Page 17 of Until Tomorrow (Love Doesn’t Cure All: The Ashwood Duet #1)

Logan

I skipped work. I felt like crap, I didn’t want to deal with anyone, and honestly, taking up space in Elliot’s bed beat going back to my hotel room.

At least his place felt like a home and not something interim.

Besides, I had Elliot’s promise that he’d beat my ass if I wasn’t in his apartment when he came back.

Even more so if he found me at a bar later.

Which I’d end up in the hotel bar if I went back there.

When the hell had I become a drinker? I rarely drank—at least, I never used to. But with everything? Fuck, I was miserable and just wanted to drown until I couldn’t think anymore. It wasn’t my best solution, but it was all I had.

With Elliot at work, I was stuck staring at the forty-three receipts for flower arrangements I’d sent Eva.

Why the hell had I thought forty-three flower arrangements were a good idea?

The money didn’t bother me. But Eva deserved better than my drunken self sending her an obscene amount of birthday flowers.

Yeah, I was a mess.

My phone vibrated as I went through them, and Eva’s name came up. I dropped the phone in surprise and hit myself in the face. Good Lord. I scrambled to get it.

“ Hello, Logan. ” The sound of her voice did awful things to my heart. God, I missed her so damn much.

“Hello, Eva, ” I whispered. “How are you? Is it… okay for me to ask you how you are?”

It was like walking on eggshells. I wasn’t sure what the right or wrong thing to say was.

“ I’m doing just fine, thank you ,” she replied. “ How are you? ”

A mess?

My new best friend was alcohol?

I was sleeping in Elliot’s bed because his empty apartment was less lonely than a hotel?

I missed her so fucking much that just the sound of her voice was ripping my heart out of my chest?

Yeah, none of those were the right thing to say. At all.

“I’m fine.” That was a safe answer—the wrong answer but still a safe one.

“ Good. I’m glad to hear that. I’m calling to ask you to meet with me next week ,” she continued. Her voice never wavered, strong and polite. I would’ve killed to hear some kind of emotion in it. To hear some kind of indication that she missed me as horribly as I missed her.

“Eva…”

“ It’ll only take two hours of your time, and it’s after work ,” Eva continued quickly. “ I can text you all the information so you know where to go. ”

My words caught in my throat. There was no telling what the hell I’d do if I saw her.

There was a part of me that begged to cave—to pretend I wasn’t sexually broken—and plead with her to take me back.

I knew it was wrong. I knew I’d resent myself for it later on.

But God, I missed her. I wanted to believe that I could make it work indefinitely.

“Okay.” I heard myself say the words, even before my brain caught up.

“ Good. I’ll send you the information, and I’ll see you then .”

“Okay,” I repeated. Didn’t I know any other words? I was a lawyer for damn’s sake.

“ And Logan? ”

“Yes.”

“ Look up The Red Mayflower on Instagram, ” Eva said. “ She makes my soap. Ask for the Wildflower Honey bar with pressed flowers. ”

Oh, damn it. She’d gotten at least one of my notes. And of all the notes, she got the embarrassing one about her soap.

Bef ore I could say a word, she hung up on me. I tossed my phone aside and blew out a long breath of air. I was an idiot. A moron. A masochist in some form.

I was something.

I was so goddamn confused. Every fiber of my being missed Eva. We’d spent our entire lives together. Deep down, I knew this transition would take time. The problem was, I was having a real hard time convincing myself to stay the course.

I was torn—fracturing right down the middle—on what was the right thing to do for myself and just picking Eva.

Why the hell did this have to be so difficult?

And as I moped around on that thought, I grabbed my phone and looked up The Red Mayflower with every intention of buying her soap.