By 11pm, I've had enough. Tossing the covers back, I sit up with a groan.
Can't sleep. Too much guilt. Too many tangled thoughts. I swipe the phone off my nightstand and call quickly, before common sense can butt in.
"Come on, come on."
Ansel answers after the fifth ring. He sounds fuzzy, like he's in another country and not a twenty minute walk away. "Ignis Innovations. This is Ansel Carson."
"Obviously," I say flatly. "Who else would be in your office at 11pm on a Wednesday?"
"Philomena." You can hear the smile in his voice. My eyes blur again, and I slam them closed before tears spill down my cheeks.
He's such a good man. I've done him so dirty. "Everyone else calls me Philo, you know."
"Well, yes. That's why I like to call you Philomena. There's a whole extra syllable just for m
