Page 10 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter ten

Tess

T he 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.

I point to her full mug with my spatula.

“You’re the bestest friend ever,” she mumbles into the mug.

“You might have said that a few times last night.”

She groans and rests her forehead in the palm of her free hand. “Why’d you let me do this to myself?”

“Me? I tried to stop you, but you called me a party pooper. ‘Tess the Party Pooper’ were your exact words.”

She peeks at me from between her fingers. “Tell me I didn’t.”

“Oh, but you did.” I slide a plate of steaming bacon and eggs in front of her. She eyes the breakfast warily, her lips turned down. “Eat,” I say.

“Did I do anything stupid?” She picks up her fork and narrows her eyes at the eggs as if she’s unsure if she should eat them.

“If you count dancing on top of a table as stupid then yes. If not, then no.”

She tentatively slides a forkful of eggs into her mouth and swallows without chewing, looking off into the distance as if she’s trying to remember the night. Her red-rimmed gaze swings to me. “Your man text you last night.”

I still in the act of fixing my own plate. “I don’t have a man.”

She waves her fork in a circle. “Your client. The one you have in your phone as GS. He texted you. I do remember that.”

Of course she does.

I still don’t know what to make of those texts.

Mr. Strong, or rather, Gabe as he told me to call him, has never texted me on the weekend, nor so late at night.

Yet, when I asked what he needed, more than willing to help, he told me not to worry about it.

Then he was all concerned about me being at a bar with friends.

I wouldn’t say he crossed a line, but he came close to breaking down the walls that he’d erected between us. And that made me feel... I don’t know how that made me feel. Weird. Flustered. Like for a moment he messed with the rules we’d created. Why?

Maybe he felt bad when I told him I was out with friends and didn’t want to bother me.

“Hey!” Amelia pokes me in the side.

“Ow!” I rub my rib and glare at her.

“Tell me about GS. Who is he?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” I settle on a stool at my little kitchen bar.

“Oh, come on. You know I won’t tell a soul.”

She wouldn’t either, but I’m still not telling her.

This is my secret. Yes, I have a small crush on Gabriel Strong.

What red-blooded female wouldn’t? But it can’t go anywhere.

I can admire him from the distance of our texts and emails and I’m mature enough to know that nothing will ever come of this infatuation because he’s so far out of my league that we’re not even in the same ballpark.

We’re not even playing the same game. There’s also the fact that I’ve sworn off relationships.

“Still not telling,” I say as I continue to eat my breakfast.

Amelia harrumphs but thankfully doesn’t push it.

“You didn’t talk to Conor last night,” she says instead.

“We talked.”

She tries to poke me again but I arch out of her line of fire. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

I sigh. “Nothing can come of me and Conor, so you need to let it go.” Her matchmaking is tiring and it’s becoming more and more difficult to distract her. For some reason she’s determined to find me a boyfriend.

“He’s a nice guy. Give him a chance. Just one date.”

“No.”

“You’re annoying.” But she says it with a twinkle in her bloodshot eyes.

“You’re more annoying.”

“Come on, Tess.” Her voice rises in a whine.

“No.”

“Stop being ridiculous.” She pauses. “Unless...” She swings her barstool around to face me. “Unless you’re in love with someone else. It’s GS isn’t it? You’re secretly having an affair.”

“Will you please stop? I’m not having a secret affair with my client. I’ve never even met the guy.” He sent his brother to our video conference. If that doesn’t tell me all I need to know, I don’t know what does.

Except he texted me last night. And he seemed concerned.

Stop it, Tess. It means nothing.

Amelia stands to takes her empty plate to the sink. She seems much better now that she’s had coffee and a hearty breakfast.

“I should go,” she says. “What’re you doing tonight?”

“I have a hot date with my book.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles, knowing one night out was way more than enough for me. That’s the thing about Amelia. She gets me. She knows when I need my quiet time, and she knows when to push me out the door.

She disappears into my bathroom and emerges with a clean face, brushed hair, and her shoes on.

“I’m going home to take a long nap.” She kisses my cheek and heads for the front door.

“Thanks for coming out with us last night, bestie.” Then she’s gone and while I love her to death and would do almost anything for her—stopping short of dating any man she recommends—I’m glad for the quiet of my apartment.

Last night was fun, but tiring, and I’m ready for some quality time with my book, my favorite blanket, and my couch.

I take a quick shower and pull on my favorite leggings, long sleeve t-shirt, and fuzzy socks, grab my book, and head for my couch. But first I glance at my work phone. I don’t normally check it on the weekends because a girl has to have some down time, but Gabe’s texts last night have me curious.

I’m actually surprised to see a text from him that came in over two hours ago.

GS: Did you make it home okay?

What’s with the sudden interest in my safety? I don’t hate it. It’s nice to have someone worried about me, but it’s also weird.

Me: I did. Thank you for checking in. How did your meeting go yesterday?

I’ve asked him that in the past and I’ve always received a “good” or “fine”.

Right away I got the impression it wasn’t my place to ask.

If we worked in the same building we’d have the sort of relationship that would encourage a back-and-forth conversation, but we don’t work together that way so I stopped asking.

GS: Not good. Going to have to deliver some bad news on Monday. I’m glad you made it home safe and sound

I stare at my phone screen for a long time. Part of me wants to ask who this is and what they did with my client because this can’t be him texting. Did his brother, Jack, steal his phone? I’m so confused.

Me: I’m sorry it didn’t go well.

I’m curious as to what this bad news is but won’t ask because its none of my business.

I don’t know a whole lot about his job, other than he tries to fix failing companies and is considered to have the golden touch in turning companies around.

Maybe he has a client that’s unfixable. That would suck to have to tell an owner that his company’s beyond saving.

News like that will affect all the employees.

GS: Me too. Did you have fun with your friends last night?

Okay. What in the hell is going on? Who is this man, because he’s certainly not the Gabriel Strong I’ve come to know over the last several months. However, I’m curious as to how far I can take this exchange.

Me: I did. We bar hopped then my friend, Amelia, and I Ubered home. I don’t usually like to go to bars, but I’m forcing myself to be more social

I hit send, now wondering what the hell I’m doing by sharing so much information.

I don’t have to wait long for his response.

I can almost picture him sitting all alone in his hotel room, watching his phone for my answers.

Surely Gabriel Strong has more important things to do than talk about my uneventful night out.

GS: Why don’t you like to go to bars? (Not that I’m encouraging you to)

Me: I’m the definition of an introvert. I like my quiet apartment. But Amelia thinks I need to get out more and I can’t disagree. It’s not healthy hiding away from the world.

GS: That’s an interesting choice of words. Why are you hiding from the world, Tess?

I almost throw my phone down and back away from it because he’s asking for things I can’t give. I hate saying no to anyone—hence why I usually go out when Amelia asks—but this I can’t answer, not in the detail he’s expecting. Instead, I give him a flippant reply.

Me: People

GS: ???

Damn it. I should have known he wouldn’t let it go.

Me: People exhaust me. Last night was fun but it’s time to do what I like to call recharging my social battery.

GS: I see

Me: lol I’m sure you don’t

GS: Why would you say that?

Me: I know who you are, Mr. Strong. I bet your social battery never gets low

GS: Please don’t call me Mr. Strong. You make me feel old. And my social battery has died a time or two. I get wanting to hide

Is he referring to his wife dying so tragically at such a young age? I don’t ask because that’s crossing a line I’m already toeing pretty liberally.

GS: You still there?

Me: Still here

GS: I’ll let you go so you can recharge. I hope you have a very peaceful, people free day

Me: It’s just me, my book, and my blankie

GS: That sounds amazing. Maybe I’ll find a bookstore and buy a book to read

I Google the closest bookstore to him and send the directions.

Me: Don’t forget to buy a blankie too

GS: Always working, aren’t you? Thank you for the store recommendation. Enjoy your day, Tess