Late Call (Call #1)(22)
Author: Emma Hart

“There’s nothing lucky about me walking into your booth. I’ve wrecked more guys than I’ve made.”

“And you did both to me, once upon a time.” He leans in and brushes his lips across mine. “But it was lucky because every time I’ve been in Seattle, I’ve always thought about you. Wondered where you were living, what you were doing, if you’d met anyone or had kids. And now I know.”

I pull back slightly, this revelation making my head spin. “Why didn’t you ever look for me?” Is that hurt in my voice? Fuck. No. Get back in your box, teenage Dayton.

His blue eyes find mine. “I don’t know. I didn’t know where to start, and I was a little scared. We promised each other we’d be just a summer romance, a fleeting fling in a European city. I should have forgotten you the second we got back to the US, but I never did. I was afraid if I found you, you’d tell me my worst fear. That it was just a fling and wasn’t anything real. I loved you too much to hear those words.”

My throat constricts and my chest tightens. I struggle to swallow the emotion in my throat. This… This is what I wanted to avoid. What I never wanted to know.

“I wanted to leave that summer as it was,” he continues, his thumb once again rubbing the back of my hand. “Six beautiful weeks of you and me wrapped in our bubble of passion and love and bliss. I didn’t want anything to ruin that.”

“Maybe… Maybe that was the best idea,” I manage in a voice calmer than I feel inside. Inside, I’m a raging mess of longing and remembering and need.

“Would it have made a difference? If I’d looked for you and found you?” He pushes some hair back from my face in a move that seems too soft. Too tender. Too loving. “Would you have let me love you the way I did in Paris?”

I draw in a deep breath. “At first. But not…after. Not after. Excuse me.” I pull my hand from his and force myself to walk into the ladies’ restroom. I want to run. I want to run and hide and make sense of this shit.

“Remember, call girls don’t fall in love.”

Aunt Leigh’s voice fills my mind, ringing out in my ears and reverberating through my body. The words wrap around me, reminding me, taunting me, striking me, and bringing a pain I didn’t know existed.

I lock myself in a stall and put the toilet seat down. It’s hard as I sit and bury my face in my hands. Call girls don’t fall in love. They don’t feel anything other than physical things for their clients. They don’t feel tingles at the touch of their lips, a hum when they enter the room, a buzz when their eyes darken. They don’t get shivers at a hand on the bases of their backs and their bodies don’t go into overdrive when lust-filled eyes appraise them.

“Remember, call girls don’t fall in love.”

I lean my head against the cubicle wall, staring at a spot on the door, and whisper, “Unless there was always a small part of them that never let that love go.”

***

The new dress Aaron bought earlier is lightweight and flirty while still giving the impression of class. I stare at the water of the pool swirling around my feet and grab my cocktail glass. He’s having a conference call with his dad in the US, which means I have the next while to myself. To think.

Or I would if the concierge didn’t approach me.

“Miss Black? There’s a call from America for you.”

I accept the phone he offers. “Thank you.” I wait until he leaves, and when I’m alone once again, I hold it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Dayton!”

“Liv? Why are you calling me, you crazy bitch?”

“Because I’m half-asleep, and f**k it all, I miss my best friend!”

“And drunk.”

“I’m sorry. Did you not hear that? I f**king miss you!”

Definitely drunk.

“I know. I miss you too, Liv. You’d love it here.”

“Wait. Where are you?”

“Sydney.” I kick the water. “By the pool with a Blow Job in my hand.”

“Babe, that better be the cocktail or I wanna know why you’re talking and not sucking.”

I laugh. “It’s the cocktail. I’ve never seen a bartender blush so much.”

“You did it deliberately. Okay. Enough bullshit. How’s McDreamy?”

“You mean Aaron.”

“Pssh. I want details.”

“Of what? How he’s my client and I’m working?”

“Fuck you, Dayton Lauren Black. If you think for one second that I, your best friend, believe you can sleep in the same bed as that gorgeous man and be at his side most of the day and not want him, you need a slap upside the head.”

I look down and sigh. “I don’t want to talk tonight. Are you free tomorrow? Uh, my tomorrow.”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Skype date?”

“As long as you bring Pop Tarts.”

“On it, babe. Just… You’re okay, right?”

I smile sadly at my feet. “Yeah, I’m okay. No losing my shit over a guy, remember?”

“Good. I don’t look forward to getting on a plane to kick your ass. I’m going to bed now because this chat has probably cost me a hundred bucks already because my stupid plan doesn’t include stupid international minutes. Goodnight, I love you, and absolutely do not be good.” She kisses down the phone and hangs up. I shake my head and grab my flip-flops.

I leave my cocktail on the table and walk to the main lobby. My eyes find the concierge desk. They must have switched shifts while I was talking because now a young guy is sitting behind it. He looks uncertain, his eyes flitting about nervously. And goddamn, I’m a bitch, but I’m using this to my advantage.

I saunter up to him with my best smile. “Hi there.” I look at this name badge. “Steven.”

“Uh, hello there, madam.”

“Dayton Black. I’m finished with my call. Here’s your phone.” I shoot him a dazzling smile and he accepts the phone with a shaky hand.

“Thank you, Miss Black.”

“Steven, I was wondering…” I lean on the counter. “Could you do me a little favor? I need to send a message to someone back in Seattle, but my international thing hasn’t been set up yet.”

“Um. Of course I can. If you just, uh…” He grabs a pen and paper and gives it to me. “Write the details down here. I’ll do it right away.”