Page 12 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter twelve

Gabe

I ’m a fucking idiot.

I told myself last weekend that I needed to stop texting Tess. I don’t know why I’m drawn to her. I don’t know why she chases away my loneliness. Hell, I don’t even know why I’m suddenly feeling lonely. But talking to her last weekend had been nice. Comforting.

And, yeah, I’ll admit it, I missed her this week. Too many times I picked up my phone to text her with something that had nothing to do with work. One morning I snapped a picture of the sunrise over the mountains and stopped myself before sending it to her.

Like the cowardly dick I am, I avoided her all week.

The fact I didn’t need her assistance with anything work related helped.

I was in New York for a few days and my flight home had already been booked.

I spent the rest of the week in the office, catching up on the thousand other things that crop up throughout the day and Tess is doing such an amazing job of keeping my inbox clean that I have time for those thousand other things.

But nearly every minute of every hour I wondered how her day was going. And every morning I looked forward to her good morning text and, yes, even the accompanying emojis.

I actually took her up on her bookstore recommendation and bought a book last weekend.

I camped out in my hotel room to read it, avoiding the hotel bar.

When I finished it, I wanted to talk to her about the crazy, twisting plot that kept me riveted.

I had to stop myself from calling her just to hear her voice for the first time.

Like I said. I’m a fucking idiot.

Now it’s Friday night and I’ve reached the end of my endurance. I keep thinking about her going out to the bars with her friends and I need to know that she’s okay. That she’s safe. That her friends are taking care of her if she’s drinking.

Fucking idiot right here, folks.

I’m not her boyfriend. I’m too old to be anyone’s boyfriend and I’m way too damn old to be her boyfriend, that’s for sure.

Yet I know I won’t sleep tonight if I don’t confirm she’s okay.

Me: Going bar hopping tonight?

Tess: Nah. Staying in. I’m already under my blankie and about to open my book

My relief... It’s stupidly overtaking my ability to breathe. She’s home. She’s safe. She’s not at a bar with men hitting on her or buying her drinks that could be contaminated with whatever shit these douchebags are doing to girls these days.

Whoa, what the hell is this? What’s gotten into you, man? She’s none of your concern.

But yet, she is. Somehow, she became my concern, and I don’t know when or how, or even why. This is so ridiculously inappropriate. She’s thirteen years my junior. She’s my assistant. I’m sure there’s all kinds of rules about fraternization at her company just like there is in mine.

Tess: Did you get a book last weekend?

I grab the book in question and snap a picture to send to her.

Tess: Ohhhh that’s a good one! The second one’s even better.

Me: Bought that one too

Tess: You’ll have to tell me how you like it

Me: So why no bar hopping?

Let it go, idiot! Why are you harping on this?

Tess: Not my thing. I’ll go occasionally to be social. Plus its expensive

I sit back and read that again, then a third time.

Is money tight? I have no idea what a VA makes.

Hell, I don’t even know what I’m paying for her.

Jack set all this up. I make a mental note to ask him what he’s paying her company for her time.

Maybe I should look into this company a little more to see if they’re treating their employees right.

Tess: Are you staying in tonight or do you have big plans?

Me: Big plans with my book. Just like you

And isn’t that a kick to the gut? Like her I’m content to be home. Content to read.

Content to text her all night long.

No. No way. Nope. I’m not texting her all evening like some middle-school kid. I need to stop this madness because this is madness. This is the height of stupidity.

Maybe I should go out to a bar, pick up some woman. But the thought almost makes me recoil. I’ve never been one to pick up a random woman and I’m not about to start now. I don’t want a random woman.

I want...

Tess James.

I want to get to know her. I want to talk to her face to face. I want to take her to dinner and learn about her. She seems like she’s alone in the world. She’s talked about her friend, Amelia, but she’s never mentioned her family.

In the two times you’ve texted she’s never mentioned family, but that doesn’t mean she has none. Get your head out of your ass, Strong.

I practically slam my head back against the headrest of my recliner and stare at my ceiling, examining these shocking thoughts. Where did all this come from? Am I that lonely that I’m latching on to my virtual assistant who lives half a country away?

Or is it, Tess?

No. I need to stop this now. My thumbs are hovering over the keypad of my phone when her text pops up.

Tess: What do you think about cats?

I hesitate. Intrigued. And, yes, relieved that she stopped me from ending this madness because I want the madness.

I crave the madness. I want to swim in this madness.

I don’t know if it’s Tess specifically, or that my life has become so boring.

Now that Pax is out of the house, and Jack moved out years ago, there’s nothing for me but work.

Two weeks ago, two months ago, that was enough.

Until I started receiving good morning texts with smiling emojis and a few exclamation points thrown in.

Have you thought that maybe you need a little more exclamation points in your life?

Damn you, Jack.

Me: Can’t say I’ve really thought a whole lot about cats

Tess: I’m thinking of getting one as a present to myself for my birthday

For some reason my heart turns over when I read this. I can practically feel the loneliness in those words.

Me: I think you’d make a great cat mom

Tess: Seriously? I hope you’re right

Me: Why do you think you wouldn’t?

I wait while the bubbles bounce, disappear, reappear, then disappear again for a long time. I wait and I wonder what she’s thinking and for the first time I wish I could see her face, read her expressions. What’s going on in that beautiful head of hers?

Tess: I didn’t have the best role model growing up

I suck in a breath, surprised at how much I hurt for her. So, whoever raised her was a piece of shit.

Me: I think any cat would be lucky to have you as their human

Tess: That’s sweet of you to say

I have so many questions and I want to ask them all.

What were her parents like? Does she have a boyfriend who takes care of her?

No. I’m sure she doesn’t. Tess wouldn’t be texting another man if she had one next to her and that thought just made me growl in frustration. Holy hell, I need therapy.

I’m getting in way too deep. I should be hoping she does have a boyfriend. A nice guy who takes care of her.

Did I mention that I’m a fucking idiot?

Tess: Have you ever had a cat?

I drag my attention back to our conversation.

Me: No cats. Had a dog when my son was younger

I rarely mention Pax to anyone outside my family, but it seems safe to talk about him with Tess. My gut tells me to trust her and my gut is rarely wrong.

Tess: I bet he loved that

The fact that she doesn’t seem surprised about Pax tells me she must have already known about him. Knowing her she probably researched me when I became her client. It’s not like Pax is a secret. I just tend to keep my private life private.

Me: His name was River. He was a golden retriever

Now she has me thinking of River, and Pax when he was a young boy, and I’m suddenly nostalgic for times long gone.

Raising Pax, working to build my company into what it is today, grieving the life I thought I’d have, were some of the toughest years of my life.

I never knew if I was coming or going, but looking back, those were also some of the best years ever.

While I love and admire and am so damn proud of the man he’s become, I miss my little man.

Tess: River. I like that name

Me: Pax picked it. I never knew why he picked River, but it stuck

“What are you doing?”

I slam my phone face down on my thigh and twist to look behind me. Pax is standing by the steps. A duffel bag at his feet and his backpack slung over his shoulder tells me he’s home for the weekend. Probably to do laundry.

“What brings you home?” I ask anyway.

He toes the overstuffed bag. “Laundry. Who’re you texting?”

“No one.”

He lifts a brow. “I’ve never seen you smiling like that texting anyone, so I’m going to assume that’s not no one.”

I slide my phone between my leg and the chair cushion like if it’s out of sight, it’s out of mind and feel a twinge of guilt that I just left Tess hanging.

Pax hauls his duffel up with a grunt. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He heads toward the laundry room off the kitchen, and I hear the thud of the duffel as it falls to the ground.