He didn’t have time to think about Shayla or her absence in his life.
Once the servers and other equipment were installed and booted, and the raised floor panels configured, and all the wiring properly run and labeled beneath them, then came the fun part of making sure everything was online and talking to each other, as well as the data center in Bradenton, and integrated with the telecom departments in both locations.
That went along with putting fires out in Bradenton on a regular basis due to him not being there.
Now I remember why I hate taking vacations.
The first week passed in a blur. He couldn’t take an hour off to eat lunch, much less a day off to catch up on sleep or personal email, and worked straight through the weekend. It wasn’t until the end of the second week, late Friday night Denver time, when Tony finally took a few minutes to check his personal e-mail before collapsing for the night. A few times during the past several days he’d thought about texting Shayla but decided against it. He’d finally remembered to charge his personal cell phone, but she hadn’t texted him the whole time he was there.
Well, I didn’t want clingy.
But maybe she was really over it, and him.
He scrolled through his mail, dumping almost everything, and skimming past a message from Leah nearly a week earlier that he almost deleted by accident. Once he had the dreck cleaned out, he went back to read it.
She included a brief message at the top of the e-mail, followed by the forwarded text from a message Shayla had sent her.
You need to read this, you frigging asshat. WTF is wrong with you? Why the hell haven’t you texted or called her? I thought you gave a damn about her? She’s in love with you and afraid to text you because you’ll think she’s “clingy.” Get your shit together or you’re going to lose her.
Leah.
By the time he finished reading the rough draft of Shayla’s article, his throat felt dry. He called Leah.
“Well, it’s about damn time you picked up a fricking phone, you damn asshat.”
“How is she? I just read your e-mail.”
“Not good, thanks to you. She thinks you don’t give a damn about her. And why haven’t you texted or called her yet?”
He rubbed his forehead. “It’s been crazy out here. This is literally the first time I’ve had to sit down and check my personal e-mail. I thought since I hadn’t heard from her that maybe she was okay with everything ending.”
“No. You apparently did such a damn fine job drilling it into her head that you don’t like clingy women that now she’s afraid to text you first. And she’s convinced since you said you’d be in touch, and you weren’t, that you don’t care.”
“Okay, I’ll call her right now.”
“Good luck with that. It’s early Saturday morning here, asshat. I’m only up because we just got back from a club, and besides—” He heard sounds like Leah had lost the phone.
Then Seth came on the line. “Tony?”
“Hi. What just happened?”
In the background, Tony could hear more sounds, like Leah was trying to get the phone away from Seth. “Um, listen, sorry about that. I’m going to put Leah to bed. She’s had a long day.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s okay. I deserve it. I am an asshat.” At the sudden quiet on the other end of the line, Tony thought maybe the call had dropped. “Seth?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I was just trying to decide if I heard you right.”
“You heard me right. You can put her back on. Don’t spank her.”
“Oh. Okay. Hold on.”
The phone exchanged hands again, because Leah returned, sounding put out in addition to indignant. “What’d you tell him?”
“That I’m an asshat.”
Another surprised silence from Florida. “Oh. Okay. All right then. Glad you see things my way.”
“I’ll call her in the morning.”
Leah sighed. “You won’t reach her. I talked to her before she left work last night. She’s really sad and going off the grid, as she called it, for the weekend. She’s shut off her phone and left her computer at work. She mentioned something about getting drunk and eating chocolate while watching bad movies, and I think she means it. I tried to call her again tonight before we went out and it went to her voice mail. Usually she’ll at least text me back, but she hasn’t.”
If he hadn’t felt bad enough already, that added to it. “Oh. Crap. You know what I’m like when I’m buried at work. I get tunnel vision. This was a nightmare install.” He rubbed his forehead. “I really screwed up here, didn’t I?”
“Uh, yeah. Ya think? First thing Monday morning, I’d say your ass better be on the phone to her.”
“Well, on the off chance you do hear from her—”
“I will tell her I talked to you and that she needs to try to call or text you and let you know she’s got her phone back on, yes.”
“Thanks, Leah.”
“Hey, Tony?”
“What?”
There was a moment of quiet tension before she asked, “Is she the one?”
He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yeah,” he quietly said. “If I haven’t gone and fubared it before we even had a chance, I really do think she’s the one.”
Shayla refused to read any romance novels that weekend. She couldn’t stomach the thought of reading about someone else’s happy ending when hers had been yanked right the hell out from under her.
She also didn’t want to contemplate how in the hell she’d ever meet someone else like Tony. No, she didn’t have any official confirmation that all hope was dead in the water, but she was a realist. After having been screwed over with James, it was easier to accept the worst instead of hoping for the best.
Hoping for the best had gotten her over fifteen grand into debt she didn’t even owe.
Going back to a vanilla life wouldn’t be possible. She’d entered a whole new world, one she knew meant she’d never be satisfied settling for a vanilla guy.
I refuse to think about it this weekend.
Instead, she spent the weekend going around the world via microbrewery beer.
She hoped she had room in her recycling bin for all the bottles and cans.
She also moved her car keys into her underwear drawer. She didn’t think she’d be stupid enough to try to drink and drive, but if she got so plastered she forgot that, she’d probably never remember where she put them until she sobered up.
Or had to change her panties.
By Saturday evening she’d severely tested the endurance of her liver. She spent the day watching every stupid movie she could think of that she’d never watched before for the very reason that they were stupid. Beer, however, made everything funnier.
It also made it easier not to think about Tony Daniels.
I’m going to get a cat next week. This is ridiculous. I need a life. I’ll get a cat.
When the thought of a Facebook meme she’d seen, of an IKEA cube organizer filled with a cat per space, crossed her mind, she giggled.
I’m not so drunk I want to be a crazy cat lady either. One’s my limit.
By Sunday afternoon she’d run out of beer and let herself sober up. She wasn’t completely hungover, but she took a couple of ibuprofen as insurance.
Her sadness also returned. As she curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around a pillow, she allowed herself to cry one last time. I need to get him out of my system. He’s like a damn drug I can’t wean myself off of.
She knew Monday would be hard, but she also knew after what she’d faced with James that she should be able to deal with it.