More Than Sorry

3: He Misses His Girl

ZACH

It's one A.M.

My head aches like I got hit by a truck that reversed and came back for a second shot. Head low, waiting for the elevator, I take off my glasses and rub my eyes with my palm.

It doesn't help.

Every light is too bright. Even the elevator chimes are too loud, and each soft ping stabs like a knife through my brain. I welcome the pain. It's the signal I'm finally going home.

Eighteen-hour days used to be a badge of honor for me. Not anymore. Eden changed everything.

The mirrored elevator walls reflect my dopey smile when I step inside. I can't help it. If Eden's on my mind, I'm smiling.

She's the best thing that ever happened to me.

There's no point denying I was miserable before I met her. I was on the fast track to forty, single, and with no damn future other than the blur of endless work I trawled through behind my desk. A shot at partnership and wealth? Yeah. Great. That security is what I've been working toward my whole career. But sometimes, life hits you in the guts, and you realize success is meaningless if you don't have anyone to share it with.

Eden gave me a purpose. A better reason to keep getting up in the morning. And even if neither of us has been brave enough to whisper the magic words yet—the whole 'I love you' thing—I know she's the one for me.

When the elevator chimes at the ground floor, I know that dopey smile is still on my face as I stride into the foyer.

No surprise that my quick footsteps alert Carlton. That man doesn't miss a thing.

Face beaming, he looks up from the security monitors lining his desk and waves. "Looks like another late finish for you, Mr. Rawles."

"Am I the last one out again?"

He chuckles. "Afraid so. A few stragglers from the litigation team left an hour or so ago."

I nod. What do I say now? Small talk isn't my thing. I make an effort with Carlton because he reminds me of my dad, but words don't always come easy for me.

My gaze falls on the half-eaten cherry cookie sitting by Carlton's coffee mug. Empty food containers are stuffed in the bin under his security desk. I rub my chin, half expecting to wipe away drool. I skipped dinner again—an occupational hazard—and I would wrestle a bear for the last crumbs of what looks like tapas from my favorite restaurant.

"You score Montecito for dinner tonight?" I ask Carlton.

He doesn't respond, his eyes darting all over the lobby. I'm terrible at reading people, but even I can tell his response is weird.

"How'd you manage that?" I press on with a smile that's probably more awkward than friendly. "I assumed Eden was the only one blessed with those magical powers."

"Aaah..."

My eyebrows raise. Still weird. I'm no criminal lawyer, but everything about the way Carlton is acting screams guilty.

Carlton bursts into a big smile."Now, don't be too mad at me, Mr. Rawles. Your little lady gave up the goods without too much of a fight."

Wait. What? My eyebrows furrow. "Eden was here?"

"Only for a few minutes. I buzzed her up. Didn't you see her?" He frowns. "She seemed like she was in a bit of a hurry. Didn't say much before she high-tailed it out of here."

My thoughts are stuck on repeat. Eden was here? That doesn't make any sense. How did I miss her? I was in my office. My memories are a blur of contracts, but other than a quick trip for a coffee and bathroom pitstop, I was chained to my desk the whole night.