Logan sighed. “She probably let her cell run down again. She’s forever forgetting to recharge it.”
“I went by your apartment after I couldn’t reach her,” Paige continued, her voice tight. He could almost swear she sounded angry. “Your doorman said she hasn’t been home in two days and that she left the same night you and Rhys flew out to San Francisco and Atlanta. The night of your anniversary, by the way.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! His hand tightened around the cell phone, and he closed his eyes as panic, sharp and unrelenting, flooded him.
Their anniversary. Their dinner date. He’d forgotten. And it wasn’t the first time. His chest tightened as he imagined Catherine sitting in the restaurant by herself, waiting for him and Rhys to show up. And how she must have felt when she realized they weren’t.
And then. God. He’d cancelled their trip.
How could he have forgotten? It wasn’t as though it had completely slipped his mind. Her present sat in his desk drawer at work, wrapped and ready to go. But as soon as the deal had started to go south, everything else fled his mind. His only priority had been salvaging the biggest contract of his career.
“Are you still there?”
Paige’s voice seeped into his consciousness. And then he realized what else she’d said. Alarm slammed into his chest.
“You said she’s gone,” he croaked. “That she hadn’t been home in two days. What else did the doorman say? Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Paige replied without an ounce of sympathy in her voice. “But I can’t say I blame her.”
His lips tightened. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Catherine’s a sweet girl, Logan, but she’s not going to be so forgiving forever. You and Rhys take advantage of her. Horribly. One of these days you’re going to look up, and she’s going to be gone. Maybe she already is. Hopefully she’ll end up with a man who’ll show her a little more appreciation.”
He couldn’t breathe. Paige’s words hit him like razor-sharp darts.
The phone went dead in his ear, but all he could process was the fact that Paige had said Catherine was gone.
He punched in the number to the apartment with shaky fingers. He waited as it rang. After the fourth time, the answering machine picked up, and he cursed.
“Catherine, baby, it’s me, Logan. Pick up, baby. I know you’re angry, but please, pick up the phone.”
He hung up and called right back, frustrated when he got the same result. He was redialing again when the plane pulled away from the terminal to begin its taxi.
Frustrated, he slapped the phone shut and flung it across the seat.
Where was she? Had something happened to her? Had she left the apartment upset and been in an accident? Fear gripped him. Or had she simply walked out?
No, Paige was wrong. Catherine understood. She always understood.
Understood what? That her husband is an asshole who can’t even remember their anniversary? He’d cancelled a trip he promised to take her on, hadn’t been around in more months than he could count, and he hadn’t made love to her in so long he ached.
He closed his eyes and banged his head against the back of the seat. Had she given up on him?
***
Rhys stepped off the plane and made his way up the exit corridor to the gate. He was tired as hell, but anticipation lightened his step as he imagined crawling into bed with Cat. God, he’d missed her. Right now a Jamaican beach and her in a thong sounded next to heaven.
A frown strained his lips as he tried to remember the last time he’d made love to Cat. The last months were all a blur of phone calls, business trips, endless meetings and negotiations. Uncertainty wedged its way into his chest. She had sounded so disappointed the night he and Logan had left. And now that he had a moment to breathe, he realized just how often he and Logan had been making excuses and apologies.
Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get home. He was going to talk to Logan about rescheduling that vacation they’d promised Cat. Soon.
He checked his watch then fished for his cell phone to turn it back on. Logan landed a half hour before him, and they were supposed to hook up and ride together back to the apartment.
As soon as the phone powered up, it beeped to tell him he had a voicemail. Or ten. Damn, that was a lot of missed calls. He frowned as he scrolled through and saw they were all from Logan.
He put the phone to his ear and picked up his pace to baggage claim.
“Rhys, meet me at the apartment. We’ve got a problem.”
He pulled the phone away with a frown. That was it? Goddamn Logan and his penchant for being short and providing no details. He punched in Logan’s cell number and waited impatiently for him to answer. When it went straight to voicemail, Rhys swore and shoved the phone back into his pocket.