35 CAMRYNI managed to keep my phone turned off all weekend, and now I’m back at work on Monday morning without knowing whether Anna or Sterling tried to contact me.
I almost caved a thousand times. Not that I would have contacted him. But I stood at the kitchen counter, my finger poised over the power button to my cell for a long time on Sunday. The pull to know if he’d tried to contact me was so strong. Would there be a text from him to say he was sorry? Would there be an explanation that, after facing all the women, he decided he wanted to get back with Rebecca after all?
It was better not knowing. For now, at least.
Navigating my way through mass department e-mails and other things of nonimportance, I stifle a yawn as I try to unclutter my in-box. The comforting morning ritual, paire
