And I’d been doing so damn well all morning, not thinking about him.
I stare at that blue unread dot for a ridiculously long time, until I simply swipe up so it’s out of sight and get to work on answering every other email that follows it.
But the existence of the email, the “Progress update,” stays in the back of my mind, mocking me, and it brings out an anger I really wasn’t expecting.
How dare he just email me?
What the hell does he want to update me on?
There’s nothing to rehash. Last night was pretty self-explanatory.
I’m not looking at it, at least for now, because I would certainly only fuck things up further if I write back now.
Yes, later. When I’m calmer and have a clearer head.
I clean up the kitchen and go back to my research. Getting lost in a new project helps me once more push it all away.
But when the workday ends, I can’t ignore it anymore.
I want to.
I really, really do.
And that’s what finally turns on a lightbulb in my head.
The castle.
I’ll go to the castle.
I’m sprinting up the stairs before the thought has fully formed, and pulling down my weekender bag to fill it with some essentials, even though I have a full closet waiting there for me.
Nothing can replace my favorite sweatpants and hoodie, though. They’re both perfectly worn in, softer than a baby’s ass, so I throw them in and go gather my toiletries from the bathroom when my phone starts to ring in my pocket.
For an awfully long second, I imagine it’s Noah, calling to demand an answer, tohash things out, to let me down gently.
Then I shake my head.
He wouldn’t do that, I don’t think.
At least not on the same day he sent the email.
He probably has more self-respect than I do.
I pull it out and sigh in relief at the name on the screen.
There are some people—if you’re lucky enough—who can make you feel better in all ways with a simple call, even before any words are exchanged.
“Gab.” I sigh out the name in greeting.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, not needing more than a second to correctly guess my mood.
“A lot,” I answer truthfully.
“I was only calling to catch up, but now look at that, my morning’s completely free. Tell me.”
It might sound pushy to other people, but to me it sounds like love and home.
Yes, Gab’s a gossip shark, but she cares.