Out of Focus (Love in LA #3)

Hi. So sorry, but something’s just come up.

I’m not sure how long it’ll take.

Can we meet in a few hours?

It’s vague, I know, but once Robert is gone, I can explain everything to him, and hopefully—finally—get him naked in one of our beds.

rafael

I’m super early, but I don’t care. I can’t fucking wait anymore. I need to see her and hear her say the damn words to my face.

As I enter the building, Carla greets me with a smile at the front desk. My hands tremble as I step into the elevator, and I shake my arms out to calm myself. The jitters intensify as the elevator rises to Charlie’s floor. When I stand in front of her door, my nerves feel like sharp claws tearing at my insides. I knock three times, and heavy footsteps sound from the other side of the door.

Weird.

The door swings open too quickly, and a pair of blue eyes I don’t recognize greet me.

“May I help you?” The guy’s hair is slicked back, and his khakis are definitely too tight, even for a dude this slim. When I don’t answer, he widens his arm, which is a stupid move, because if I wanted to break in, he just made it easier. But that’s not why I’m here. “Hello? Are you a delivery man or something? Perhaps you’re at the wrong flat? We didn’t hear the intercom.”

His British accent registers. His use of the word we. I know who this fucker is.

Fucking Robert.

Fuck this guy.

“I’m looking for Charlie, actually.” I step a little closer, trying to look over him. We’re about the same height, but I’m still nearly double his size.

“Charlotte’s occupied. She’s just getting ready for our date. You know how women are.” His tone is so condescending as he rolls his eyes; it makes me want to punch his stupid face and make sure his eyeballs get stuck back there so he can never lay eyes on my girl again.

“I see. Well, you can tell her that Rafael came by, and I’m ready for that talk whenever she is.” I pat him on the shoulder and wink at the man as he scoffs at me. “Thanks, mate.” Turning on my heels, I whistle all the way to the elevator, keeping my gait nice and relaxed while my heart fucking breaks inside my chest.

As I get to the front door of the building, I see a text message come through from Charlie, and then another, and another. When I read the third message, all the air is sucked out of my lungs.

Something came up all right.

Fucking. Robert.

charlie

Rafael doesn’t respond right away, and I leave my phone in my bedroom, not wanting to be distracted by it while I tell Robert to hop back on a plane.

Without me.

He’s sitting on the sofa when I come into the open living space, and it pisses me off. He doesn’t need to sit for this conversation. It won’t last long enough to warrant a sit-down.

“Did I hear someone at the door?” Walking around the sofa to stand in front of him, I plant my feet firmly on the floor.

“Yeah. Wrong flat,” he says dismissively.

“I’m not going back to London, Robert.” I remain standing and watch him, arms spread wide on the sofa, looking far too comfortable and carefree.

“How much longer do you need here? I’d like to be married in the next month, so if you’re okay with my assistant planning it all, you can have another four, five weeks tops.” His arrogant tone has my skin prickling with rage.

“You can get married whenever you want. But it won’t be to me.” I know he’s about to ask me why, like the absolute moron that he is.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

Called it.