Page 25 of Reconnected Hearts
I’m silently debating calling Betty for a fail-proof serotonin boost when my phone rings, a telemarketer most likely, since it’s an unknown number.
I almost reject the call, but just in the nick of time, I recognize the last four digits.
It’s the call about my interview.
I pound the ACCEPT button and hold my phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Am I speaking to Noah Laurier?”
“Yeah—yes, this is he.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Laurier. I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Winslow to inform you that he has availability to reschedule your interview tomorrow at 3 p.m.”
“Perfect!” I exclaim, then quickly realize I should probably feign some form of professionalism. “Er, I mean—I believe that will work, sir. Thank you very much for your time.”
The only response I receive is a long, droning dial tone. I might’ve been offended by that any other day, but not when I’ve just been given another chance to fix everything.
This is the best news I’ve gotten in days!
I hear the door click open and Lucy walks in. I jump to my feet and rush over to her, too pumped to keep my excitement to myself even when she looks at me warily.
“I got the interview tomorrow!”
Her caution of our close proximity disappears as she grins ear-to-ear and throws her arms around my neck.
“Noah, oh my God! That’s amazing!” She seems to realize what she’s done and pulls away, putting a painful amount of distance between us. But I can still smell her vanilla perfume as if her body is still intertwined with mine. I want her back in my arms. I want her to want me. “See? I told you it would work out.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, cheeks likely hot to the touch, and smile at the floor.
“Thank you, Lucy. Really, I probably would’ve just turned around and gone home if you hadn’t convinced me to call.”
“Yeah, well…” she taunts lightheartedly, jabbing her elbow into my arm. “I can be nice…sometimes”
I laugh and shake my head, daring to peek up and look at her.
The thought hits me at once, I will doanythingto try to keep this woman close.
CHAPTER13
LUCY
Iwalked into the hotel room with every intention of ignoring Noah until we leave for the airport tomorrow, but he was soexcited. Butjumping into his arms? What’s wrong with me? I know better. Or I thought I did.
I just can’t seem to learn my lesson. Every time I try to put some distance between Noah and myself, he looks at me with those unfairly cute dimples, and I completelyfold. I must be under a spell. I’d always thought that I was stronger than this. I would watch those silly romance movies where the girl leaves her dream life to be with a medium-ugly man from her hometown and scoff and roll my eyes.
Never in a million years wouldIbe charmed by a man simply batting his eyelashes and smiling.
Think again.You hadn’t met Noah Laurier yet.
In my defense, at least he’s interesting to be around. He has a decent vocabulary. He’s interested in lots of obscure things which I enjoy listening to. He can make light of any situation. He can participate in a literary debate. It’sfun. But that’s what makes it so dangerous.Himso dangerous.
“—then my sister explained everything in a PowerPoint one Christmas, and there’s actually a lot of lore about it. So, basically?—”
He’s pacing the common room floor, halfway through a family-sized bag of chips, giving me a rundown on celebrity dating lives while I sit silently, unmoving, on the couch.
I have to fix this—now.
