Fight or Flight(86)
Her anger toward me hurt, but I suffered through it, clinging to the hope that her resentment was temporary. That she needed someone to be livid at other than herself. Someone she knew would take it and still be there for her in the end.
Later the next day, despite my disappointment and agitation that I wouldn’t be able to hover over her every five seconds, I was actually a little relieved when she left with Jason. Despite my rational understanding of her motivations, I was injured by her grievance with me.
When I hugged her gently, she didn’t hug me back. After all I’d been through that weekend, being her emotional punching bag bruised worse than I’d expected.
It wasn’t until after she’d left that I realized how drained I’d felt in her presence.
Still, I’d only let her leave under the vow that she pick up her cell when I called. Jason gave me a look that promised me he’d keep me updated even if Harper didn’t.
“I’ll be out tomorrow evening to the house to check on you.”
She’d ignored that but once again Jason nodded, thanked me, and bid me good-bye.
Then I cried when they left.
There was so much to cry over the tears took a long time to stop. When they did, I was no longer stunned by the realization that the one person I wanted to comfort me was Caleb. I knew if I called him, he’d come. He’d already called and texted me several times over the last two days. He and Jamie were eager for an update on Harper and even suggested he come over. And although I wanted him there, I knew Harper was embarrassed that the two brothers had witnessed Vince’s abuse, so I didn’t allow it.
Now I wished he would call again.
But he didn’t.
And for some reason that made me want to cry more.
Instead, I gave myself a stern talking-to and spent the rest of the evening cleaning the apartment and keeping myself busy so I didn’t have time to think.
Twenty-five
The next morning, I was barely able to concentrate at work between thinking about Harper and the Scotsman who had swept into my life and turned it upside down. Harper hadn’t replied to my texts, so I had to call Jason for an update, which pissed me off.
“She’s fine,” Jason assured me.
“Good. I have to get back to work. I’ll be over tonight around seven, if that’s okay?”
“I’ll be at the restaurant, but Gillian wants you to stay for dinner.”
“I can do that. Thanks.”
We got off the phone, and the urge to call Caleb and tell him how hurt I was by Harper’s misdirected wrath was strong. But calling him wouldn’t be enough for me.
Before I could rethink it, I texted him.
You free for lunch?
His reply was gratifyingly speedy.
Caleb: A quick one, aye. Can you meet me at my office? 12:30 p.m.?
I smiled and texted him that I’d be there.
Not long later I walked into the tall granite building in the Financial District that housed a number of different companies, including Koto Tech. Walking over to reception, I told them who I was there to see and they called up to Caleb’s office.
The receptionist handed me a temporary security pass. “Tenth floor.” She gestured to a bank of elevators.
I flashed my pass at security before I got on the busy elevator that let me off on the tenth floor. I was greeted by a large reception area with a huge reception desk in its center. On the curved wall behind the desk hung engraved silver letters that read “Koto Technologies.” There was a half-moon-shaped gray couch situated around a glass coffee table. A woman in a tailored suit was waiting there, her laptop open on her lap, her fingers moving with super speed over the keys.
A young man sitting behind the reception desk wearing an earpiece stared at me, so I moved toward him, my high heels clicking on the shiny black tiled flooring.
“Ava Breevort.” I smiled. “Here to see Caleb Scott.”
The young man nodded. “You’re expected.”
“Miss Breevort?”
I glanced to my left to find a woman of indeterminate age staring at me. She was dressed in a light gray pantsuit with a soft pink blouse underneath. Her ash brown hair was cut short in tight spirals and she was immaculate from top to toe, from her smooth, wrinkle-free umber skin to her pearls and Prada loafers.
“Yes?”
“I’m Elizabeth.” She held out her a manicured hand. “Mr. Scott’s personal assistant.”
I shook it. “Nice to meet you.”
“The meeting he’s in is running a little late, but I have coffee for you while you wait.” She gave me a small smile before turning around to walk down the corridor beyond us.
I followed as we stepped from tiled flooring onto carpet. The whole place still smelled like fresh paint. We wound our way past individual offices until we came out into an open space that housed a desk and a waiting area. Behind the desk was a large office door with a silver plate on it that read “Caleb Scott, CFO.”
I couldn’t help but feel more than a prickle of pride for him and his success.
Elizabeth walked over to a table by the seats in the waiting area where there was a coffee machine. “How do you take it?”
But before I could answer, Caleb’s office door opened and something fluttered in my chest at the sight of him. He had the door braced open with one hand and was looking down at the individual who was currently standing half in, half out of his office.