Of course it was him.
I picked up the phone with a sigh already on my lips.
"Aren't you supposed to be off hijacking the global economy or whatever?"
His voice came smooth, amused, and irritatingly warm through the speaker. "Oh, sweetheart, don't tell me you're drowning without me already."
I leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. "No, I was hoping a pigeon shits on your million-dollar suit."
He chuckled, deep and low, and it made my stomach flutter in a way I hated.
"I missed your sunshine," he said, sarcasm dripping like honey. "So. How's it feel being back? Don't you just love paperwork stacked higher than your emotional repression?"
"You are such an asshole," I muttered, grinning despite myself.
There was a short pause.
Then, quietly, he asked, "…You holding up okay?"
My smile faltered just a little, just for a second.
"I'm fine," I said. "Don't turn into a therapist now. It's weird."
