Page 29 of Playing Dirty
I tapped his name.
Stared at the blank screen.
No green dot. No typing bubble. Just… air.
The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy. Smothering. Louder than any fight we’d ever had. At least a fight meant someone cared enough to shout.
I locked the screen and flipped my phone face down on the desk.
Back to work.
Because there was always work.
The office door swung open without so much as a knock. Lilly strolled in, clutching a plastic-wrapped bouquet of daisies and wearing a look that screamed,I’m pretending this is casual so you don’t bolt.
“You didn’t have to bring me pity flowers,” I said, half-teasing.
She waltzed in like she owned the place, dropped the daisies onto Matt’s desk, and flopped into the chair across from mine.
I sighed. “Let me guess—you’re not just here to brighten my day with sunny blooms.”
“Nope,” she said, grinning. “I came to dig through your business and force you to eat something that didn’t come from a vending machine.”
She opened a brown paper bag from the deli with a smug little grin on her face like she’d just solved world peace.
“Lunch,” she announced, setting the bag on the desk with a dramatic flourish. “Fresh sandwiches. And brownies. Because emotional sabotage pairs best with sugar.”
She didn’t ask what I wanted. Of course not. Lilly didn’t ask—shedecided.
She unpacked a turkey and cheddar for me, slid it across the desk like it was a contract I wasn’t allowed to negotiate, then pulled out her own chicken salad sandwich and two warm brownies wrapped in wax paper.
“Eat,” she said. “We’re having a friendly interrogation.”
I peeled back the wrapping. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Callie.”
I bit into the sandwich. Chewed. Swallowed. “He’s just busy.”
“He hasn’t even sent you aselfie.”
“He’s probably in meetings.”
“Okay, then where’s the picture of hishotel room? His view? His overpriced steak dinner? Matt used to send you pictures of puddles that reminded him of cloud shapes.”
I winced. “That was one time.”
“It was three. I counted.”
She let that hang for a second, then crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “He gave you a bonus, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So… that’s not a ‘thank you,’ that’s a bribe.”
“It’s not a bribe. It’s appreciation.”
“It’s hush money.”
