Page 62 of Conflict
REMEMBER THATplan? Turns out it was a pretty shitty one.
I thought my feigned indifference would push her towards me. I thought my going out of town and not contacting her would make her want me, give in when I finally approached her. But in truth, from afar, Alyssa appears to be completely content with keeping me at arm’s length. So I’d decided far away wasn’t cutting it, and went to Wellsley-Callahan to ask her to dinner in person.
Unfortunately, even though Cheyenne ushered me to Alyssa’s desk with maniacal glee, the woman I was seeking was nowhere to be found. Instead, a guy about my age, with hair a bit too long, was leaving a Post-it on Alyssa’s desk.
Cheyenne frowned and cleared her throat. “Bryan, what are you doing?”
He grinned when he saw her. “Well, since I lost you to Sawyer, I’m seeing if Alyssa’s down for sushi tonight. It’s my turn to cook and I’m just not feeling it.”
His turn to cook? What. The. Fuck.
Cheyenne rolled her eyes just as I’m wondering what he means. “We used to be roommates,” she informed me. Then she turned back to him, her voice getting low.
I took a peek at the note while those two hashed out whatever the hell they were discussing.
I know it’s my night to cook…so how do sushi and sake sound? Meet you at 7?
Yeah, the guy was too fucking familiar with the girl I want to be mine.
Without bothering to leave her a note of my own, I excused myself and left with a huff, vowing to talk some sense it to her—if I could ever get her to answer the damn phone.
It’s been weeks since the dinner with Alyssa and she still hasn’t answered any of my e-mails. I’ve nearly resorted to calling her office phone, since I don’t know her cell number, but even I know that’s going a bit too far. Hell, showing up at her office was probably already crossing that line.
Tough times call for extreme measures, however, which is why I’m leaving Branson another voicemail and wondering why he hasn’t returned my last seven calls. When I finally get ahold of his dad, who tells me Branson’s been out of the office sick, I’m instantly in my car and headed to Belle Meade.
If there’s one thing about my cousin, it’s that he doesn’t take time off work.
I’ve been on the road for nearly an hour when my cell rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, so I answer with hesitation.
“Shane?”
Her voice is fucking music to my ears. Not sure how she got my number, and I really don’t care.
“Hey, sunshine,” I say, trying not to sound too damn enthusiastic. “Stalking me now?”
She scoffs. “I knew I shouldn’t have called you.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. What I meant to say was: It’s good to hear from you.”
Alyssa pauses on the other line, and what she says next tells me everything I need to know. I listen patiently as Alyssa informs me of the drama going on between Branson and Ariana, and when she asks if I’ll knock some sense into him, I let her know I’m already planning on doing that.
“Thanks, Shane. Usually I’d be happy for Ariana to stick up for herself, but what she and Branson have is the real deal.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, sunshine. I’m on it. Trust me, I’ve never seen Branson as happy as he is with your sister, and I’ll do whatever I can to fix it.”
“Is it possible you have a romantic bone in that body I didn’t know about?”
Innuendo is on the tip of my tongue and I can’t bite it back. “You can know about any bone in my body you want, but I’d rather—”
She doesn’t let me finish. “Shane…” she trails off.
And I go in for the kill. “Do you miss me?” I ask, because even though I only had two days with her, fuck, I’ve missed her every single day since.
Alyssa releases a slow breath, and in the faintest whisper, she replies, “Yes.”
Halle-fucking-lujah.
Before I can respond, she hangs up.
