Marry Me by G. Hauser (good books to read for women TXT) 📕

and was about

to call him when he stopped himself. Would it seem too eager?

Too needy? Of course Fabian was okay. Maybe he just was busy

doing something else.

Braxton put the phone down and began answering emails

from his clients. He wasn’t upset that the work wasn’t done.

Fabian was certainly not obligated to work late nights.

A wash of worry kept hitting Braxton. He tried to let it go but

it was becoming a gnawing sensation. One he had all the time. A

sensation that things were not right, and those uncomfortable

waves usually kept him up at night.

He put the laptop aside and paced, entering his kitchen and

back to the living room. Returning to the kitchen he opened a

cabinet looking at the vodka bottle.

He closed the cabinet and leaned both hands on the counter,

calming down. “He’s fine. He didn’t crash.”

“Fuck!” Braxton headed to where he left his phone and

picked it up, texting Fabian. ‘ u get home ok? ’

He waited for a reply. None came.

Dreading his phone wasn’t working, he checked it curiously.

It appeared fine and looked as if messages would go out and

come in. He sat with the computer and sent Fabian an instant

message. ‘ hey, did you get home? ’

Nothing came back.

Braxton tried not to freak out, then another thought occurred

to him. Maybe he was being ignored. Maybe Fabian was home,

fine, and not acknowledging his messages on purpose.

He sent Brianna an instant message. ‘ did this go through to

you? ’

She replied, ‘ yup. how was drinks? ’

‘ Dunno. he’s ignoring me now. I want to make sure he got

home ok. Can you text him?’

‘ What did ya do, ya dildo? ’

‘ just text him! ’

Braxton waited and felt even tenser. Carrying his phone, he

walked back to the kitchen and took the vodka bottle out of the

cabinet but didn’t do anything with it.

Brianna sent him a message. ‘ got nothing. I’m gonna call.’

“Fuck!” Braxton looked up Fabian’s home address in his

phone and wondered if he should call the hospitals or police.

A second later Brianna sent Braxton another text. ‘ voicemail. ’

He called Brianna, an anxious mess.

“Braxton?”

“He said he wasn’t drunk!”

“Oh no. How much did you guys have?”

“We had a few but it was nearly four hours with food. He

said he was okay to drive!”

“Hang on. I have another number for him. I think he has a

home landline. Will you hang on before you go ballistic?”

“Call me right back.” He hung up and stared at the bottle. If

anything happened to Fabian he’d blame himself.

He couldn’t drink the fucking vodka because if he had to go

search for Fabian he had to drive.

As the time ticked by Braxton thought he would lose his

mind. His ringtone sounded and he put his phone right to his ear.

“What?”

“He’s fine. He just said he was tired and thanked you for

asking about him.”

Braxton sank against the kitchen counter he was so relieved.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“What happened between you two? He sounded like shit.”

“Nothing. See you in the morning.” He disconnected the line

and put his phone down, staring at the vodka. He replaced it into

the cabinet. Once again he sat with his laptop, immersing himself

in work, forgetting life outside it, and knowing he could not win.

Chapter 12

Fabian arrived at the office and immediately noticed Brianna’s

apprehensive smile.

“TGIF,” she said, handing him his latte.

“Yeah. Thank fuck.” He headed to his office and set the

coffee down. As he did he could hear Brianna walking in behind

him.

“Fabian, don’t be so hard on him. He was near hysteria last

night when he thought you didn’t get home.”

Fabian opened his suit jacket button, straightened his tie, and

looked at her. “That’s nice of him.” He sat at his desk and sipped

the coffee, booting up the computer.

“Did you guys fight?”

“No. Worse.”

“Oh?”

“We fucked.”

“And?”

“Never mind. He got what he wanted.” Fabian picked up the

phone and began working on the list of calls he left for himself

the night before.

“Man, you guys are making this so hard when it doesn’t have

to be.” Brianna left and Fabian had no idea how he was going to

look Braxton in the eye today.

~

Braxton worked out so hard at the gym, he was in agony.

Tyson killed him with a new cross training workout and Braxton

overdid it painfully. Beating himself up. It’s what he did best.

He entered the office and could barely meet Brianna’s eyes,

let alone face Fabian. She gave him a look. A scolding look as he

took his coffee and breakfast into his office.

“Leave me alone for a while. Let me catch up.”

“Whatever. You two are seriously unbelievable.”

Braxton stopped short. “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. I’m busy. Go hide in your cave and be afraid of the

world.”

Braxton bristled in anger. “I’m not afraid of anyone!”

“Sure, until you look in the mirror.” She answered the phone,

turning her shoulder to him.

Holding the cardboard tray, Braxton set it on his desk and

reached to close his door. Before it shut he heard Brianna asking

the man on the phone, “Dack Torrington? What is this in regards

to?”

Braxton shut his office door and rubbed his face in

frustration. His body was so sore from the lactic acid build up, he wished he had time for a massage to work it out.

He sat at his desk and booted his computer up, feeling like

crap emotionally and physically. A weekend. Two days to catch

up on sleep…if he could sleep. Just as he thought about it, he

looked up the phone number for his doctor’s office online and

called them to make an appointment. He needed valium.

Something to help him calm down.

Brianna instant messaged him while he was waiting to be

connected to his doctor’s office. She wrote, ‘ you want to talk to Dack Torrington? He said he’s one of your auction dates.’

‘ NO! ’ Braxton typed back and finally found his way through the maze of phone options to speak to a receptionist. “Yes, it’s

Braxton Todd. I want to make an appointment.” He looked at his

inbox and watched the emails being responded to by both Fabian

and Brianna, knowing sooner or later he was going to have to

face Fabian. He just didn’t know what to