I pick up the empty beer bottle and shake it. Sebastien ignores me.
“Seriously, I’d kill for a chance like that. Do you know how rare it is to feel connected to anyone? Some people wait a very long time and don’t find it. They’d do just about anything to have it. Yet here you are, trying to throw it away because of something that happened a good while ago. You need to get off your duff and take another chance on yourself. Quit punishing yourself. Get on with it. What else can I say?”
“You could get me another beer.”
Sebastien takes his phone out of his back pocket and literally pitches it at me. My fast reflexes are the only thing that saves me from catching it right between the eyes. “Not until you call her. Tell her that you need an interior designer.”
“That won’t work,” I grumble. “She’d never come over now.”
“Tell her that you need a designer, and you’re madly sorry about being a dumbass. Tell her that you want to make it up to her. Tell her you’re into her too. Tell her you’re a big, scared hellhole, but you’re not going to let that stop you from telling her what’s in that seldom-used heart of yours.”
“I don’t have her number. It’s in my phone.”
“Great. Call her from yours then.”
Sebastien takes a few steps back, and I reluctantly take out my phone and stare at it. “She’s not going to forgive me. She’s not going to even answer.”
“Then blow her phone up with I’m incredibly sorry, how can I make it up to you kind of texts.”
“She still probably won’t answer.”
“I think you’re not giving her enough credit. She said she felt something for you. She opened herself up and bared her heart to you. You really hurt her, but it doesn’t mean those feelings just switch off.”
“I don’t know. It’s been a few weeks.”
“Well, you can always check, and then you’ll know. Do it. Please. Before I have to resort to desperate measures.”
“Which are?”
“Turning on the techno music that I like and you hate so much.”
I scowl fiercely at my brother. “Fine, you win. I’ll call. She probably won’t answer or text me back, but then at least we can drop this, and I can go back to moping around for a few more weeks until I get over making such a big mistake.”
“Now you’re talking.” Sebastien shoots me a thumbs-up and walks over to the kitchen area. His condo is so wide open that it freaks me out a little. I watch him warily. He opens up the fridge, takes out a beer, and does a little dance with it. “Come on. This is your reward. It’s nice and icy cold.”
“Okay, okay.” I hit Pearl’s contact, the one I’ve so carefully avoided thinking of or even looking at, though I’m tempted to every single time I check my phone.
I’ve thought about calling her a thousand times this week. Or maybe it’s a million. I don’t know. It’s hard to keep track when every single thought I have is about her. I’ve been doing more than moping, as Sebastien terms it. I’ve spent the past few weeks entrenched in the deepest regret I’ve ever felt. I didn’t realize that just knowing someone for a few days could change my life like this. Or that it could wound me to the point where I’ve been absolutely useless with no end in sight.
“Techno music in three, two—”
“Okay!” I punch in the number and lift my phone to my ear. It rings once. Twice. Again. And again. And again. Then, it goes to voicemail, but I don’t know what to say, so I hang up. “See? She didn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t.”
“Try again.” Sebastien looks as disappointed as I feel.
“No way.”
I’m about to set my phone back down when all of a sudden, it starts buzzing in my hand. When I check the number, I really don’t expect to see Pearl’s name flash across the screen. I glance up at Sebastien in pure bewilderment, because no, she can’t really be calling me back, can she?
“I told you!”
Sebastien picks the remote off his kitchen island and hits the techno. He turns it down low— low enough that I can still answer the phone and hear Pearl on the other end—and does a ridiculous happy dance as I slide my finger across the screen to answer.
CHAPTER 23
Gabriel
“You’re right. Your place needs help.” Pearl meets me back in the living room. I don’t even know if I should technically call it that because it’s so bare and empty, and I do absolutely no living at all in it. I actually don’t think I’ve spent more than a few hours total in the room since I bought the house. “I can see why you called me.”