Page 78 of Almost Yours
But we both know it’s more than that.
When my phone finally buzzes an hour later, I nearly drop it in my rush to answer.
“Rowan?”
“Hey.” His voice is tired, stretched thin. “Sorry about last night.”
“It’s okay. I figured you were caught up with something.”
There’s a long pause, the static of the connection filling the silence between us. “I’ve had my hands full out here.”
“That’s okay. I understand.” I twist the hem of my shirt. “How are you? Is everything going well?”
“Fine.” His response is clipped, distracted again. Voices sound in the background, and someone calls his name. “I can’t talk long. Just wanted to check in.”
Check in. Like I’m an item on his to-do list. My throat tightens.
“Okay… Well, I miss you a ton, and I can’t wait to see you.” I force a smile into my voice, trying to sound light, easy, like this isn’t the hundredth time I’ve swallowed a pit of anxiety about him being gone. I don’t want to admit how much his absence and my worry is starting to consume my days.
Another pause. “Actually, I do have something to tell you. The assignment’s been extended. Another two weeks.”
The floor drops out from under me. “What?”
“It’s good money, Violet. Really good.”
It feels as if the air has been punched from my lungs. I grip the phone tighter. “Two more weeks?”
“Yeah.” He sounds exhausted. “I’m sorry, Violet.”
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “No, it’s… That’s okay. It’s work, right? I understand.”
But Idon’tunderstand.
“I’ve gotta go,” he says, and I can hear the voices getting louder in the background. “I’ll try to call tomorrow.”
“Okay. Be safe.”
“Always. Love you.”
Click. The line goes dead before I can say anything back.
I stand there in my kitchen, phone clutched in my hand, staring at nothing. Two more weeks. On top of the three that already feel like an eternity. I slide down against the cabinets until I’m sitting on the cold tile floor.
“That didn’t sound good,” Whitley says as she slides down beside me with two glasses of wine.
I take the glass she shoves in my direction. “He’s staying longer.”
“How much longer?”
“A couple weeks.” I take a large sip, welcoming the burn.
“And you’re not okay with it.”
“I’m fine,” I say too quickly.
She gives me a look. “Violet.”
I stare into my wine glass, watching the liquid catch the light and swirl in tiny circles. “What am I supposed to say? That I want him to drop everything and come back?” My voice cracks. “That I’m scared this is the start of him being away more than he’s here?”
