“That excited to hear from me?”
“Sorry,” she said, belatedly realizing what she’d just rattled off to him when she answered the call—as though she’d neatly picked up her life, while his was still on hold. “I thought you were Olivia. She’s worried I’m going to blow off this party tomorrow.”
“With her brother.”
“It’s a birthday thing.”
“No worries. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” Her gaze strayed to her desk blotter and the dozens of scorpion doodles populating it. She and Sam hadn’t spoken since he’d left her at the airport in Samos a little over two weeks ago, and she was unprepared for the jumble of thoughts and emotions that swept through her on hearing his voice. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine, actually. Which is why I’m calling. Good news, in fact. You won’t need to return to Greece for the trial. Adrian Kyril pled guilty.”
Remi leaned back in her chair. “When?”
“Apparently yesterday. Rube just called to confirm. He also mentioned that they confiscated the Mirage along with the rest of Adrian’s and his late mother’s assets. Ill-gotten gains from the drug trade.”
“That’s got to be a blow.”
“Doubt he’ll find it of much use in jail. Anyway . . . I just thought you might like to know.”
“Thank you, yes.”
An uncomfortable stretch of silence was made more noticeable when both tried speaking at the same time. They stumbled over their words, until Sam said, “Go ahead. You first.”
She decided on a safe topic. “Did you ever reschedule your investor meeting?”
“Last week, in fact.”
“How’d it go?”
“In the end, I decided it wasn’t for me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Besides, I got the idea from you.”
“What idea?”
“To try to do this myself without the investors. The good news—for Blake at least—is that I’m finally moving out of his office. He’s having a goodbye shindig for me at the Lighthouse tomorrow for lunch . . . I know it’s a last-minute invite, but if you’re free, you should drop by.”
“I . . . have that party tomorrow afternoon. Promised I’d help get everything ready.”
“Right. Olivia’s brother.”
“I
promised.” It sounded so hollow to her. “Maybe if we finish early enough, I can stop by?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. A bunch of guys drinking a bunch of beer, watching the game. I should probably go finish packing up my boxes before Blake calls off the whole thing.”
“Well, it was good talking to you.”
“It was—I mean, talking to you. Take care, Remi.”
The dial tone sounded and an immense sense of loneliness swept over her. She pulled off her headset, laying it on her desk—trying to ignore the regret and guilt she felt by convincing herself she was doing the right thing in making a clean break from Sam.
They had completely incompatible lifestyles, a fact she was reminded of when she walked into the kitchen the following afternoon, where Olivia and her brother Keith were discussing the sorry state of college football.