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But all he sends is a thumbs-up.

A thumbs-up.

A fucking thumbs-up.

What?

Ugh.

Preston

Shit, sorry. I meant to send the flexing arm emoji. I’m glad you’re eating. Fuel up. I know your work ethic.

Whoops.

Jumped the gun on that one.

Grace

Thanks, and you, too. Don’t work too hard at the charity event.

I set the phone down, but then it starts to ring with a FaceTime call from him.

I glance down at my sleep tank and then scan the room to see if I can fix my appearance quickly. I can’t.

I accept the call.

“Good morning,” he says. He’s still on his family’s plane.

“Morning.”

“Did you just wake up?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“You should take the day off. It could be good for you.”

“Just randomly take the day off?”

“Yeah. You run that place, Grace. You can do whatever you want.”

“Well, I don’t want it to fall apart more than it already is.”

“It won’t after just one day.”

He has a point, but it’s not happening.

“What’s on your schedule for today?” I ask. When he’s here, I always know what he’s doing, but in LA, I have no idea what his normal routine consists of.

“I’m … hey, can I ask you something?”

I nod and take a bite of my breakfast.

“Why do you seem more into talking to me when it’s through text or like right now, on the phone, instead of in person? In person, it’s like I have to drag it out of you sometimes.”

I slowly chew my food.

Do I do that?