Page 74 of A Love That Broke Us
Alley.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ALLEY
THEN
Slingingmy purse over my shoulder, I grab my water jug and push open the break room door.
I nearly run into Zach as I step into the hall.
“Whoa! Leaving without saying goodbye?” he asks, mock offended.
“I was just coming to find you,” I say with a laugh. “You working tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but not until noon. You?”
“Seven a.m.,” I groan.
I hate the morning shift, yet, somehow it keeps landing on my schedule. I’ll have to leave the house by six fifteen and won’t see Jensen until dinner. I’d much rather sleep in, have a slow morning—maybe even some sex—drink coffee together before he heads out at eight.
He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout and opens his arms. Laughing, I step into him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say as I pull back.
“See you, babe. Enjoy your night.”
“I will. You too,” I reply, walking backwards a few steps before turning toward the elevators.
Once inside, I press the lobby button and lean against the wall. I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. A missed text from Michael lights up the screen.
I blink at it.
Michael
Dad asked for your number today.
My heart skips a beat, a claustrophobic pressure creeping up my throat, squeezing tight.
Why? What did you say?
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out—distracted, my gaze locked on my phone as I type.
Michael
He wants to talk to you, obviously. I told him I’d ask you.
No. Don’t give it to him.
I changed my number a few years after moving to New York. I told myself it was for a local area code, for a clean break from Chicago. But who was I kidding? I know why I really did it.
Michael
He’s sober, you know. Has been for a while.
My grip tightens on my phone, but I don’t react. I don’t let myself. I lock the screen, shove it into my purse, and keep walking.
My pulse picks up—and so does my pace, like maybe I can outrun the anger. The resentment. The hurt.
