Page 92 of What I'm Looking For

“Yes, I’m fine. Are you alright?”

Apparently, yet again, my best isn’t enough.

“Oh, yeah.” Struggling to contain all the confusing things I’m feeling in this moment, I let out a big breath hoping it’ll sound more laugh than sob. “I fell when I was running, and I’m a bit bruised. Just being a baby.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that. Anyway. I apologize for interrupting your holiday, but I was speaking with some people from Canaan Industries just now. I’d really like to get the jump on making recommendations, so I need to go over their numbers. Any chance you could meet me at the office to work up a report?” When I don’t answer immediately, he says, “I’d ask Brad Ross, but I trust you to get it right the first time around.”

I bite my lip. Hard. “Um.” I did take Friday off and haven’t worked the whole weekend. But it’s after eight on a Sunday the day before a holiday. Should I stay here and try to figure things out with Will? Or is it too late for that?

“Are you still there Katherine?”

Roland’s voice seems so far away.

I squeeze my eyes to stop the tears threatening to spill. “Yeah.” I swipe my nose with my sleeve. “Sorry.”

“If you can’t come in?—”

“No. No, I’ll do it. Of course.”

“Lovely. See you in an hour?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Cheers.”

I hang up and walk slowly back to the front door. Will’s still there, arms now crossed over his chest, his face wiped clean of any emotion.

I just look at him. Not sure for how long. He doesn’t even blink.

“Maybe you’re right.” I fling words over a rising tide of regret. “I really have too much going on at work to be distracted by this”—my hands dogpaddle uselessly—“drama,” I manage. I squeeze the phone still in my hand. “Will. I really liked spending time with you. But I have to follow my dreams too, and I don’t know if I?—”

His hand is up, palm facing me. “Hey, I get it. That’s what I was trying to say. We tried, but this doesn’t add up, the two of us. Or maybe it’s timing. But whatever, I think we should?…” His voice is completely devoid of emotion, which is much more painful to take than his outrage.

Nodding, I will my eyes to stay dry. “Yeah. We probably should.”

He nods too. “Well. I’ll see you.”

“Yep.” I just keep moving my head up and down. “Thanks.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

And he steps out, pulling the door shut behind him.

Eventually, I trudge back to the kitchen and slam the phone back into the charger. Then I find the note Will left on my fridge.

Grabbing the note, I ball it up in my fist, drop my ass into a kitchen chair and drop my heavy head onto my arms. I don’t have a single love letter from Will to remember him by.

Only this.

Kate —

Seriously?

You were mad at me about Callie?

How hypocritical can you be?

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