the line now, too. She’s the only one who knows me well enough to help, and she knows Brock too, as his twin sister.
My phone drops into my right hand and my stomach plummets with it. I can’t put it off any longer.She’d find out eventually, I tell myself as I stand and walk out of the office.He’ll forgive you.I head to my car and get inside. Once the A/C is blasting on the coldest setting, I hit call.
“Hey, I was just thinking about you,” Sutton answers. “I’m out shopping and I saw this pair of burgundy heels that would look incredible on you.”
“They sound amazing,” I say and place a hand on my roiling stomach. Why is this so hard?
“What’s wrong?” she asks in her typical no-nonsense way.
“How do you know something’s wrong?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
“I’m your best friend.” I can practically hear her eye roll. “Spill.”
I tip my head back against the seat rest and close my eyes. Here goes nothing.
“Brock has blood pressure problems. He’s taking medication for it. I found out that night you sent me to take him food. I’ve been seeing him multiple times a week since then. It started out as me trying to get him to relax and take time off work, but now–” I cut off and draw in a shaky breath. “Now I think I have feelings for him.”
Silence. It stretches from Alabama to North Carolina, blanketing the East Coast with its weight.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I start rambling again. “We made a deal that I wouldn’t tell you if he did whatever I thought would help his stress levels.”
Another heavy pause.
“Is he not cooperating anymore? Is he okay?” she asks. Her tone is measured, as if she’s not sure yet how to respond.
“I’m sure you know he’s been in LA. I haven’t talked to him since he landed, and that was just a text letting me know he was safe. I’m worried he’s pushing himself too hard again. But, if I’m honest, that’s not the main reason I called.”
“What is?” I wish I could read her tone. It sounds so unlike her that I can’t pick up on it. My heart races. Am I about to lose my best friend?
“I need my best friend,” I whisper. Tears gather in my eyes. “I-I know that’s selfish of me, I’m sor–”
“If I was there right now, I’d throw something at you. Probably a pillow, since you’re crying, but still. You’re not selfish, Ari. You were trying to help my dumb brother and managed to fall for him. How did that happen? Did I mention how dumb he is?”
I let out a laugh, tears streaming down my face. “You’re not mad?”
She sighs. “I think I’m in shock? This is a lot for a girl to process.” She lets out a short laugh. “But I’m not mad. Not at you, at least. My brother is a different story.”
I grab some napkins from my console and dab under my eyes.
“He didn’t want you to uproot your life to come and save him,” I explain. “So we made a deal that I would do a smaller version of what I imagine you would.”
“Like?”
“Getting him away from work, making him go outside, taking breaks from his phone, things like that. I might have taken him to the cabin, too.”
“You stayed in the cabin together?” She gasps. “Wait! When you were in his room–”
