Page 55 of Divorced from Number Thirty-Eight
“I really need to grab that call,” I murmur. “I’ll pass on that you’ve called when he gets home.”
“Home? Are you staying at his house?”
Shit.
“Gotta go. Bye!”
I hang up, stomach twisting because I know I’ve just stepped into Gray’s world in a way I don’t undo.
I’ve seriously messed up.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Then I jab at the phone screen so I don’t miss the call from my insurance agent.
It’s not an easy conversation and it’s not short—but Courtney calling back nearly a dozen times plus the copious amounts of texts she sends makes it even less bearable.
Every buzz-buzz has my tension ratcheting up.
Add that in to listening my agent, Carrie, telling me the next steps I need to take and internalizing everything I’m going to have to do—not just to replace my house and car and the personal belongings I can, but also navigating permits and zoning and adjusters…
It’s overwhelming.
And it certainly doesn’t help that I’ve triggered Gray’s nightmare of an ex into sending several dozen text messages and calling his phone too many times (and don’t forget the voicemails she’s leaving).
I rub my forehead, listening to Carrie’s final advice of, “Take a breath, let me handle this, and focus on yourself for the next few days.”
“Right,” I murmur. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Carrie.”
But I know I’m lying to her as we exchange goodbyes and I hang up.
How can I focus on myself when my house is in ruins next door?
How can I focus on myself when I’ve unwittingly unleashed Gray’s ex?
How can I focus on myself when I’m wearing the socks Gray put on me and the pajamas his friends brought and the remote he left is right next to the cookies Bri baked who might share Molly’s strudel recipe with me…all of which is reminding me how damned great Gray is?
I nibble at my lip. “Damn.”
It’s a mess all around.
His cell buzzes again and I sigh.
Talk about a mess.
Courtney’s messages were filled with more and more vitriol as my call with Carrie went on, so much so that I stopped reading them. Right now, though, I can’t stop myself from looking down, gaze going to the banner that’s appeared at the top of the page.
Quickly scanning it, even as I brace.
But this time it’s not from Courtney.
It’s from Gray.
GRAY (via Smitty): Smitty let me borrow his phone.
Okay, right. It’s from Gray from Smitty’s cell.
GRAY (via Smitty): Getting ready to head out onto the ice soon. I just want to make sure you were good.
