Chapter 152: Very Persistent Client
Chapter 152: Very Persistent Client
The phone barely had time to ring a second time before the call connected. I instinctively stepped farther down the hallway, putting another wall between myself and the living room where Ruby was almost certainly taste-testing soup while Elliot narrated his own decline like the lead character in a medical documentary. I lowered my voice automatically. "Hello?" A brief pause. Then his familiar voice came through the speaker, warm and surprisingly relaxed. "Good morning, Liela." I smiled before I could stop myself. Again. This was becoming a problem. "Good morning." There was a comfortable silence for a second, the kind that somehow didn't feel awkward. Then my professional instincts immediately took over. "If you're calling about the revisions for Ashen King..." I began apologetically, rubbing the back of my neck. "...I haven't started working on them yet." I winced even though he couldn't see me. "Yesterday was..." I searched for the least embarrassing description possible. "...unexpected." There. Very professional. Very reasonable. Definitely not code for I attended your birthday, questioned my entire emotional stability, cried internally, and then escaped in a taxi.
A quiet laugh came from the other end of the line.
Not mocking.
Just amused.
"Liela."
"...Yes?"
"I wasn't calling about the revisions."
I blinked.
"...You weren't?"
"No."
"Oh."
I frowned slightly.
"Then..."
I looked down at my phone as though the answer might somehow appear on the screen.
"...What are you calling about?"
"You immediately assumed I wanted to discuss work."
"You're my client."
"And?"
"And clients generally call editors because something is on fire."
Another soft chuckle.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence."
"I was being realistic."
"You were being suspicious."
"I'm an editor."
"Fair."
I leaned lightly against the hallway wall, relaxing just a little.
"If not the manuscript..."
I asked curiously.
"...then why did you ask me to call?"
There was another brief pause.
Not awkward.
Almost... hesitant.
Finally, he answered.
"I wanted to see you."
My brain stopped functioning.
Completely.
Not partially.
Not temporarily.
Entirely.
Every coherent thought packed its belongings, submitted a resignation letter, and quietly left the building. I stared at the opposite wall for several long seconds, convinced I had either misheard him or accidentally wandered into an alternate universe. "...What?" I managed intelligently. "I said..." His voice remained calm, almost as though he hadn't just detonated my entire nervous system. "...I'd like to see you." My heartbeat accelerated with alarming enthusiasm. "Now?" I squeaked. Wonderful. I had become a mouse. "Yes." I blinked repeatedly. "Today?" Brilliant follow-up. "Today," he confirmed patiently. "This morning?" "That's generally how mornings work." Despite myself, I let out the tiniest laugh. "You're impossible." "I've been told."
I pushed myself away from the wall and began pacing the hallway in slow circles, lowering my voice even further as though Ruby possessed supernatural hearing. She probably did. "Grayson..." I said carefully. "...where exactly are you?" There was a pause just long enough to make me suspicious. "Look outside." I frowned. "...Outside?" "Yes." "Outside where?" "Your apartment building." I stopped walking. "My apartment building?" "Yes." "...Which apartment building?" "Yours." My brain short-circuited for the second time in less than two minutes. "You're joking." "No." "Grayson." "Liela." "Please tell me you're not standing outside my building." "I can't." "...Why not?" "Because I am." Silence. Complete, absolute silence. Somewhere in the living room, I faintly heard Elliot sneeze with the dramatic force of a man trying to remove his own soul. I didn't even react. My entire attention had become occupied by one deeply concerning fact. Grayson Hale was apparently outside my apartment building.
"...You've lost your mind."
"I've been accused of that before."
"You have a birthday hangover."
"I don't drink."
"You have a birthday... judgment impairment."
"Possible."
"You should go home."
"I already did."
"Then stay there."
"I tried."
"And?"
"I kept thinking about yesterday."
My heart betrayed me again.
He continued quietly.
"So I drove here."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"You drove all the way to my apartment..."
"Yes."
"...without telling me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise."
"It is."
"Good surprise?"
"I haven't decided yet."
Another laugh.
"You've been standing outside this entire time?"
"For about fifteen minutes."
"Fifteen minutes?"
"I arrived before you called."
My eyes widened.
"You were just... waiting?"
"I figured you'd come down eventually."
"...What if I hadn't?"
"I would have texted again."
"And if I still didn't answer?"
"I would've waited a little longer."
I stared at the floor in complete disbeliefand then finally managed the only question my malfunctioning brain could produce.
“...Are you expecting me to come downstairs?”
“Ideally, yes,” Grayson replied with suspicious calm, like a man who had not just announced he was waiting outside my apartment building as though this were a perfectly ordinary Wednesday activity. “Are you coming?”
I looked toward the living room. Through the doorway I could see Elliot dramatically wrapped in a blanket while Ruby held a thermometer like a weapon. The moment I stepped outside, those two would absolutely interrogate me, follow me, and possibly take photographs for future blackmail.
“I can’t,” I said quickly.
A pause. “Can’t?”
“I’m not home.”
Another pause, slightly longer this time.
“...Liela.”
“I’m at Elliot’s place,” I admitted in a rush. “Ruby’s here too. Elliot is convinced he’s dying from a cold, Ruby is threatening to force-feed him soup, and if I leave suddenly they’ll ask questions I’m emotionally unequipped to answer.”
Silence.
Then, very calmly:
“Give me the address.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because that sentence sounded dangerous.”
“I just want to see you.”
My traitorous heartbeat immediately attempted a gymnastics routine.
“Grayson...” I said weakly.
“Liela.”
“This is already weird.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’re waiting outside my building.”
“Correct.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
“Noted.”
I pressed a hand against my forehead. Why did he sound so reasonable while doing objectively unreasonable things?
“I really can’t come right now,” I said more softly. “Elliot’s sick, Ruby’s here, and I wasn’t planning to leave this morning.”
“Then I’ll come there.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“You’ll WHAT?”
“I said I’ll come there.”
“No. No, you will not.”
“Why not?”
“Because Elliot will ask why you come.”
“I’m your client.”
“That explanation stopped being convincing approximately ten minutes ago.”
He laughed quietly, and somehow that made everything worse.
“Liela,” he said, voice gentler now, “I meant what I said. I want to meet you.”
My pacing resumed immediately. “You can’t just appear outside people’s homes because you had feelings after your birthday.”
“I didn’t say I had feelings.”
“Then why are you here?”
A beat of silence.
“Because I want to talk you.”
My soul left my body, waved politely, and ascended.
I stopped pacing so abruptly I nearly walked into the wall.
“That was an illegal sentence,” I informed him.
“I’ll risk it.”
“Grayson—”
“If you’re not coming down,” he interrupted calmly, “then I’ll give you thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes for what?”
“To decide.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll come to Elliot’s place.”
My eyes widened in horror.
“You don’t even know where Elliot lives.”
“I can find out.”
“That was somehow more alarming than reassuring.”
“Thirty minutes, Liela.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m inviting you.”
“Badly.”
“Possibly.”
I leaned against the wall again, staring at absolutely nothing while my heart performed increasingly concerning activities.
“You’re serious,” I said quietly.
“Very.”
“And if I’m not downstairs in half an hour...” I swallowed.
“I’ll come see you anyway.”
The line went quiet, and for the first time in my life I genuinely considered whether it was socially acceptable to fake my own disappearance.