Page 18 of Every Broken Piece
Why do I care?
Because she’s my assistant and I finally have her trained and she’s been the best assistant I’ve had yet. That’s why I care.
But it’s more than that. I’m worried about her, and it’s been a long time since I’ve worried about anyone other than Jackand Pax. This feeling unsettles me. Tess unsettles me and that’s exactly why I shouldn’t answer her. Why I should shut my phone down and go to bed.
Me: Have you been drinking?
I cringe as soon as I hit send because what does it matter to me if she’s been drinking? Except it does matter. I need to know she’s safe, or that someone’s taking care of her.
Tess: LOL. No. I mean, yes, but not alcohol. I’m assuming you were referring to alcohol.
I close my eyes because the relief rushes through me and that unsettles me even more.
Tess: Did you need something?
Me: No. Have fun. But if you drink will you please be careful?
Tess: Of course! Good night, Mr. Strong
It’s the Mr. Strong that has me crashing back to reality. I’m over here worried about her safety and she’s thinking of me as her client. She stopped her night with her friends to answer my text because I’m her client and she’s an efficient PA. The best damn PA I’ve ever had. But I’m still her client.
Me: I think by now you can call me Gabe
What the ever-loving hell is wrong with me? I’m digging myself deeper and deeper and making more of a fool of myself. I throw my phone on the bed and head into the bathroom where I take a cold shower, then crawl into bed. But before I plug myphone in to charge and set my alarm, I check my messages one last time.
Tess: Good night, Gabe
I chuck my phone away from me to keep from answering something maudlin and stupid. Who cares if I haven’t set my alarm or the damn thing will die in the middle of the night. At least I can’t make an even worse fool of myself.
The first thing I do the next morning is swoop my almost dead phone off the floor and plug it in, then check for my good morning text.
There isn’t one and it sets off a frisson of panic that has my heart pounding. There’s always a good morning text. Always.
Except on the weekends. Of course she won’t text on the weekends. I don’t make her work seven days a week.
But I need to know if she made it home okay. I won’t be able to think straight if I don’t know if she’s okay. I’m well aware this has to do with Cara and her accident and those hours of not knowing where she was before the cops came knocking on my door. But knowing the why doesn’t make the not knowing any easier.
I don’t even hesitate when I text this time.
Me: Did you make it home okay?
No bubble pops up. No dancing dots to tell me she’s typing out an answer. She always answers right away.
It’s Saturday. Chill the fuck out, asshole.
Maybe she’s not alone. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Or, I don’t know, maybe she’s still sleeping because itisSaturday morning. I rub a hand down my face and toss my phone on the nightstand to continue charging while I put on shorts and a t-shirt and make my way to the hotel gym. I have all weekend to cool my heels until my meeting on Monday morning when I fly home.
It's going to be a long weekend.
Chapter ten
Tess
The first thing I do when I wake up is stumble down the hall to check on Amelia. She crashed at my place last night—or rather early this morning—because she was too drunk to go home on her own. Which is fine with me. I like having her here.
I peek in my office where she’s sprawled on the twin bed tucked in the corner, fast asleep and snoring, makeup smudged, one shoe on, one shoe off, skirt hiked up. Quietly I cover her with a blanket and tiptoe out. She’s going to be hurting when she wakes up, so I start a pot of coffee. By the time I’ve whipped up some scrambled eggs and scoop out sizzling bacon, she’s shuffling into my tiny kitchen.
“Coffee,” she croaks.
