I told myself I’d give Sarah time to clear her head and think things through without emotions dictating her reaction. But for fuck’s sake, it’s been three days now. I really thought she’d come over the next morning after she’d had a chance to cool off. But she hasn’t so much as even sent me a text.
I’ve tried to throw myself into work, but no matter how many hours I spend approving timecards, nothing seems to take my mind off Sarah. I have no fucking idea how to make this right. In a few days, she’ll come around.
She has to.
The intercom on my desk buzzes, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"What’s up?" I call through the speaker.
"Yo. Leo, you got a visitor," Johnson responds from downstairs.
Thankfully, he’s been here a lot the last few days, because I’ve been worthless since Sarah left. Due to her parting words about his sexuality, things were awkward at first. But not another word has been spoken about it, and things have basically gone back to normal between us.
"Shit," I cuss. Flipping through my calendar, I try to figure out what appointment I’ve forgotten about only to find today blank. "I’m not expecting anyone. Who is it?"
"Brett Sharp," he announces.
What the fucking hell is Brett Sharp doing here?
I quickly run through a few scenarios until my pulse suddenly begins to race. Oh God. What if something happened to Sarah? Could she have possibly tried to kill herself again? He’s a cop. Did he draw the short straw and is here to notify me that something happened?
"Let him up!" I call out and rush to open the front door.
As I wait for the elevator to arrive on my floor, I try to calm myself by taking a rational step back. There is no way Brett would have been the one chosen to inform me. Emma or Caleb would have called. Shit. Do they even have my number? I should really call Emma and have her check up on Sarah. When Brett walks off the elevator, I’m still lost in my worries.
"Is she okay?" I bite out, praying that he doesn’t have an answer.
"Who? Sarah?" he asks, notably confused and my shoulders fall in relief.
"Hey, can you give me Caleb’s number real fast. I need to ask him something."
He narrows his eyes but rattles off a few numbers.
"You got Emma’s too?" I ask while adding the contact to my cell phone.
"What’s going on? Something happen?" he asks curiously before sliding a Magnolia Photography card from his wallet with Emma’s number on it.
"Just give me a minute," I say, typing out a text to Caleb.
Me: Hey, it’s Leo. Has Emma seen Sarah the last few days?
I begin to type out a message to Emma when my phone pings back.
Caleb: She’s okay. Emma spent the night at her place last night. You want to grab a beer tonight and talk about this shit?
Me: Probably not, but I’ll let you know. Thanks.
I rush out a relieved breath. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is this the first time I bothered to think about how Sarah is doing? I’ve been so lost in all the ways I could think of to try to fix this and get her back that didn’t even think about how this was affecting her. Maybe she’s better off without me. I’m such a fucking mess. I can’t even— "Everything okay?" Brett asks, reminding me that he’s in the room.
"Yeah. Fine. Thanks for the numbers."
"No problem," he responds, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets.
"So what can I do for you?"
"Look, I’m sorry about just stopping by tonight. I’ve spent over a week talking myself out of coming over here, but I truly feel like this is something I have to do."
"Oh yeah? What’s that?" I question with a little more attitude than I originally intended.
"Sarah. She’s not…right," he says, which causes me to bark out a laugh.
"Really?" I ask in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
"You don’t know who she is, and I don’t know what she’s told you, but I feel like I need to maybe fill in the gaps."
"Get out," I growl while walking past him toward the door.
"Just hear me out. There’s some shit you need to know."
"I don’t need to know any of your shit. Because that is exactly what it would be—shit."
"How long have you two been seeing each other?" he asks, turning to face me but not budging even after I open the door.
"I’m not even remotely interested in listening to anything you have to say about Sarah. Especially when you start a conversation about the woman I love with bullshit about her not being ‘right.’"
"Fuck," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean it like that."
"She’s your ex-wife. There’s a reason for that," I remind him just to be a dick.
"No, she’s not. I was never married to the woman you’re in love with."
"Even better. Then this conversation really is moot. I have work to do, so I’m going to need you to leave now."