At the bottom of the page, I see Rachel’s name. As my date, she wouldn’t need an invitation, and I hadn’t considered that the publicity department would add her to the press contingent.
Just leave me alone.
I point to her name. “Has this one been sent?”
“Yes. This morning.”
“Hmm.” What will her reaction will be when she receives it? I assume I’ll find out soon enough.
I have another meeting, and when it’s over, I’m not surprised to see a missed call from Rachel on my phone. She didn’t leave a message, but I know what it’s about.
I’m almost too eager to call her back.
Pathetic.
“Hello.” Her voice is flat and emotionless, as if she doesn’t care what I have to say, doesn’t care about me…but I can still remember her soft moans when I kissed her outside her apartment. I know she’s not as indifferent as she’s pretending to be.
Just go away, Landon. Just leave me alone.
Fuck.
“Rachel.”
She’s quiet.
“Rachel,” I say her name again, waiting for a response.
“I received an invitation to the opening of the Gold Dust. I’m assuming it’s a mistake.”
I was right to assume she’d be pissed. I should tell her it had nothing to do with me, but where’s the fun in that?
“Why would you assume that?”
“Because,” she says tightly, “there’s no reason for me to be there.”
She could have RSVPed to decline. She didn’t have to call me to communicate her displeasure.
Maybe she’s not ready to let go either.
“I want you there,” I tell her, my voice low, “with me.”
“Why?”
Oh Rachel! “Do I have to tell you?” I sigh. “I want you by my side, and not just at the opening. In fact, forget the invite, Rachel. Just tell me what I have to do. Let me know what you want from me.” I’m begging again, but I don’t care.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“You’re lying. I can hear it in your voice.”
“No. I’m not.” Her voice hardens. “It’s over, Landon. It should have been over the moment I left your apartment that first night. You should never have tried to find me, and I should never have accepted your ridiculous proposal. That’s the truth. What did you think? You’d ask me to fly across the country with you and suddenly I’d forget—” She stops abruptly.
“Forget what?”
“That I’ve moved on.” She exhales. “Because I have moved on, Landon—and you should too.”
There’s more she’s not saying, and I intend to find out what it is. I’m done feeling like I’m throwing myself at a brick wall. She will tell me why she’s pushing me away, but not over the phone, not like this.
“I have a meeting,” I tell her. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”