Page 31 of Todd
“Take care of yourself… especially since there’s no backup until later,” Logan warned.
“I will.”
The call ended with Logan’s usual efficiency, leaving her staring at the silent phone. She sank back down onto the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, as her mind raced.
Timothy is in surgery.The thought made her stomach twist with guilt and worry. Todd volunteered for this.Todd wanted to come and be here specifically for me.
The realization hit her like lightning, impossible to ignore. Logan could have sent any of the other Keepers. Hell, Logan could have come himself. But Todd had stepped forward and chosen to be the one racing across the country to work with her. After last night’s tentative reconnection, he was coming to her.
She pressed her palms against her hot cheeks, trying to sort through the tangle of emotions threatening to choke her.
Irritated?Yes, she’d been irritated by his dismissal, by the way he’d reduced something beautiful to a regrettable mistake.
Embarrassed?God, yes. The memory of his words still had the power to make her want to disappear into the floor.
Angry?She’d been furious, hurt beyond measure by his casual indifference.
But underneath all of that, if she was brutally honest with herself, there had been a deeper pain.Disappointed. Heartbroken. Lonely.
She winced, a sigh escaping her that seemed to come from her very soul. What they’d shared had been a night that had rearranged something fundamental inside her.
But Todd volunteered. No, Logan said that Todd had insisted on coming.
The distinction mattered more than she wanted to admit. Volunteering was a duty. Insisting was... something else entirely. Something that made her pulse skip and her carefully constructed defenses tremble.
The chimes sounded through the spa’s walls, their melodic notes a sharp reminder that she was supposed to be maintaining her cover. Glancing at the clock, she realized with a start that she needed to hurry to make breakfast on time. Any deviation from the routine could raise suspicions she couldn’t afford.
Her fingers flew over the phone’s keyboard as she composed a text to Todd:I know to expect you. Won’t be near my phone until sometime this afternoon.
She stared at the message, cursor blinking after the formal words. So cold. So professional. So completely inadequate for everything churning inside her.
Before she could lose her nerve, she added,I’m glad you’re coming.
Four simple words that carried the weight of unspoken longing, of worry that went far beyond professional concern, of feelings she’d tried so hard to bury but had never quite managed to kill.
Her thumb hovered over the send button for a heartbeat, then, with a sharp exhale, she pressed it. The message disappeared, carrying with it a piece of her carefully guarded heart. In a few hours, Todd would be here. The thought terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.
Get it together, Sadie.She re-taped the phone in its hiding place underneath the sink, then moved toward the shower to begin the ritual of becoming someone else for the day.
The hot water cascaded over her skin in her marble-appointed bathroom, complete with a rainfall showerhead. The array of organic toiletries probably costs more than most people’s weekly grocery budget. She dressed in the yoga attire that had been “suggested” for this morning’s session. Mary had given her the company credit card and told her to buy what she needed for the assignment.
“Look, you’ve got to play the part, so you need high-end athletic wear and lounging clothes for the downtimes. They need to believe the story you gave them on the application.”
It had felt wrong to get online and purchase what she’d need, especially seeing the price tag. Now, the expensive athletic wear’s luxurious softness against her skin felt foreign. She wasmore accustomed to her practical workout clothes that could withstand real training sessions, not designer pieces meant to look pretty while barely breaking a sweat.
The dining area was already humming with quiet activity when she arrived for breakfast. The same ethereal music drifted through hidden speakers, and she wondered whether the sound system ever played anything with an actual beat, or if the entire facility was locked into this perpetual state of artificial serenity.
Her table from the previous evening was available, and she claimed it with relief. The breakfast menu offered the same limited selection of “cleansing” options of steel-cut oats with organic berries, green smoothies packed with vegetables she couldn’t pronounce, and what appeared to be some kind of quinoa porridge that looked about as appetizing as wet concrete. The idea of eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes filled her mind as she ordered the oats and berries.
As she lifted her glass of water, she noted the packet of pills next to her plate. She opened the packet and poured the variety of shapes, sizes, and colors into her hand. In one movement, she lifted her hand to her mouth and then grabbed the water, taking a large swallow. After wiping her mouth delicately with her napkin, she draped it over her lap. Looking around, she found Dr. Patel standing in the corner, her sharp gaze moving about the room. With a smile, Sadie sat quietly, but underneath the table, she took the pills that had never left her hand and maneuvered them into her jacket pocket.
As she picked at her meal while craving bacon and eggs, her gaze wandered across the dining room, cataloging the familiar faces she’d begun to recognize. Blond Bob sat ramrod straight at a corner table, her precision-cut hair looking freshly styled despite the early hour. She was methodically consuming what appeared to be a deconstructed acai bowl, each spoonful calculated for maximum nutritional impact.
Dark Curls sat near the back, her long hair catching the morning light as she sipped her beverage. Even at eight in the morning, she looked like she’d stepped off a magazine cover, her velvet tracksuit somehow coordinated perfectly with the spa’s decor.
Grouchy Grandma was already in full form, complaining to her server about the temperature of her herbal tea and the firmness of her gluten-free toast. The poor staff member nodded with practiced patience, undoubtedly accustomed to managing difficult guests who paid premium prices for the privilege of being demanding.
Desert Barbie had claimed a table near the windows, her over-bronzed skin practically glowing in the natural light. She was smiling as one of the staff photographed her breakfast from multiple angles with what appeared to be a professional-grade camera. Desert Barbie managed to lean far enough to smile at the camera, ensuring she would be on the spa’s social media presence.
