I pick up my phone; I really want to talk to someone about it. I groan when I see it’s three a.m. I can’t call Nate, then. Not that I want Nate’s advice. I know exactly what his response would be.Dude, you should have kissed him.Only then does my brain catch up that Chase and I were the only guests tonight. Which is very odd. I know we’re very good friends with them both, but they have other friends as well. Did Nate plan this? Did Chase plan it and ask for me to be invited? No, I don’t know about that, but the thought that I’ve really messed it up and that I can’t talk to him to try to make it right causes me to tremble slightly, and not in a good way.
I open up eSoothe and answer the five questions. I perhaps should’ve done this earlier, when I went to bed. It probably would’ve helped me sleep. Before I hit play on the playlist it’s created for me, I remember it’s not the middle of the night in the States. It’s late, but there just might be someone I can talk to. Carter and I became quite good friends back when we were helping Ru and Nate get together. We’ve kept in touch over the years and it was great to see him at their wedding, where I also met Liam, his boyfriend and the brilliant mind behind the eSoothe. Which of course I already knew about and use regularly, so I might have had a small fan moment when I met him, but he was polite enough to answer my questions, and now I understand some of the theory behind it, it’s even more awesome.
It’s eleven where Carter is. Late, but there’s still a chance he’ll be awake. I send him a quick text just in case and then start the playlist.
I’m halfway through the second song when my phone notifies me of a reply and I snatch it up.
Carter says it’s alright to call him, so I don’t waste any more time. I don’t want to keep him up any later.
“Hey, Noah.” He answers on the second ring.
“Hi, Carter. I’m sorry it’s late. I?—”
“It’s fine, what can I help you with right now?” I appreciate his words, his acknowledgement that I won’t be able to rest until I’ve talked my problems through with someone.
I tell him everything in a rush without stopping. I explain about Chase, the autobiography and possibility of him becoming my client. About how attracted I am to him, but how I’ve been pushing all of that down because of our company policies and in truth I didn’t know how Chase felt until today. So I end with what happened tonight.
“Now he’s sure to go elsewhere to look for an agent, and I’ve even ruined our chance at being friends. It’s such a mess. I don’t know what to do.” I finish with a whine, which I’m not proud of, but it’s the middle of the night and I haven’t had any sleep yet.
“Okay, first, take a breath.” Carter instructs and I obey, drawing in a shuddery lungful of air. “Now, do it again.” He keeps talking as my breathing returns to normal, my heartbeat with it.
“So what do you want to happen? What would be your ultimate outcome?”
“For Chase to not hate me,” I whisper, and I can hear his small sigh from thousands of miles away.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says kindly. I know what he means, but my brain can’t process anything beyond just finding that out first.
“I just want a chance to explain to him.” It’s the only answer he’s getting even though I’m the one asking for help.
“Then you need to communicate with him somehow. If you’re not sure of doing that on a personal level, establish it on a professional one first.”
“What? Don’t mention what happened?”
“Yes, see if he wants to talk to you about business first. Then you can gauge his reaction and take it from there.”
I consider his suggestion for a minute. I don’t wholly like it, as I’d like to clear the air, but it might be a good way to salvage something out of the situation. And if I can get an opportunity to explain, then I will.
“Thanks, Carter. I appreciate the advice. I’ll let you get some rest now.”
“No problem, glad I could help.” I can hear him stifle a yawn.
“Say hi to Liam for me,” I say before ending the call. I sit for a few minutes, thinking about what he said, and I know I can do that. I’m not going to be able to sleep yet so I go into my office and start my laptop. I’m not going to send the email, as sending it at—I glance at the clock—four in the morning is not very professional. But I can compose it so my brain can finally rest. Once it’s done, exhaustion finally hits and I climb back into bed. I reopen the eSoothe app and change my answers to the questions, letting the new playlist help me drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chase
It’s beena couple of decades since I felt this need to not be seen by a single soul. I don’t want to be witnessed, I don’t want to have to talk to anyone, and I don’t want to put on pants.
Childish?
Sure, some would say it is, but I think it’s mature to know my needs and limits.
And when I woke up today with the awful realization that what happened in the elevator last night wasn’t a nightmare, I knew what needed to be done.
I texted my housekeeper, my gardener, my driver, and Elsa, so none of them would come by, and since today is the first day in weeks that I don’t have at least five meetings, I also told Elsa I’m not going to the office.
If anything comes up, I can do a virtual meeting with the video turned off.