Into You Series: The Complete Collection

25. Cameron

CHAPTER 25

CAMERON

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Day Off

Cameron,

I won’t be in today. I’m taking Hank to the vet. I’ll keep you updated should anything change.

Thank you,

Grace Holmes

I look over the email twenty times.

Minimum.

My immediate internal debate is whether Hank has an appointment or if she’s instead using that as an excuse to avoid me.

And if she is, can I blame her?

But no, she wouldn’t lie about her dog going to the vet. What heartless person would do that? Plus, Grace is straightforward. If last night was an issue, she would be the first person to tell me, “Hey asshole, that was almost uncalled for.”

Almost. Because ultimately nothing happened.

I start typing out a reply, but then I notice a tiny thing right below her name and just above her job title in the email signature: A phone number. I don’t remember a phone number ever being in her signature, as most of us just get our email through our phones anyway. I look up a previous email she sent regarding design approvals. Just her name and job title. No number.

Does she want me to text her? Or am I just overthinking it?

I copy the number from her signature and paste it into my contacts. I type out a message asking if Hank is okay, then shove my phone back in my pocket. There. Simple. Done.

“Let’s talk about Grace.”

I look up and Mr. Feldman is on my couch, peering over his laptop with one eyebrow raised. How long has he been talking?

“Okay,” I say, picking up a pencil and scribbling on a paper, putting nothing of value there.

“I think she should be a team lead.”

“A what?” I say, the pencil falling from my fingers.

“She’s the only one on your team with enough gumption to do anything,” he says. He’s not trying to be rude, but is he trying to be rude?

My leg begins twitching in anxiety.

“She’s just a junior designer,” I say but immediately want to take it back.

Here I am, unable to stop thinking about the redheaded wonder, and I’m still trying to sabotage her future.

She’s capable. Brilliant, even. She’s led this project from start to finish. And she deserves every promotion that comes her way.

She’s motivated.

Talented.

And I want that in my own life, bad.

“I’ll look into it,” I say.

“I would hope you do.” Mr. Feldman smiles, and I return the gesture.

He goes back to his laptop, and I go back to doing absolutely nothing on my own. I just click through tab after tab while my head swims.

My ridiculous grudge shouldn’t be the thing to hold her back. She’s got the talent and the personality to eventually take my role. She could do my job even better than I am.

Buzz.

I shove my hands into my pants pocket, trying not to appear too eager, but of course failing miserably as I lean the phone against my thigh in an attempt to conceal it.

Grace: Hank is fine. I just got worried. He seemed depressed.

I get that. Nothing worse than a sad pup.

Cam: What vet are you at? Let me know if you need me to drop off anything.

That’s not weird, right? We’ve already crossed some line, so I’m sure having your creepy boss ask what vet you’re at isn’t too far-fetched is it?

Buzz.

Grace: Thanks, I should be fine though. But I do need a reward for my patience. This waiting room is garbage.

Cam: Most vet waiting rooms are. Is there some grumpy old woman with her cat yowling in a crate?

Grace: For the past twenty minutes.

Cam: And at least one weird animal?

Grace: A duck, a duck, and a goose, believe it or not.

Cam: And some big dog about to pull their owner’s arm off trying to smell every other dog’s butt?

Grace: I feel like you’re speaking from experience here.

Cam: Buddy likes butts, and he cannot lie.

Grace: I see bowls of free treats everywhere and yet there are no vending machines for the owners. Not even coffee!

Cam: You could probably just snag a dog treat.

Grace: No, those are only for good dogs.

I hesitate for a moment and take the plunge.

Cam: Haven’t you been a good girl?

There’s a lull, and I see three repeating dots flashing across her side of the conversation as she types, erases, and then reenters the text. The phone buzzes in my hand.

Grace: No, I haven’t.

I exhale and let my fingers hover over the phone, looking up to see if Mr. Feldman has noticed anything, but he seems none the wiser.

I’m sending vaguely sexual texts to my direct employee, and he’s probably solving the next big architecture project—just as I should be. Eventually, I lock my phone back and set it on my lap. I don’t need to keep annoying her. I need to focus.

My eyes glaze over and then the phone buzzes again.

Grace: Actually, I’m sure Hank would love the company if you get the time. At this rate, we’ll be here all day.

The next text that follows is a street address.