“Should you answer that?” I skim my fingers over my lips.
He shakes his head before he nods. “Dammit. Let me check who it is.”
Pulling the phone out of his pocket, he holds it in front of him. “Rhys.”
I’d ask who that is, but I can tell by his furrowed brow that it’s someone who matters to him.
“You need to get that, don’t you?”
“Athena.” My name comes out like a plea between heaving breaths. “I’m sorry.”
I rub a hand over my eyes, silently cursing his phone. “It’s fine.”
“Give me two minutes,” he says before he turns to walk away.
The sound of a door shutting behind him sets me on a path to the sofa. I plop down on my ass, hoping that once Liam reappears, we’ll pick up right where we left off.
***
It’s been twenty-three minutes since Liam disappeared down the hallway.
I’ve responded to six Wild Lilac emails. I sent a text message to Jeremy asking when he can meet me for lunch so I can pick his brain about my advertising plans for the upcoming holiday season, and I saved a recipe for a southwest chicken salad to the notes on my phone.
I’ll pick up everything I need to cook it and then go to Jeremy and Linny’s house. Their kitchen looks like it belongs on the Food Network.
Mine consists of a hotplate, a small refrigerator, and a pair of mismatched plates with some utensils I found in a drawer when I moved in.
I love cooking, so for now, I’ll take advantage of the open door policy at my brother and sister-in-law’s brownstone.
I still feel at home there.
The sound of a soft knock on Liam’s apartment door almost sends me off the edge of the sofa.
Startled, I twist around.
Whoever is on the other side, knocks again.
Smoothing a hand over my hair, I push to my feet, willing Liam to end his call and get out here.
Two more knocks fill the silence.
Should I see who it is?
I glance down the hallway, but the closed doesn’t open. All I hear is the faint sound of Liam’s voice.
Another knock from the apartment door draws me even closer to it. It could be a neighbor in distress, or maybe it’s that ten-year-old girl Liam gave flowers to.
It can’t hurt to open it, right?
I listen to my inner voice of reason and swing open the door.
“Hey, it’s you.” Darcy, the woman from the pirate -themed restaurant, shoots me a smile. “Athena, right?”
I step back when she pushes her way past me. “Can I help you?”
“You can’t.” She circles a finger in the air in front of my face. “Wolf can.”
My gaze catches on a brown paper shopping bag in her hand.