Page 82 of The Layover

The line went dead.

29

Carly

I was back to me. Cool. Calculating. Professional. Removed. I didn’t need anyone but my BFFs and my job.

So why was hanging up on Raul and Diego the hardest thing I’d ever done? Why did I want to call them back instead of bark at Daria to not do that to me again?

Why did cutting them out of my life feel like the second stupidest thing I’d ever done?

Marrying Curtis was still the first. Reigning champion of stupid. An idiocy I never wanted to top.

Fuck I missed Raul, Diego, and Eloise. Ignoring them hadn’t diminished the memories. The doubt that leaving was the wrong thing to do. How long until I could get rid of these feelings?

I needed to embrace the single life. To celebrate it. To remind myself what I loved about not being tied down to one—or three—people. Not too long ago, that would mean hitting up the bar with Daria, or Megan, or—

It didn’t matter because they were all in happy, sweet, lovey-dovey relationships now.

And I was annoyed by that, not jealous in any way. How dare they find people who were perfect for them?

Sigh.

I looked up as a shadow passed in front of me, to find one of the investment partners standing in front of my cubicle. Yeah, I was in the office, and had been far more than normal the last few weeks. I’d taken this job because I loved the travel. The fact that I could make my office anywhere.

And now doing so reminded me of working with Diego and Raul, and that sucked.

“Have we met?” Xander studied me, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know we were bringing anyone new on.” The teasing in his voice almost made me smile.

Almost. Instead I gave him a friendly scowl. “Knock it off.” If I didn’t have a job where I could talk back to the senior partners, what was the point?

He shook his head. “I don’t take orders from newbies.”

Asshole. And I meant that in the most affectionate way. “Do you take orders from the person who decides whether or not your next property is investment-worthy?”

“Carly. Oh my God, it’s been so long.” Like that, Xander’s tone shifted. “Can I get you a coffee? A muffin? A new Coach bag to match those amazing nails?”

I wiggled my gnawed-down nails in front of my own face, and looked between them and him. I usually got my nails done right after a job, because I tended to break and chip them while I was working. This time, I’d had other things—people—on my mind. “I’m good, thanks. What are you bribing me for?”

“It’s kind of depressing seeing you mope around the office, and I have an early twentieth century school in New Hampshire that needs a look. You up for a two-day trip?”

I really wasn’t, but he was asking me if I wanted to do my job. Hard to say no to that, no matter how casually we teased each other. “Sure.” It might take my mind off things for a few days. Give me that distraction I was looking for. Let me hook up with someone new and nameless.

The last thought soured in my gut and sent acid surging up my throat.

Maybe not that one.

Our travel agency got me on a flight that afternoon, and I headed to the airport, happy for the distraction and a change in scenery.

Except that sitting at my gate reminded me of when I last did this to fly to Italy. The First Class upgrade was lonely, rather than decadent. My hotel room was the same. I’d slept alone most of my life, even in Milan, but tonight it didn’t work for me.

Even exploring the old school the next day didn’t brighten my mood the way I hoped. Every piece of classic architecture made me want to send Diego a picture and geek out with him. I wanted to hear Raul’s thoughts on how he’d make a better garlic cream tortelloni at dinner. And when the girl at the next table started crying because her kid’s menu gave her a paper cut, I wanted to hug her until she felt better, instead of asking for a different table.

But I did my job, I sent Xander an honest and positive evaluation for the school, and I flew home again.

The harder I tried to slide back into my old life, the more often I heard Raul’s voice in my head. We love you. Come back to Milan.

Damn it.

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