“Hey, babe,” Sean’s cheerful, masculine voice crackled over the line. I groaned.
“No. Laurel, please, do not do this,” I begged. I would have gotten down on my knees if she’d even glanced in my direction, but she didn’t. She never did.
“Hi, Sean.” She didn’t look at his picture in the caller ID box, the one he’d sent her of him, standing against the backdrop of the coffee-shop where they’d met. “I’m really sorry for the late notice. Damn bureaucracy. Tim’s called me in to help out with this year-end inventory.”
“What?”
“I literally just got off the phone with him. I can’t make it tonight. I am so, so sorry.”
“Yeah. Okay, then. Well, I’ll talk to you later then.” The phone went dead in her hand. Call ended.