Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(18)

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Suit Monkey: Fine. Try not to read the rest of my email. It's confidential.



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Don't worry. I'm not interested in your self-importance. What did he do for a living that made him feel like he was king of the universe, anyway?



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Suit Monkey: And just text me if you need something. Don't psycho-call me seven times straight.



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At least my first instincts about him at the airport had been correct. What a tool.



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Then you should answer your texts, and I won't have to.



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Three dots appeared and then disappeared. I switched to his email and found the forwarded email for my reservation. I read the address with my jaw set grimly. I was at the right place. Of course I was. This day was just chucking it right at me.

I hit reply to the email then cc'd Trystan himself so he'd get it too when he logged on to his email on his laptop or whatever.



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If no one ever hears from me again, this was my last known location.



* * *



I looked up, face tilted to the sky, as if for a response from God himself but ended up with a raindrop hitting me square on the eyeball.

"Dang it!"

I blinked rapidly, knowing I was about to cry all over again, and hurried toward the rickety metal steps.

I needed my phone back, and I needed to try and figure out a way to help David's predicament, which I wouldn't be able to do until I was back in Charleston in three days time. There was hardly anything I could do in this hamstrung position with no resources and no access to my email. I simply had to suck it up and get through it.

The stairs were old and rusty. A dank smell hung heavy in the air as I descended. The windows of the basement unit were so grimy I couldn't tell the color of the drapes pulled across them. Beige? Brown? The door, however, tucked into a small recess, was painted a cheery turquoise with a brushed brass knocker. I glanced down at the email and read the instructions. Turning around I looked for a combination lockbox hanging under the stairs.

The rain started coming in heavily, pooling on the concrete under my feet.

I followed all the prompts, and for the first time in the whole bizarre day, everything went smoothly. The key turned easily in the lock and the door clicked open.





10





Emmy





The apartment was small but clean and freshly decorated, thank goodness.

I rolled out my yoga mat onto the clean tile floor, worked through twenty sequences of poses until my muscles were well-used and my skin was damp with sweat. Ending in Child's Pose, I finally allowed my mind to slip back into the day's problems, seeing them more clearly.

I would redouble my efforts to find David a bed at a facility near me, though it would have to be quite far outside of Charleston to be affordable. But that was doable. At least I could go and see him every weekend instead of once every month or two. The money I was spending on airfare and accommodation, though not much, could be redirected toward the shortfall in his care. I'd take a second job. I was already sewing little extras from custom orders that came in through the interior design store on King Street. Perhaps I could ask around and increase my load of orders. The small voice in my head calling me a ridiculous Pollyanna for thinking I could make enough to help was surprisingly quiet for the moment.

The other option was to try and get a job in New York.

I looked around me. As lovely as this small apartment was, clean, newly renovated and nicely decorated, it was, for all intents and purposes, an underground tomb. The square footage was smaller than that of my tiny carriage house in Charleston, the couch was actually the bed, and the rent would be at least five times more expensive. Not to mention the lack of charm on the streets outside. Though I'd gladly forgo charm in order to see David somewhere safe, permanent, and closer to me. Another siren blared along the street outside and I sighed. It had taken all my mental concentration to shut out the noises of the city as well as my own thoughts during my work out, now it was just getting annoying. I unfolded myself from Child's Pose to Dead Man's pose, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. My stomach growled and gnawed at my insides.

I showered and dressed quickly, then I grabbed Trystan's phone from where I'd been charging it. I'd have to see what was close by to eat. He'd had about ten dating app notifications and a ton of missed calls from various people. My curiosity got the better of me, and I scrolled the lock screen. That guy Mac called again, two from a Manhattan number, and a sprinkle of calls from various women's names. I wondered if he had a rotation of women to date or if they were family or friends.

Not that it was my business.

He was a good-looking guy. Really good-looking in a raw, sensual way.

My mind cast back to his strong forearms and his piercing gray eyes. Well-dressed. God, I really hoped he wasn't gay. All the good-looking men I met nowadays seemed to be. I hated that my gnawing stomach actually sank a little in disappointment at that thought—it would be a real loss for women everywhere. No, wait, the clues all said he was straight. Those gray eyes had been just a little too . . . hungry. After I found somewhere to eat, maybe I'd have a little peek at his dating apps to see if he was into girls or boys or both. Just out of curiosity, not because I was interested in him.