Page 101 of Sassy Love
My apartment is too quiet. And far too lonely after spending the weekend and then some with my family and Carlie.
I drop my bag inside the door and flick the light on. Four days went as fast as four hours, and after one non-eventful flight home, I made sure Carlie got home okay before catching an Uber home.
With a plan and a backup plan, including the gala, I’m hopeful we can pull Serenity out of the red and have the place thriving, if not improving exponentially.
Despite that, things feel off with me and Carlie. I have no idea what she and Reed were talking about on the porch our last night in Montana, but whatever it was, she’s been distracted since. Closed off, even. The gut-sinking feeling that I’ve ruined everything twists, turning my stomach contents of airport food and a cold coffee to lead.
“Dammit.” Fingers threading through my hair, I slump onto the sofa. “How could I be so fucking stupid?”
I pull my phone from my back pocket and tap out a message.
Carlie, thanks for the weekend.
Nope, scratch that. I delete it and start again.
Carlie, if this weekend was uncomfor?—
Urgh.
I delete that, too, and toss the phone onto the sofa. I flop backward and stretch out on the cushions. The day’s done and dusted at around nine in the evening, and I couldn’t be bothered to text the guys. With a groan, I close my eyes, resting my forearm over my face.
Let’s hope we can pull off the rest of this quarter and the next before one of us ends up leaving.
My phone buzzes, the screen lighting up.
Carlie.
I fly up off the sofa embarrassingly fast, fumbling the phone. I slide the bar across and answer.
“Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. I got home and realized I have the wrong bag.”
I snap my gaze to the bag by the door. Not my bag. Her rose-gold luggage sits against the wall by my front door.
“Damn, you need it now, or . . .”
“Well, yeah.”
“Oh, so.” I rub a hand behind my neck, my words suddenly drying up. “You want me to bring it over?”
“If it’s not too much trouble. Besides, I don’t think my Gucci will look any good on you tomorrow at the office.”
“You never know.”
“Laws, I need my things. Please?”
“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.”
“Thank you.”
The line disconnects. I stare at the bag by the door. How did I mix that up with my silver one? I guess I wasn’t really paying attention to the luggage, only to the woman traveling with me.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I swipe up my wallet and keys and grab the bag, leaving the apartment before my pride can take a hit. The woman needs her things.
It takes forty minutes to get to Carlie’s, and when I get there the foyer is quiet. It’s almost ten. Shit. I head to the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor. When the rising cubicle slows with a ding, I step out of the sliding door and head for her apartment. I raise a fist to knock but hesitate.
I’ve never been so self-conscious trying to do the right thing before in my life. After the last night, things seem different—and not in a good way. Needing to know either way, I raise my hand and knock.
