Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(55)

Trystan's phone buzzed and a text notification blocked my view while I was checking the time.



* * *



Natalie: Haven't heard from you, but we have plans tonight, right? So looking forward to "dinner." What should I wear? Or what shouldn't I wear? ;-) Xoxo



* * *



I reared back from the screen as if the text was a literal slap in the face. Nothing like a booty text to remind you to keep your wits about you. I couldn't resist the snarky text I sent to Trystan.



* * *



Natalie wants to know if you guys are still on for tonight, and what she should or shouldn't wear. Wink, wink. Should I postpone her until you're back in New York next week?



* * *



Dots immediately danced across the bottom of the screen then disappeared. Agonizing seconds passed.

The phone rang as I stared at it. Suit Monkey.

"Hi," I managed.

"What in the hell was that?"

"What?" I asked and shrugged my shoulders even though he couldn't see me.

"Just . . ." Trystan exhaled roughly. "God, Emmy."

The sound of his voice brought my insides to a simmer. I squeezed my eyes closed. "What Trystan?"

"Do you want me to go? To postpone it?"

I winced. He had me there. Why did he have to turn it around on me? "Do you want to?"

There was silence. And I found myself pulling on a thread of my sweater. And pulling and pulling.

This was ridiculous.

Trystan broke first. "You've been avoiding me."

"I haven't."

"Emmy, I'm not an idiot. You are talking to the prime-minister-in-chief of all avoidance. Trust me. I know it when I see it. Are you okay after last night?"

"The prime-minister-in-chief? I don't think that's a thing."

"It's a thing." I could hear the laugh in his tone. "Because that's my title. I even had cards made."

"Huh," I acknowledged.

"So?"

I bit my lip. "So, what?"

"You're exasperating," he said. "And I don't think I've ever used that word."

"Er no. You can add the prime-minister-in-chief of that to your list of titles too."

"What's going on, Emmy?"

"Nothing. So what's the latest?" I sang, leaning back and putting my feet up on the chair in front of me. "I missed the episode of the Young and The Restless that just ended in the staff break room, so I could use some of your family drama to tide me over."

"Emmaline."

"Oh God, don't. That's what my boss calls me. And to think I used to love my name."

"Apologies. That won't do. Speaking of. Did you get that situation with your boss sorted out?"

"I did. He wants me to call-in to the pitch he's doing at noon."

"That's—"

"In a couple of minutes. I know."

"How's David today?"

I smiled. "He has zero recollection of what happened yesterday."

"Impossible!" Trystan huffed. "He and I had a connection. How does he not remember me?"

"He didn't mention you, sorry," I said, grinning.

"I'm so hurt."

"You do seem sensitive to stuff like that," I deadpanned.

"Hey."

"Hey, what?"

"Nothing," he said. "You better go. I need to as well. I'm going to visit some student housing."

I swallowed. I did have to go, but I didn't want to. How did he make it sound so easy and act so cool after last night? How could I be mad at him, yet still be addicted to talking to him? I was a head-case. I sighed. "Bye, Trystan."

"Bye, Emmy."

I noticed neither one of us mentioned making a plan to return phones.



* * *



I sat up straight and dialed in the conference number Trystan had forwarded from my boss.

The line beeped to tell me I was connected. "This is Emmy joining the call."

There was silence.

"Hello?"

"Emmaline, it's Steven."

"Hi, so are we ready to go."

"No, Emmaline. The client cancelled."

"What? When?"

"This morning. Apparently the company is going through some changes, and all budgets are on hold for now."

"Oh, okay. That's a shame. Wait," I said, frowning. "Then why did you make me call-in?"

"To make sure you'd actually do it, of course."

My blood heated like a scolded toddler. "Are you serious?"

"Excuse me? I don't think you're in a position to question me."

"In a position to—" I stared at the phone. The urge to quit right at this moment was so overwhelming I had to suck my lips between my teeth to stop myself saying the words. Tears of frustration sprung to my eyes. I worked my butt off for Steven—often going to all of my clients’ restaurants over and above the call of duty or reimbursement to keep them happy and feeling like I was always keeping them in high priority.