Page 93 of On the Run
“Speaking of which, remind me to tell you about Fenn’s competition with my new brother-in-law.”
I was nearly swayed—nearly—but I shook my head. “Next time! Really must dash if I’m going to be beautified by this evening.”
Especially since I could sense I’d need a good cry first.
* * *
At nine,after a hydrating mask and a bubble bath, I got dressed in my tightest jeans—the ones that showed my bulge to perfection—and my black Berluti Scrittos. I took twenty minutes to fix my hair. And I was stepping out of the Lyft in front of Dive before I realized I was being an idiot.
I didn’t want to go to a club. I didn’t want a hookup with someone like freakin’ Aron, who had started my life down this ridiculous path in the first place. The gorgeous men who thronged the late-summer streets left me cold.
I wantedBeale.
And yet the second my feelings touched the edge of potential hurt, I flinched and ran like an animal bumping up against an invisible fence, because I was nothing if not consistent.
My family disowned me? I ran from expectations and hid behind Hagatha.
My heart got broken? I ran from relationships.
Paparazzi came out of the woodwork after the Jayd debacle, and I got scared? I ran away from home to bury my head in the sand.
I fucked things up with Beale? I ran back to the city.
My one attempt to repair things didn’t hit right? I was going to chuck everything away again.
Except I wasn’t. Not this time.
It wasn’t enough to simply fight hard when things seemed hopeless. I was pretty sure you had to keep fighting over and over, which sounded exhausting until I remembered thatBealewas the prize, and that was worth anything.
So what if he hadn’t read my article? So what if my grand gesture had, in the end, fizzled? This wasn’t the final nail in the coffin. It was not the end of the line if I didn’t allow it to be. I would go back to Whispering Key and sort this.
First thing in the morning.
I pulled out my phone and ordered myself another Peanut Butter Party delivery, stat, vowing it would be mylast, no matter what happened. Then I got a chicken phall roll from my favorite Indian place on Macdougal and ate it as I walked home, pausing to watch the kittens in the window of the pet store just a block from my building. None of the felines were as antisocial and weirdly adorable as Marjorie, but one was a pretty ginger who sort of reminded me of her, and…
Okay,fine. I was a mere mortal, and no more could I take. I couldn’t wait for the next day. I couldn’t wait another minute. I got out my phone—which was Beale’s phone—and dialed his number with a mouth gone dry. I would tell him how I felt. I would apologize. I would ask howhefelt. I would…
Voicemail.
Fuck.
“Um. Heya, Beale. So, it’s me… Toby Elford.”
Jesus Christ, how had I ever graduated kindergarten?
“I was just calling to say hi. And Mason said a plague of food poisoning hit the island, so I wondered how you were. And I think I owe you money. And also an apology.”
I ran out of breath and choked on my own saliva as I gasped air into my lungs, since my family line had clearly not evolved to the point where we could speak and breathe at the same time.
“So maybe.”Cough. “You could call me back? My number is…” I coughed some more. “Um. Actually. I guess it’s probably already on your phone, since that’s how phones work. Ha! Well. Alrighty, then. Hope you’re well. Um. Bye.”
I closed my eyes and smacked the phone against my forehead repeatedly. Had I actually just left a voice message in which I overtly referenced gastrointestinal illnessandaspirated my own spit simultaneously?
“Why must you always be such an overachiever, Tobias?” I moaned.
Thank God my readers couldn’t see me.
But the good news was that when you hit bottom, there was nowhere to go but up, right?
