Ella.
I’ve been standing inside my tiny closet for the last 30 minutes, with dresses and pantsuits scattered across my bedroom floor. Biting my lower lip, I realize I have nothing to wear—at least not something appropriate for a fundraiser.
In a hurry, I grab my phone and dial Kane’s number, but the call goes directly to voicemail, which is unusual; he never has his phone off during work hours.
With no other options, I quickly type a message to Jess, my fingers tapping frantically on the screen. By the time I find something to wear, I’ll definitely be late.
“Can you please send me Elijah’s number? I’m trying to get in touch with Kane, but his phone is off.”
Jess replies within seconds. When I dial Elijah’s number, it rings for a while before he finally answers, greeting me uncertainly
