“Yeah, I really am.” But my fatigue and all the possible reasons for it are the last things I want to discuss. “Where are you?”
“Home Depot. Don’t ask.”
I snort, glad I can find even the smallest humor in this shit day, and glad it came from him.
“Look, Jill and Kenneth and I have a long night ahead. We need to go through the shot list and change some things. We’re here with the prop guys. I just wanted you to know . . .”
He draws and expels a sharp breath. “I just wanted you to know I’m sorry for this morning and that I don’t want work to mess up . . . things.”
“Things, huh?” I lean back on my pillow and cross my ankles. “You just don’t want me to cut off your supply.”
His low chuckle from the other end is dupioni silk, smooth on one side, rougher on the other. “Cutting off mine means cutting off yours, so I think I’ll be aight.”
“You’re right.” I close my eyes and let his rich voice wash over me, soothe my nerves. “You have nothing to worry about.”
There’s a pause on the other end before he says the words like air being released from a tire. “I miss you, Neevah. I know I just saw you, but I miss last night. Holding you and . . . I messed up this morning, huh?”
“We both did, but you’re too mean for me to fight with. Let’s not do that again.”
“I’m sorry.” Someone calls his name. “Okay. I gotta go. Jill and Kenneth are side-eyeing me hard.”
“Hey! Is Evan with you guys?”
“Evan? Nah. Get some rest. See you first thing.”
“Yeah, first thing.”
Once he disconnects, I fire off a quick text before I change my mind.
Me: Hey. I need to talk to you about something.
Evan: Tonight?
Me: Yeah. Now?
Evan: Where are you?
Me: At my cottage.
Evan: I’m on my way.