No More Waiting, She Chooses Love novel Chapter 11

"Felicia, Mr. Wagner's on the line for you." Deborah Walker, who had tagged along with me, extended the phone toward me.

I had underestimated Conrad's persistence. In such a situation, I could only take the phone and respond formally, "Mr. Wagner, what can I do for you?"

"Felicia," Conrad's voice was deep, laced with evident remorse, "Why did you leave so early today? I got home, and you weren't there."

Realizing he wasn't talking shop, I stepped away. "Went out for breakfast."

Conrad apologized to me. "Sorry, I... got held up last night. Couldn't make it back."

A chill ran through me, my lips curling into a mocking smile. "And why was that?"

Conrad was silent.

I held my breath, giving him a way out. "Couldn't find a caregiver?"

Conrad replied calmly, "Yes."

I said nothing more before Conrad spoke again, "Felicia, when are you free? I'll pick you up. Let's have lunch together, okay?"

It had been ages since we last had a meal together. According to what Jimmy had said the night before, Conrad had been staying with Haley.

Was his sudden invitation for lunch a guilt trip for bailing on me the previous night or a sudden strike of conscience? I didn't know or bother to waste my time guessing.

I replied casually, "Not sure when I'll be free. Maybe I won't finish up by lunchtime. Besides, aren't you always busy with something or other around noon?"

"Felicia," Conrad's tone grew heavy, perhaps catching the sarcasm in my voice, then fell silent for a beat. "Don't overthink it."

What else was there to think about if he could walk out on me the night before?

I was at work and didn't want to drag personal matters into it. "I'm busy right now. If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up."

"Must be PMS," I found an excuse, then pretended to be busy on my phone.

Deborah was a chatterbox, and I feared her probing would leave me struggling for lies.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over me. Assuming it was Deborah, I paid it no mind until warmth enveloped my ankle. Looking down, I found Conrad's familiar hands removing my shoe and placing my foot on his knee to massage it. "Is the shoe too tight?"

I didn't respond, my throat tight with emotion. Conrad looked up, his voice soft, "Still mad?"

"No," I tried to pull my foot back.

But Conrad didn't let go, continuing his message, "It won't happen again."

Conrad was in a sapphire-blue suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, its custom cufflinks catching the sun's rays, much like the man himself.