She chortled. “Well, I was kind of hoping to be with you that day.”
“Awesome,” he went on. “We’re doing a cocktail reception that night as a sort of kickoff for the opening weekend. Semi-formal. Eight o’clock. Sound good?”
She fell silent again.
“Sammie?” He chuckled. “You’re making me wonder about my cell coverage.”
“Are you serious?”
“About my cell coverage?”
“No, hon. Not about your cell coverage,” she hissed.
She had become instantly pissed off so he began racking his brain for reasons why. After coming up with nothing, he took a chance and asked, mildly fearing for his life.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Your opening is the weekend of the twenty-first?”
“Uh … Yes. Is that a problem?”
“Yes, Nick. It’s a problem.”
He became bewildered. “Why? What’s the matter?”
“Does August twenty-first ring any bells for you that don’t have to do with your new restaurant?”
He squinted at the tail lights in front of him as he thought when it suddenly dawned on him.
Oh shit.
August twenty-first of the previous year was the day he’d nearly fallen to his death; the day he’d fessed up; the day she’d given him a do-over; the day they’d decided was their anniversary.
They had planned a backpacking trip to Big Bend for that weekend to commemorate it. A weekend where he was going to take a break from the chaos of opening the new restaurant and focus exclusively on her, and them, and how much all of it meant to him.
And somehow, in the midst of this exciting new phase of his career, he’d forgotten all about it.
“Oh God. Sammie, I—”
“Don’t.” She huffed, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to hear it. Not again. Not over this. I can deal with you constantly forgetting our dinner plans, but forgetting this? It’s just … too much.”
“Sweetheart—”
“Stop,”she insisted. “And go ahead and let your meeting go as long as it needs to. I’ll be staying in tonight. Alone.”
And then, she hung up.
* * *
For two weeks, Sammie didn’t speak to him.
He’d call and call, call some more and always got the same result: him apologizing to her voice-mail.
“Sammie, please call me back. I just need to talk to you. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.”
“Sweetheart, it’s me again. I think it would be good if we talked about all of this. Call me back.”
“Sammie, I miss you. I’m so sorry about everything. I love you, sweetheart. Please call me. Or text me and let me know you’re okay. I’m starting to get worried.”
