The Checklist by Addie Woolridge (color ebook reader TXT) 📗

that you made for my friend Stacy,” Dylan said, wrapping the word calls in air quotes. She now had the full weight of Tim’s attention.

“What about them?” Tim said, feigning nonchalance with a poker face so awful that she would have to discourage him from entering even a charity tournament in the future.

“She was over the moon. Beyond grateful. Thank you.”

Tim relaxed. “Calls are easy. It was no big deal. Really.”

“Well, it’s a big deal to her. And to me.”

“I know I’m difficult at times, and after all you did for me, it seemed like the least I could do.”

“Stacy is running around here somewhere. Short. Gold dress. Tall heels,” Dylan said, looking around the crowded room. When she caught Tim gazing up at the rising sun on the walls, she gave up and said, “When I find her, I’ll make sure to bring her over. I know she’ll want to say thank you herself.”

“Sounds good. Congratulations. Tonight is a real win for all of us.”

“Thank you,” Dylan said.

Watching Tim walk away, Dylan was suddenly aware of her aloneness and the light touch of Mike’s gaze. She took one more sip of champagne before lifting her head to meet it. Mike’s entire posture was relaxed, as if he was completely at ease with himself and where the night was heading. Dylan felt her heart squeeze as she thought about how comforting that easy demeanor had once seemed to her and how alien it felt to be away from it so suddenly. Mike had been a calm in the storm of her own making, and without him, she felt unmoored.

Dylan exhaled, as if she were blowing out a birthday candle, then took her first step toward what she hoped was still a safe harbor. She attempted to slow down and match Mike’s mellow saunter toward her, like the Hollywood dress was meant to imply. She closed the gap between them until she was close enough to see the delicate pinstripes on Mike’s suit.

“All of this,” Mike said, one hand still in his pocket, the other gesturing around the room, “is incredible.”

He had stopped about two feet away from her. A safe distance if he needed to run for cover. She couldn’t say she blamed him.

“Thank you. It was a team effort. Deep and Brandt did a lot of the work,” Dylan said, looking around the room, grasping for something to say. “And Susan from your office. She is great.”

Mike wrinkled his nose at the mention of Susan’s name.

“What’s that face for?” Dylan asked, unable to stop herself.

“I have a confession about that.” Mike shrugged, placing both his hands into his pockets. “I was at a conference in Lexington, and I was mad, so I dumped you off on Susan and told her to make whatever Technocore wanted happen. She isn’t a fundraiser or even an educator. She is a mail room coordinator.”

Dylan blinked at him. “Mail room coordinator?”

Mike grimaced. “I thought you were going to mail in a pity check and all she’d have to do was tell you the address.”

She couldn’t help it. Dylan busted up. “Seems like Susan is in the wrong role, my friend.”

“I’ve been saying that for months, but no one would give her a shot. So I did,” Mike said, relaxing as he watched Dylan shake her head. “Accidentally.”

“That was a massive shot.”

“In my defense, I had no idea. And none of the actual fundraisers would help me after”—he paused, choosing his words with care—“the first pass didn’t work out.”

Dylan tried not to let his delicate phrasing sting.

“About that.” The band started a big up-tempo number, and she took a half step closer to him. She wanted to be sure he heard her the first time, because she wasn’t positive she would be able to work up the courage to repeat herself. “I’m so sorry.”

Mike looked momentarily surprised, rocking back on his heels and studying her. For a beat it looked like he might head for the door; then he dropped his shoulders, coming back to his relaxed stance. “It’s okay. Given that guy’s outburst just now, it looks like you had a lot going on.”

“I mean, yes. But that is no excuse. I was wrong. And I knew I was wrong when I called you, but instead of giving you the apology you deserved, I was mean to you.”

“You were kinda mean,” Mike said, humor playing in his eyes.

“Kinda?” Dylan laughed. “I was so mean. Like, I was possessed kind of mean.”

“You basically ate me alive. I low-key wanted to cry when I got off the phone.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t. I did, and I was the demon on the other end of the line.”

Mike pursed his lips and shrugged. Dylan squinted up at him as his shoulders shook.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“It’s just the mental image of your head spinning and vomit flying everywhere.”

“Nice. Now I’m the possessed girl from The Exorcist in your mind. Very sexy.”

“It’s better than toe emojis.”

“Low blow, man. Don’t make me regret being nice to you.”

“I noticed your toes are no longer smiling at me.” Mike grinned as Dylan chuckled and shook her head. “All right. I’m sorry I made fun of your poor taste in pedicures. Continue.”

“Anyway. It’s . . .” Dylan trailed off, letting the last of her laughter fall away as she collected confidence from every corner of her body. He stepped a few inches into her sphere. His expression betraying his intent, as if listening to her were the only thing he needed to do for the rest of his life. “It’s funny. When you weren’t around, you were on my mind.”

“How do you mean?” Mike asked, a tender confusion on his face.

Dylan paused to take the last sip of her champagne before setting the glass on a nearby table. “I used to need lists to get by. And you were at the very top of my no-go list.”

The turn caught Mike off guard, and she rushed to make sense of herself, her words messy and fast. “But