Billionaire In Rehab: The Complete Series (Alpha Billionaire Romance Holiday Love Story) by Adams Claire

Author:Adams, Claire [Adams, Claire]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

Emerson

I sat in the emptiness of my new apartment amidst the minimal furniture and still-unpacked boxes and stared at my phone. As soon as I sent the message, my heart started to race. Would Brooke read it? Would she respond? What would she say? Did she feel the same way about me as I felt about her?

I hit the “send” button with my heart in my throat. I had considered sending it in an email, but I wanted to know when or if Brooke had even read the message. So, I sent her a text instead. At least I could get a confirmation using a text message. And considering it was the first communication I'd had with Brooke since the night we’d been together, I needed to know where I stood. If she wouldn’t even read it, that would tell me loud and clear.

My message confessed everything — the loss of my phone, my foolishness, jumping to conclusions, and why I hadn’t told her everything. I'd laid it all on the line, opening myself up and telling her how much I cared about her.

I couldn’t deny how I felt about her anymore; that had become clear in the light of possibly losing her. I had to let her know how I felt.

After nearly ten minutes of pacing from one room to another and literally checking the phone every thirty seconds, I picked up my guitar and turned on the amplifier I had brought over from my mom's place. I plugged it in, turned it down low so I wouldn’t upset my new neighbors before I even had a chance to meet them, sat down, and started to play. The gentle sound reverberated through the room, emphasizing how empty it was.

I played a song, then checked my phone only to find the message I’d sent remained unread. I did this three more times. About half an hour later, there was a notification the message had been read.

My heart started to pound. I imagined her reading it line by line, word by word. I waited with bated breath as I stared at the message and waited desperately to see her name switch to “Brooke is typing a message” — it didn't happen. She’d had to have finished reading it; five minutes had passed, at least. That was plenty of time to read it.

And then, finally, it happened. She started typing.

The suspense was killing me. I couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to say. What she was going to tell me. And as if the universe wanted to torture me, my phone's screen went black.

“What?!” I yelled, my voice echoing around the empty room. “No! No, no, no, no, no. Not now, not now!”

I ran around trying to locate my phone charger. When I did, I quickly plugged it in thinking the battery had died. However, instead of the “charging” icon that should have shown up on the screen when I plugged in the charger, the screen simply remained black.

With

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