Me: I miss you, Mags. Let’s definitely try and get together over break. And I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner. Just know I’m here for you no matter what.
She responds almost immediately.
Maggie: I can’t believe he took away your phone! Then again, I can. Your dad has always been kind of strict. Let’s get together in the next few days. I’m already bored and dying to hang out with you.
Me: Sounds good. We have lots to catch up on.
I smile, telling myself I really need to make sure and meet up with Maggie in the next couple of days. Sounds like she needs a friend.
I need one too.
I contemplate how I should approach Crew next, but first things first. Going into my phone’s settings, I change my password for my iCloud. No way do I want my father spying on me anymore.
It’s still hard for me to believe he did that. Such a violation of my privacy. Especially when I had no idea he was doing it. How many times did he check up on me? Scroll through my photos, my texts, my email? Nothing was off-limits to him and it hurts so much, that he would spy on me like that.
Finally, I come up with something to say in my notes and I copy and paste it into the text box and then send it, my heart pounding in my throat the entire time.
Me: I’m sorry I didn’t respond to you sooner. The moment I got home my parents took my phone away from me. That’s why I haven’t texted or called. I hope you understand. I’m sorry about our fight we had before I left. I feel so awful about everything that happened, but the one thing I never feel awful about is you. I don’t regret what happened last weekend. I wish we could do it again. I miss you so much. Thank you for the lipstick. I can’t wait to wear it for you.
I’m gnawing on my lip, staring at our text thread when the gray bubble appears, indicating he’s responding. My nerves amp up, leaving me feeling sick, and I hope to God I don’t throw up the dinner I just ate.
What if he says he’s through with me? That he doesn’t care anymore? I can’t half blame him. I haven’t talked to or texted him since Tuesday. But he is the one who also sent me a gift today…
Crew: I want to see you.
A little sigh leaves me and I can’t contain the smile spreading across my face.
Me: I want to see you too.
Crew: Tomorrow?
Me: Yes. Tomorrow.
FORTY-FIVE
WREN
I arrive at the Lancaster building just before one, thanking Peter as he holds the door open for me to get out of the car Crew sent. The building is tall, imposing, and I tilt my head back, my heart racing at the knowledge that in a matter of minutes, I’ll see Crew.
“Give your name to the man at the front desk and he’ll instruct you to the penthouse elevator,” Peter advises after he shuts the door, his smile warm when he turns to me.
“Thank you again,” I say with a faint smile, pushing past the nerves that are dancing in my stomach.
I walk into the building, the lobby similar to where I live, and when I give my name to the man behind the massive wood and lacquer desk, he nods as if he’s been waiting for me, the instructions for the penthouse elevator rattling off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times before.
Tucking my coat around me, I make my way to the elevator, the doors sliding open immediately after I hit the button. The elevator is incredibly fast, making my knees wobbly when I exit, and I’m about to knock on the black door directly in front of me when it swings open, revealing Crew.
His hot gaze races over me, and now my legs are wobbly for a different reason.
“Birdy. I’ve missed you.” He opens the door wider, allowing me entry, and when I walk in, he immediately shuts it.
And is on me in a flash.
I’m pressed against the wall, his mouth finding mine, his tongue delving inside. I match his excitement, my tongue circling his, a whimper leaving me when he breaks the kiss to run his mouth down the length of my neck. His hands are on my waist, pinning me to the wall, his thumbs stroking my front.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, his tone full of wonder.
“A dress,” I admit shakily as I reach for his face, needing his mouth back on mine. “Do you like it?”
“I don’t know yet.” He kisses me again, and we stand there in the foyer, devouring each other for I don’t know how long until I’m finally pushing him away, desperate to catch my breath. To get my bearings.
One passionate kiss and I’m overwhelmed—in the very best way.
“Is no one home?” I ask as he wipes at the corner of his mouth. I wore the lipstick but chewed half of it off on the drive over, so his lips only have a trace of red on them.