Beautiful Stranger

before you even realized it was missing.”
    I wondered if it was possible for the floor to open up and swallow me. I kind of hoped it was.

    Having done everything I could at the airport, I took a car to the hotel. With no time to replace my phone before the meeting, I called directory assistance and had them ring the office. Will wasn’t there, but his assistant assured me she’d change my account passwords herself and explain everything to Willas soon as possible. After promising her a dozen roses and a raise from her boss, I hung up and sat on the bed, glaring at the phone as I tried to decide what I would tell Sara.
    Realizing there was no easy way to do this, I dialed directory assistance again and had them ring Sara’s office.
    George answered and I closed my eyes. I liked the guy well enough, but I was in no mood to deal with him today.
    “Sara Dillon’s office,” he said.
    “Miss Dillon, please.”
    He paused just long enough for it to become awkward before saying, “And good afternoon to you too, Mr. Stella. One moment, please.”
    I heard the click as I was connected and waited for her to pick up.
    Three rings later, she answered. “This is Sara Dillon,” she said, and I felt warmth coat the inside of my chest.
    “Hey.”
    “Max? I didn’t recognize the number.”
    “Yeah. I’m calling from my hotel. You all right? Sound a little stressed.”
    “I could do without the giant stack of pricing research on my desk today. I should have come into work before lunch, but I can’t say I regret my lazy morning.”
    She paused and I closed my eyes, remembering her face when she came for the last time.
    “How was your flight?”
    “Good. Long,” I said, standing and walking as far as thephone cord would allow. I looked out the window, down to where people scurried about on the sidewalks below, completely lost in their own little worlds. “I miss you.”
    I heard her stand and a door close before she sat again. “Me, too.”
    “Did you get any sleep after I left?”
    “A little.” She laughed. “Someone wore me out.”
    “Lucky bastard, that one.”
    She hummed and I tried to picture what she was doing, what she was wearing. I decided she was wearing a skirt, nothing under, and had on her black knee-high boots.
    Bad move, Max. You’re across the country and ready to go now.
    “You’re gone for the week?” she asked.
    “Yeah. I get back Friday afternoon. Spend the night with me?”
    “Absolutely.”
    I took a deep breath, reminding myself I didn’t have any reason to be worried. Most likely the thief would wipe my phone and laptop and just sell them. “So, my bag was stolen at the airport.”
    “What?” she gasped. “That’s awful. Who does that?”
    “Arseholes.”
    “Which bag was it? Your clothes?”
    “No, my carry-on.” I took a deep breath. “My laptop, my phone. I’ve already had the passwords changed for anythingwork related, but Sara . . . the SD card I used last night was in there and I haven’t cleared all of it yet. My phone, too.”
    “Okay,” she said on an exhale. “Okay.” I heard the sound of leather creaking and could imagine her standing from her desk chair again and pacing the room. “I’m assuming the thief wasn’t caught.”
    “No . . . Just a couple of shithead kids from what I gather.”
    A few beats of silence filled the line and I remembered why I sucked at phone calls. I wanted to see her, to read her expression and gauge whether she looked worried or relieved.
    “Well, odds are that they were just out for a quick buck, right?” she said finally. “They’ll probably pawn the laptop and phone and toss the SD drive. For all we know they’ve cleared the laptop and the card’s already sitting in the trash somewhere.”
    I pressed my forehead to the window and exhaled, my breath forming a cloud of condensation on the glass. “Christ, I love you. I was very fucking stressed-out about how you’d take this news.”
    “Just come back so we can get some new pictures, okay?”
    I smiled into the phone. “Deal.”

    The art show Saturday night and the conference on Sunday were complete insanity. I met several people in person I’dspoken with on the phone for months, and had agreed to a few meetings in New York later on to hammer out possible investments. The pace of the weekend allowed me to keep my mind off the fact that I had no pictures of naked Sara for distraction.
    Monday I woke to a sky full of fog and croissant-and-coffee room