Quickly rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I cut the water and dry off at record speed, eager to return the call. She was supposed to be stopping by the women’s shelter this evening, so this is likely the update I requested about Lettie.
While I’m slipping on my boxers, Amber answers on the third ring. “Hey, Tomer. How are you?”
“Is Lettie all right?” No sense beating around the bush.
“I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking,” she jests. Her upbeat tone eases my worries some. “Lettie is also fine. And dang. She’s beautiful. Good job on that.”
Yeah, but I fucked it up. “She’s good? You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Just spent the last twenty minutes chatting with her. Total sweetheart. And she has quite a fan club here.”
“I’m not surprised. People tend to gravitate toward light and warmth. And she’s that and more.”
“Wow,” Amber whispers. “You’ve got it bad, man. Not that I disagree with you. And her accent is adorable. I could tell she was trying to suppress it, and it made me love her more.”
Same.
Once I found out that Lettie was going to stay at the Langley Foundation’s women’s shelter, I contacted Amber immediately. Having designed the security system for the facility and worked with the Langleys on various projects, I have a nice rapport with her and her brother. Sadly, they’re related to the Amos-holes by marriage, but I was able to forgive them for that.
Mostly.
At least they picked decent Amos-holes to marry instead of that Millie Amos. Sue’s poor brother got saddled with that one.
When I don’t add anything further, Amber takes control of the conversation like the no-nonsense person she is. “Listen, Cort’s going to be here to pick me up any minute, so I’ll get right to it.” She pauses for a loud inhale. “Ugh. Sorry. I can’t breathe. This baby is sucking all the oxygen from my entire body.” Another harried breath. “I’ll be sharing only the essentials without breaking Lettie’s confidentiality. For starters, she seems comfortable here. Loves her room and all that. I told her I could make whatever arrangements she needs for her meals, which she declined. The case of sealed water bottles and a chiller were delivered to her room today, along with some sealed juice bottles and some packaged snacks, per your request. She said she feels safe at the facility, and I asked her in no less than three different ways just to make sure she wasn’t trying to placate me. And no, she wouldn’t take the upgraded room I offered.”
“Did you leave your number with her in case she thinks of something she needs?”
“Yes, Tomerrr,” she drawls, a slight growl broadcasting her annoyance.
“Sorry. She’s been through a lot of bad shit lately. I only want to ensure she has the best of everything.”
“She does. And I’m annoyed with everyone these days. Don’t take the growl personally.”
“Noted. Any issues with the security system?”
“No concerns have made it to my ears. Far as I know, it’s business as usual.”
“Excellent.”
With nothing else of substance to discuss, we end the call a few seconds later. Any tension remaining in my body that I didn’t sweat out at the gym or wash off in the shower quickly releases, causing my muscles to sag and posture to slump.
I sit on the edge of my bed for a while, losing track of time. My thoughts don’t swirl or race. I’m not obsessing over vengeance or work demands.
It’s just . . . peaceful.
After a few moments of silence, my phone signals an incoming text from sugar bear. Instantly, my pulse spikes. Not with anxiety or adrenaline.
It’s pure excitement.
Every time she reaches out, I become happier and closer to whole.
The content of her text is a bit unexpected.
Sugar Bear:
It’s 8pm. Time for my shower. ??
Why in the hell would she tell me that? I thought we’d talk. Maybe flirt some more. Is she explaining why she’ll be delayed?