The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(77)

“That’s the spirit!”



…



By the following morning, Josephine still hadn’t called me back. Ten calls, two voicemails, and still no call back. She was either avoiding me or kidnapped in the middle of Texas. I clutched my phone and resisted the urge to call her for the eleventh time. Instead, I changed into workout gear and hit the long trail around Central Park. Exercise always cleared my head and I figured that by the time I was finished, Jo would have finally called. I left my phone on the couch in the hotel and hit the trail.

As I ran, I thought of what I’d do if I moved to New York full time. Helping Dean with his new restaurant wouldn’t take up all of my time, hardly any in fact considering he had a team set up around him to do most of the legwork. He just needed me as an investor, which meant I’d have plenty of time on my hands.

I definitely wanted to stay on with Lorena. I liked working with family and I had good ideas on how to make her business profitable. I could find a new place to live near her new shop and start to really lay down roots in the city.

When I finally made it back to my hotel room, my lungs were burning and my legs were threatening to quit. I ripped my shirt off and walked straight for my phone. There was no call from Jo, but I had a voicemail waiting for me from an unknown number.

I hit play on the voicemail, kicked off my shoes, and headed toward the shower.

“Hi Mr. Lefray. This is Elizabeth Hope from the social media team here at Vogue. I just have a few questions pertaining to your work experience with Josephine Keller as we’re considering her for a position in our Vogue offices. Would you mind giving me a call back at your earliest convenience? Thank you.”

What the fuck?

I replayed the message twice, trying to determine if I’d heard it right.

Jo had applied for a position at Vogue?

She wanted to leave Lorena Lefray Designs?

I stared down at my phone and scrolled to Josephine’s name on my contact list. I knew if I called her she wouldn’t answer; I’d already tried to get in contact with her every way that I knew how. Doubt settled in my stomach like a heavy rock. Fuck. Dean was right. I should have told Jo what I wanted from the beginning. I shouldn’t have assumed she could read my mind. If we were together, really together, I wouldn’t have to worry that she was getting cold feet and pulling away, applying for jobs elsewhere and heading down to Texas to put some distance between us.

I needed to call Elizabeth back, but I gave myself some time to process her message first. I jumped in the shower and ran the water until it was hot as sin, dipping my head beneath it and closing my eyes. I could count the number of times in my life when I’d felt out of control on one hand:

1. When Jimmy Sanders knocked my hotdog to the ground in elementary school and I was too chickenshit to stand up for myself.

2. Right before I jumped out of the plane the first time I went skydiving.

3. When I’d had a one-night stand with a woman who showed up at my place the next day with a suitcase in tow. She’d assumed she was moving in. After one night together.

4. Right fucking now.

I was supposed to get out of the shower, don my suit, go to my mom’s dinner, and sit across from her at the table while she rambled on about something I couldn’t care less about. Meanwhile, the first woman I’d truly come to love was in Texas, completely out of cell phone range and completely unaware of my feelings for her.

I turned off the water, wrapped a towel around my waist, wiped the fog off the mirror, and stared good and hard at my reflection. My eyes stared back at me, challenging me. This is it. She doesn’t know how serious you are about the relationship, and she doesn’t know how valued she is at the company. You either grow a pair and go get her or you regret it for the rest of your life.

By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, I was ready to call Elizabeth back. That is, right after I called my sister. I dialed her number and then pulled my suitcase out of the hotel closet.

“Hey, I can’t talk right now,” she answered with a frenzied voice. “I’m scrambling to get ready for dinner. I just got back to my apartment.”

“That’s fine. I’m just calling to let you know that I won’t be at dinner. Tell Mom I’ll make it up to her.”

I pulled open my dresser drawers and reached for a few pairs of boxer briefs and socks.

“What? No! Why the hell are you canceling last minute?”

I dropped my running shoes into my suitcase, straightened up, and took a breath.

“Because I’m going to Texas.”





Chapter Forty-Seven


Josephine





By the time I stepped off the last Greyhound bus, I felt like a baby giraffe learning to walk for the first time. My knees were wobbly and my feet had lost all feeling at about hour 20 of my 36-hour drive. I needed to charge my phone and check my email, but first I needed to retrieve my suitcase from the growing pile beside the bus.

I’d lost Gladys somewhere around Lubbock, but worry not, for she left me clear instructions to find her on “that internet yearbook”. I’d assured her I’d find her on Facebook and we’d parted ways. For the next few glorious hours, I’d had two seats all to myself. I’d stretched out and stared out at the Texas hill country, wondering what Julian would think of all this wide open space. New York City can be overwhelming; the concrete jungle seems to never end. I was beginning to think that a week back in Texas would do me some good.