Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

“So…” Waller drags it out. “Was it a surprise when you found out she worked for you? Or…”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t buy that company to get close to Hannah. I had no idea she even worked there.”

Though, had I known, I might’ve.

Waller whistles. “Bet that was a slap to the nuts.”

I grimace. “Basically.”

“And…”

“And what?”

“And what?” He mocks me. “You just said you had no idea she worked for the company you bought. You really think I’m not gonna want to know more?”

“That was the hope,” I say dryly.

“Well, hope in one hand, shit in the other.” He uses our old coach’s favorite phrase.

“As you can imagine, it didn’t go great.” Then I think about it and almost laugh. “She pretended not to know me.”

“Chick ghosts you, turns up a decade and a half later, ghosts you again— to your face— and you think it’s funny?”

I shake my head. “Talking to you is worse than talking to my mother.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll add her to this phone call. Don’t test me.”

“God, you’re a pushy bitch.” I stand back up and start pacing again. “I didn’t know she was there until she came in for one of those new company interviews we did.”

“Fuck.” I can picture the wince in Waller’s voice. “That must’ve been a moment.”

“Yeah, well…” I feel like a dick admitting this part, but I know Waller will understand. “The interviews were boring as hell, and I had some emails from my lawyers about some contracts that I needed to go through. So I was doing emails on my phone the first, like, half of her interview.” I blow out a breath, wondering how I hadn’t recognized her voice. “I didn’t even look up until someone said her last name, and by then, she had plenty of time to get over any of her own shock.”

“So when you finally paid attention, she was already locked down.”

“Basically.”

“But you go into the office, right? So you’ve seen her?”

“Yeah.”

“And have you confronted her about her little disappearing act?”

“Kinda. No. Fuck, I don’t know.” I turn and walk back across the gym. “She’s giving me all sorts of mixed signals. Giving me the evil eye one second, crying over a ham and cheese the next. But then last night after… I said something, and she snapped at me about not calling her. But that doesn’t make sense because we never exchanged numbers.”

I tried.

The heavy weight of doubt latches itself on to my shoulders.

“I think I’m missing something,” I admit.

It’s quiet on the line for a long moment.

“You still there?” I ask into the phone.

“I’m here. Just busy wondering how you’ve already managed to sleep with this woman without, it seems, actually talking to her.”

I stare forward at the wall. “I hate you.”