It was going to be one hell of a long-ass day. The good news was, she didn’t work directly for him. After her meeting with HR, she should be able to find numerous things to keep her mind off him. Who am I fooling? I’m not going to be able to focus on shit until we talk.
She caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Now definitely wasn’t the time. Hopefully a few hours apart would have defused what really shouldn’t even have been an issue, and they could go back to the way things were before she’d opened her big mouth.
As she had expected, the day was about as smooth as her morning had been. HR didn’t seem to have any of her information correct, which was probably because she’d never completed an application. They had expected her to have her resume on hand as well, which she didn’t have prepared. ‘Waitress since sixteen’ wasn’t really going to make her look qualified for the position. There was nothing like a reminder that she hadn’t gotten this job on her own merit. That only made her feel worse about what had happened between her and Dylan. He’d done so much for her, and she’d embarrassed him in front of his family.
Between her meeting with HR, and the fact that she’d blown her rehearsal last night, there was only one thing keeping her in the city, and that was Dylan. And now, she may have screwed that up, too. Granted, Grayson Corp. was a large building, but she’d thought for sure she would’ve heard from him at some point. Yet, not one word. If she couldn’t fix this, then maybe it was time she faced the facts. New York City was a dream, but Mama’s Place was her reality. Was it time for her to pack up again and go home with her tail tucked between her legs? At least she could say she tried her best.
That wasn’t true at all. Even now, as she left the second day of rehearsal, she still didn’t feel good about it. Although the director hadn’t spent the entire night yelling at her, nothing positive was said, either. Probably because another actor had felt his wrath tonight. Sofia could empathize with them, as it was a public lashing, for all to see. By the time you left the theater, your self-worth and confidence had been effectively chipped away at. If you returned after that, you had to be a glutton for punishment. The only good thing about the day was, it was coming to an end.
She wanted nothing more than to go back to the apartment, get into a hot bath, and forget all about today. But she couldn’t soak away the issues between her and Dylan. With any luck, he’d be there and waiting for her.
Wishing for flowers would be hoping for way too much, but then again, I always did dream big.
But when she arrived, he wasn’t there. The doorman was there as usual, waiting to open the private elevator to the penthouse for her. Once she got inside, she sent him a text message.
WILL YOU BE COMING HOME? She read it back and then deleted it. This was his home, not theirs. So she typed again. IS EVERTHING OKAY?
She hit send, but then wished she hadn’t. Was it any of her business? Was she worried? Yes. That didn’t change anything. So she tossed her phone on the kitchen counter and went into the bathroom. There was nothing she could do about it unless he was willing to talk. And since he hadn’t responded to her text, she assumed things were the way he’d left them. Maybe they always will be.
After her suck-ass day and running on little sleep, she dozed off in the tub. The water was cold and so was she. But more importantly, she could hear swearing coming from another part of the house. She climbed out of the bathtub, grabbed a towel, and twisted it around her hair. Then she took a bath sheet and covered herself, being sure to tuck it in tightly before going out to see what the commotion was.
When she arrived in the kitchen, she saw the center island counter cluttered with brown paper shopping bags, but no one was in sight. Someone was there.
Another round of curses echoed through the room, but she knew its origin. Walking around the counter, she found Dylan kneeling on the floor with paper towels.
He looked up at her, then back to the floor. “What the fuck? These paper towels are supposed to pick up anything.”
She held back her laughter, then knelt down and took the paper towels from him. “Eggs are a bitch to pick up. Why don’t you let me do that?”
“No, I can do it,” he said.
“But I have more experience.” He looked at her, doubtful, so she added, “Trust me. I have dropped more eggs than I’ll ever admit to my mother.”
He laughed. “Okay. You handle this, and I’ll try to put the rest away without dropping anything.”
She scooped up the raw eggs but hoped this would be a good time to talk. Start slow. “So what’s all this?”
“Food.”
Duh. “I mean, why so much?”
“Not all of it is ours. Some belongs to…what are their names?” Dylan asked.
“Peggy and John?”
“Yeah, them. I think I have everything you borrowed. Well, I did.” He pointed at the empty carton of eggs. “Guess you’re going to have to give them another IOU.”
She giggled. “I’m sure they will have no problem with that if I deliver the news with a promise of some homemade cookies.”
Dylan paused. “I shopped. Like a guy. Basics only.”
She got up and looked through the bags. Bread. Milk. Juice. Peanut butter. Jelly. “Please don’t tell me you bought frozen dinners?” She took out the box that looked like some kind of meat, with what was supposed to be potatoes.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”
“I would’ve gone and picked it up, but I was hoping that…”
“Hoping what?” he asked.