Page 62 of One Night in Alaska

I told him what I knew—about how we’d had to leave Maui early, how we’d had fun at first in Switzerland, but then something had changed. I told him about Georgia seeing Kaylee’s picture and how things had gone downhill from there. Finally, I told him how I’d stupidly drunk too much and puked all over the place.

“That had to have been the last straw for her,” I told him before ordering a second beer. “The next morning, she faked an emergency and left.”

Shaking his head, Ryan said, “Man, that’s rough. I’m sorry. Did you call her out on faking the emergency?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I didn’t see the point. If she didn’t want to stay there, why would I try to force her?”

“True. Still, wouldn’t it be nice to know exactly what happened? I mean, unless you puked all over her, I can’t imagine it was just that you got drunk.” Ryan finished his beer and asked for another as well. The bartender began to prepare it as I pondered what Ryan had said.

I did want to know what the problem had been. Had I said something to her while I was drunk that hurt her feelings? I couldn’t imagine I’d done anything inappropriate, but I wanted to find out what had happened so I could apologize if I needed to.

“Well, if it were me,” Ryan continued, “I would call her. You need to know, man. What’s the worst that can happen? She can tell you she never wants to see you again? If you don’t call her, that’s going to happen anyway, right?”

“I guess,” I mumbled, pondering his words. Since when was Ryan so wise?

“You know what Kaylee would say,” he continued. That had my attention. I stared at him and arched an eyebrow. “Get your head out of your ass and call her, Beau.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s what she would say. Not exactly anyway. But you’re right. She probably would tell me to do something. I’ll think about it,” I told my best friend.

“Good. You should.” Ryan flashed me a smile and took another drink.

I was about to pick up my beer again when my phone rang.

36

GEORGIA

“Well, that’s too fucking bad, Mrs. Clarkson,” I shouted. “I go out of my way to do exactly what you want me to do, never failing to complete tasks on time and charging you half of what I do other customers, and you’re nothing but an ungrateful bitch! If you don’t like it, you can shove it up your ass!”

I slammed my laptop closed, still fuming about the last email Mrs. Clarkson had sent asking me to redo an entire document because her directions had not been clear. She wasn’t even offering to pay me more.

Fuck her!

I hadn’t actually said any of those things to her. I never did. Whenever a client upset me, I tended to let it fester until I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then, rather than giving them some feedback they might be able to grow from so that they didn’t end up being an asshole to everyone else they worked with, I simply tried to get out of working with them again. Most of the time, they’d be shocked I didn’t absolutely love working for them, and they’d try to figure out what they could do to make it up to me. I’d feel sorry for them, and then I’d end up doing what they asked.

When it came to standing up for myself, I was pathetic. I needed to figure out a way to be more assertive, but it was so damn difficult for me.

After a few minutes of taking calming deep breaths—channeling my inner Lucy, who would’ve probably gotten some natural elements or stones out to help herself calm down—I felt like I could respond. I let Mrs. Clarkson know that I’d be happy to redo the document based on the new information she was willing to provide but also let her know that I would have to be paid according to the amount of time I was going to be working on the project.

Rather than sitting there staring at my laptop, waiting for her to reply, I closed it and set it aside. It was time for me to quit for the day anyway. I’d worked a full eight hours, but knowing me, I’d be back at it later. Recently, it seemed like I worked at least twelve hours a day. Since I’d gotten back from Europe a few days ago, it was easier for me to keep my mind busy so I didn’t think about Beau.

Even his name entering my mind made me sigh. Instinctively, I reached for my laptop. More than once, I’d found myself opening his social media accounts just to see what he was up to. Not that he posted that often. He hadn’t put anything up since I’d left him on the trip, but it somehow made me feel more connected to him than just looking at the pictures I’d taken on my phone. Those pictures got plenty of viewing time as well.

I was about to type his name into the search engine since I was too chicken to actually follow him anywhere when my phone rang. My heart froze in my chest like it always did when my phone went off since I’d walked away from Beau. It was my fault for going without giving him an acceptable reason, but I was hopeful that he was missing me as much as I was missing him and would want to speak to me. I remembered how thrilled I’d been when he’d called me the last time I’d been praying to hear from him.

This time, it wasn’t him.

With a sigh, I tried to put some cheer into my voice as I answered. “Hey, Luce,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” Her voice sounded strange to me, like maybe she wasn’t really okay. “There’s just something going on, and I need your help.”

“What’s going on?” Concern filled my own voice as I spoke to her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I don’t want to explain this to you over the phone, though. Would it be possible for you to meet me at La Rosa’s in about an hour?”

I looked at the clock across the room and figured out how long it would take me to get ready and get there. La Rosa’s was a fancy Italian restaurant closer to where Lucy lived than my apartment. “Yeah, sure,” I told her. “I can do that.” It was a fancy place, so I’d need to wear a dress. “But why La Rosa’s?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just feeling like it would be nice to go to an upscale restaurant. With your help, I think I can clear up this problem, but I think it needs to be done in a fitting setting.”