Page 85 of The Merger
Me: You have no fucking idea. What are you up to today?
Carys: Want the truth or for me to make up something super sexy to drive you crazy?
Me: The truth. I’m trying not to think about you doing something super sexy.
Carys: Great because this will be a bucket of cold water for ya. I’m filling out life insurance paperwork. They literally ask you everything under the sun. For example, I don’t know if I’ve ever had my cholesterol checked. I make a point not to know what I weigh. And it wants any doctor’s or dentist’s contact numbers I’ve seen in the last ten years. The only person I can remember who has given me a physical is you.
I blow out a breath and sink back into the cushions.
“End this now before you get too deep,” I say.
Me: Good luck with all of that. I need to go do some paperwork, too. I just wanted to check on you.
Carys: I’m glad you did.
Me: Have a good night.
Carys: Good night, Gannon. Xo
Fuck.
Carys
Wednesday
I hold my phone, swiping through my calls and texts just in case I missed a message from Gannon.
The answer is the same as it’s been all day. I didn’t miss a thing.
I set the phone on the kitchen counter and return to making my grilled cheese with a frown.
“You are Carys Johnson,” I remind myself. “You don’t care if a man calls you. It’s better if they don’t, as a matter of fact. Saves you trouble.”
It’s bad when you roll your eyes at yourself.
Gannon’s trip is the best and worst thing that could’ve happened. The thousand miles separating us makes it clear that our relationship is a real-world Venn diagram. Our individual lives are different, and we simply exist in different worlds. But there’s an overlap where a lot of fun can happen. I need to remember that we live our ninety percent of our lives in separate circles.
The overlap is the anomaly. The exception to the rule.
The best time of my life, so far.
“But it’s Wednesday,” I say, flipping my sandwich and trying to justify reaching out to him. “And Wednesday is the day I work in his office, which means it’s my day to see him. I’m basically entitled to talk to him today. Right?” I nod, agreeing with myself.Well done.“Right.”
I toss my dinner onto a plate, turn off the burner, and then pick up my phone.
“Fuck it.”
Me: I just made a grilled cheese with mayonnaise. Thanks. You’ve ruined me.
Gannon: If that’s the way I’ve ruined you, I failed.
I laugh at his text, wondering if he was already on his phone … or if he was thinking about texting me, too.
The odds are that he was working on his device. I might pretend he’s dying to talk to me, but I know that’s not true. The man is the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company. I’m not at the top of his priority list and I shouldn’t be.
And, really, I’m glad.
It makes things easier. I hate when men get obsessed.Or when I forget reality …
