Peyton Brooks becomes friends with Morgan Stone, a vivacious and fun young woman. Morgan takes Peyton to the Hamptons, where her family owns a gorgeous house. Morgan's brother, a casanova with a lot of baggage, and Peyton don't get along initially...
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I had read Peyton's text so many times and started writing a reply, but changed my mind. I would go and give her a huge hug at work and tell her I needed her to hold on, not to give up now. That my twin brother was an absolute ass, but he knew he made a mistake.
I picked up her favourite coffee to-go and hurried into the elevator, pressing the number of the floor she worked on. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest and ears as I exited the elevator and walked down the hall to where her tiny office was. I knocked on her door and opened it by pressing down the door handle with my elbow. "I come bearing coffee..." I sang as I walked in. The office was silent and there was no sign of Peyton. Her coat and bag weren't there and everything looked untouched. I looked around and almost threw both cups of coffee high in the air when another editor popped her head in the door.
"She called in sick. She won't be in today," she said with a smile and chuckled as I tried to catch my breath from the surprise.
"Thank you," I called after her as she walked away. Then I put the coffee cups down and grabbed my phone, dialling Peyton's number.
Signal. Signal. Signal. Answering machine. "Hey, you've called Peyton. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."
I exhaled sharply and opened a new message.
'P, I'm worried. Are you sick? Or are you avoiding me?'
I sent it, even though I immediately regretted my way of phrasing it. So I sent another.
'Sorry, that sounded so narcissistic, I'm sorry. I know you're hurting, but please talk to me.'
My phone buzzed immediately, a sense of relief washing over me. But when I turned on the screen it was just a reminder that I had a meeting in fifteen minutes. "Goddammit," I groaned under my breath and left Peyton's little office, both cups of coffee staying behind on her desk.
I decided to call Harry while I took the stairs down to my floor. He answered almost immediately, his voice rough from lack of sleep and probably from crying.
"Morgan, is everything alright?" He said in a scruffy voice.
"No." I huffed and had to regain some control not to yell at him. "She called in sick. She isn't answering my calls or texts. I swear to God, Harry..."
I could hear him moving on the other end. "Do you want me to go check her place?"
"You do realise that would mean you had to talk to her, right? Do you think you can do that without choking the last bit of light and life out of her?" My voice was dripping with sarcasm and I knew it hurt him, but I had to make sure he realised what he had done.
"Morgan..." He started, but sighed. "I know I fucked up. And I know I need to make things right. I just need to make sure I do it the right way. But yes, I will go check on her. I can bring Niall if you..."
