Page 68 of Cru's Crush

“He asked me to tell you that he’s only keeping your place warm and to hurry home so he can get back to doing what he really loves.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“He’s taken over your duties temporarily.”

“Oh. Um. Wow.”

“Daphne, you did hear me say it was temporary, didn’t you?”

As ridiculous as it was, that I’d already been replaced felt like a knife to my heart. Yes, I’d heardit wasn’t permanent, but what if it became that way? Every dream I’d had for my life came true only to be ripped away from me. I didn’t blame my father or my mum. It wasn’t their fault my dad had a health crisis. It also wasn’t Cru’s fault that he couldn’t drop everything and come with me.

“Daphne?”

I looked at the screen, realizing every emotion I’d been feeling was likely playing out in my expressions. “I’m sorry. I just…” I wiped my tears.

“I love you so much,” he said, putting his hand on the screen. I did the same, wishing so much I could feel his warmth through it. “I’m going to do everything I can to get there as soon as possible.”

“It’s too much to ask at this time of year.”

“The alternative is for the crack in my heart to turn into a break, and soon, there will be nothing left of me.”

“Cru…”

“That’s how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” I hated that my words sounded flat in response to his beautiful confession of his feelings. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Of course. Sleep, my beauty. If you need me, I’m a call away.”

When I wokethe following morning, I immediately checked my phone for news of my dad. There were three missed calls from an Australian number I didn’t recognize. When I called, the man who answered introduced himself as Steve Dorian, the chairman of the board at Cullen House.

His tone was cold, and that he hadn’t first asked about my dad didn’t sit well with me. “What can I do for you, Mr. Dorian?”

“The board has requested we meet with you as soon as possible.”

“Regarding?” I asked.

“We have many matters to discuss.”

“Would one of them be an inquiry about my father’s health or perhaps how my mother is managing?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course.”

“But as an afterthought.”

“Ms. Cullen, you are in no position to?—”

“I’ll be in touch, Steve. In the meantime, do not contact me directly again.”

“But—”

I ended the call and checked the time. It was four in the afternoon in California, so I rang MartinBarrett.

“Daphne, how is your father?” he said after picking up.

“We’re not yet sure.” I explained about the coma and my dad’s current prognosis.

“If there’s anything at all I can do, please reach out.”