Page 109 of Before Dawn

Me:I will.

The longing of missing her sharpened as I set my phone down. A quick text thread wasn’t enough, not when hearing her voice could’ve been the one thing to salvage this day. But for now, it was enough to keep me going.

There was a knock at the door, and Morison poked his head in. “The next photographers are waiting for your headshots, andThe New York Timesis asking for an extra five minutes on the follow-up interview about the expansion. Should I push them?”

“No,” I muttered, standing. “Let’s get it over with because I won’t be in office tomorrow.”

By the time I finished with the pictures, the interview, and wrapped up in my office, it was past nine—one of my longest days in a while. Days like these always took me back to the first eighteen months of Elite Rides, when I practically lived at the office, chasing deals and managing setbacks.

I sank into the seat, exhaling as the door shut. Silence, at last. Fifteen hours of chaos behind me. I checked my phone—Abigail’s name lit up the screen.

Red:I’m twenty minutes away from your building.

Me:I can’t wait to see you.

I shut off my phone, navigating the quiet streets with her on my mind—grateful for someone who cared enough to stay. At the penthouse, I dropped my keys and headed for a shower, but exhaustion clung to me.

Pulling on sweatpants, I collapsed onto the couch, my head sinking into the cushion. My body felt like lead—aching feet, a throbbing head, and muscles too tired to move.

The soft buzz of my phone broke through the haze of exhaustion. It was the front desk.

“Mr. Suarez, there’s a Ms. Abigail-Ann Asher here to see you?”

“Send her up, and make it a standing order. Thank you.” I hung up, relief crashing over me. Abigail was here. She didn’t know it, but she was the only part of today worth staying awake for.

The elevator chimed, and I opened the door to find her standing there with determination in her eyes.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” I murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “But I’m glad you did.”

“And you didn’t have to work yourself to exhaustion.” She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over me. “But I’m glad I’m here too.”

A breathy chuckle escaped me.

“Come on.” She slid her hand into mine, tugging me toward the living room.

“I’d give you the full tour, but…” I gestured vaguely, too drained to finish the sentence.

She waved it off. “Not why I’m here.”

When we stepped into the living room, she stopped, taking in the white-on-white aesthetic. “You’re officially the cleanest person I know.”

I frowned. “Hm?”

“Your whole house is white. It’s beautiful. Untouched.”

A soft laugh rumbled from my chest, the first genuine one all day. “I’m hardly here enough to make a mess.”

She arched her brow but didn’t press. Instead, she turned to me and said, “Sit.”

I obeyed, sinking into the couch as she settled beside me, cupping my face. Her thumb brushed over my cheek before she kissed me—soft, slow, calming the restless energy in my chest.

“I need another one,” I whispered.

She chuckled, leaning in again, her fingers threading through my hair.

“Better?”

I shook my head, shameless. “Not even close.”

---