Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Wait. It was Sunday. Why was Missy at work?
She’d pulled a lot of extra shifts lately. Did she do that often? Was that my fault? Was I really not paying attention to how often I was forcing her to work? I really needed to open up new offices in other locations. Was I a nice guy, or was Darlene right? Had she been right all this time?
Was I an asshole?
I finally left the confines of the tiny loft and jogged down the shaky stairs as I wondered what kind of boss I actually was. I’d never asked anyone to work weekend shifts, but they picked them up to finish work they knew needed to be done. They were picking up my slack. I guess I really was an asshole leaving so much for them to do. But I was working more hours than anyone I knew … that was what destroyed my marriage. And was destroying my relationship with my son.
James. I refused to be anything but the man I wanted James to look up to. He wasn’t an asshole. And neither was the person who got Darlene to like me enough that we could make James in the first place. Nice-guy Ryan found Missy to help run the company.
And nice-guy Ryan had saved Christie a horrible night and helped us connect, even if it was only for a night.
So what was I doing wrong? I would never call myself any sort of perfect, but I didn’t think I was a complete asshole. Darlene and Christie seemed to think otherwise, but I was trying. Damn, I was trying. I wished they could see that. They liked me at some point, so why did that have to change?
Maybe Nice-guy Ryan was so nice that they didn’t realize I wasn’t perfect. I laughed. “Don’t go that far,” I mumbled as I made my way across the warehouse toward the door.
Maybe the thing they needed was the person I could never be. Something between Asshole Ryan and Nice-guy Ryan.
Chapter 11
Christie
I paced the room while I waited for ten o’clock before I called Mayhew Industries. I didn’t want to call the moment it opened, and if I called right at ten, maybe they’d know I timed myself. I couldn’t have that either.
Finally, I slapped Ryan’s phone against my hand, trying to ignore the fact that I was resigning to using his phone as if it were mine. I didn’t know if he’d give me mine back, but I’d check in for my evening flight tonight and pray that I somehow got it from him before then, but I couldn’t hope for that too much. At this point, and after speaking to Darlene, I realized he wasn’t intentionally keeping my phone from me—that made me feel better—but he truly, genuinely sucked at managing his time.
It earned him a divorce, so I supposed I could show him some mercy.
I smiled when the clock showed five after ten and called the number on the card. Somehow, it went to voice mail, so I left a message. Google had said they were open today, but maybe that had changed. Andrew hadn’t mentioned them being closed.
Were software companies open on Sunday?
Despite the mess I’d been in with Ryan, I was starting to like Dallas. The atmosphere, the people! It was really dense here, but I could get used to that. I’d never be lonely, and it seemed like there were tons of things to do here. I could really move here and soon.
It hit me that I’d still not called my mom, and my heart sank. I’d hoped to avoid this conversation, but sorrow twisted my gut, and I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to tell her everything.
Except everything about Ryan.
I dialed her number and decided to take care of it now. She’d want to hear everything after realizing I was alive.
“Hello there, my dear.”
“Mom!” How did she know it was me?
She giggled on the other end. “I’d wondered when you would call your mother. What’s wrong with you?”
I slumped onto the bed, and wave after wave of relief flooded through me. I didn’t realize how much weight not talking to her had caused, and the thought made my eyes burn and fill with tears. “Mom . . .” And then they came in gushing sobs. I missed her so much, and if I moved here, I was leaving her. Forever.
“Oh, baby, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I tried to collect myself and breathed deeply. I hadn’t cried like that in years. I took small, sucking breaths and tried to collect myself. Mayhew could call back any minute now, I told myself.
“Christie?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m okay. I just . . .” The tears came back again. “I missed you.”
My mother laughed. Loudly. “Oh, sweetie, are you serious? Dry it up. You’re fine. You’ll see me tomorrow.” Her response was so far from what I expected it dried up my tears so fast I didn’t even have words to go with it.