Chance(21)

My bottom lip quivers but I don't respond as he pulls his gaze from me before he opens my office door and disappears down the bustling corridor.





Chapter 16


"Who knew Caleb Foster was such a raging bitch?"

I have to physically push my hand into my lips to keep myself from spitting out my dinner. I turn to look at Graham. He's holding a glass of wine in one hand and a fork in the other.

"You're not actually considering talking to him again, are you?"

I shrug my shoulder while I chew quickly. "I don't know. We've argued before."

"Arguing is one thing, Rowan." His index finger flies into the air towards me. "You two didn't have an argument. He just lost it. That's an entirely different thing."

I can't disagree. It's been more than a week since Caleb stormed out of my office. I was tempted to call him the next day to smooth things over but my pride wouldn't allow it. Instead, I'd busied myself on a new project at work and had dragged Ivy to a Broadway play and yoga class a few times. If I can keep my mind occupied, I can keep it from wandering to thoughts of Caleb.

We've gone weeks, and even months, at times without talking but we've never left things in such a difficult place before. Whenever we've argued in the past, one of us has reached out to the other within a day or two. It's not happening this time and even though part of me is in full-on panic mode over the idea of never talking to Caleb again, I can't bring myself to call him or send him a text. I know if I do, I'll be pulled back into his feud with Asher. I need to move my life forward and if that means creating distance from the Foster brothers, I'm going to stay on that path.

"I'm going to start work next week," Graham handily changes the subject and I'm grateful for the unexpected shift.

Since we've been roommates, Graham has spent most of his days sitting in the apartment, wallowing in the grief of his divorce. I haven't asked too many questions about his career goals mainly because each time I've brought up anything to do with his life before he left New York, he immediately dives into a conversation about his marriage. He's always made certain that his part of the rent was in my hand before the first of the month, which is the only thing that really matters.

"That's great," I offer cautiously. "Where are you working?"

"Here and there." He flips his hand in the air between us. "I'm actually going to be a personal assistant."

"Where?" I stop myself when I see him cock a dark brow. "Or is it who? Who are you working for?"

"Libby Duncan," he almost screams her name out as he claps his hands together. "I'm the new personal assistant to Libby Duncan."

I'm not a theatre buff. I don't line up to grab tickets when a new play or musical opens. I've been to two Broadway shows in the past six months and both of those have been with Ivy. Libby Duncan was the star of one of them and after the performance I watched as Ivy warmly embraced her. They're friends and I'm guessing that's how Graham got the upper hand in landing that sought after job.

"Ivy took me to see her in that new musical," I begin before I realize I can't remember the name of the production. "She was incredible. She's really talented."

"She's the best." He lifts his wine glass in the air. "It's a grueling job but I'm up for the challenge considering I get to watch her perform in eight shows every week."

I can't help but smile. This is the first time I've seen any excitement on Graham's face since he moved in with me. "It sounds like it's going to be a blast."

"The job comes with a shitload of perks." He scratches his chin. "The salary is insane too."

I'm genuinely happy for him. He's been through the emotional wringer this past year and if anyone deserves to find happiness, it's Graham. "You're not going to forget about me now that you'll be hanging out with Broadway folks, will you?"

"I'm right there whenever you need me, Row." He reaches across the table to pat the top of my hand. "If you call, I'll come running."

***

I adjust the pillows behind my head as I try to type out a text message to Asher while I'm on my side in my bed.

I'm getting worried. Call or text. Please.

I stare at the phone for what feels like ten minutes waiting for a response. I get absolutely nothing back in return. I slide my thumb over the screen. I open the clock app and then wince when I realize the current time in Brussels. If Asher has already made his way over there, he's fast asleep at this point. Badgering him with another call or another text won't help the situation. I know that he'll call when he's ready and until then, I have to stay clear minded and focused on my life.

I close the app and open my messages back up again. I reread the one I received earlier from Tyler Monroe, the man Ivy's intent on setting me up with. It's nothing more than a cordial greeting asking how I am. I start to type a response before I delete it.

My heart may be ready to venture out into the world again, but my mind isn't. I'm too tired to start up a text conversation with a potential date. I need rest and the only way I'm going to find that is if I shut off my mind, put my phone on the bedside table and drift off into a deep sleep.