187 An Awkward Explanation
187 An Awkward Explanation.
For the first time in years, I felt accountable to someone. Not out of obligation or dependency, but because I wanted to be. Because somehow, in the midst of rebuilding my life from ashes, Sebastian had become important.
Snow continued accumulating on my windshield, creating a cocoon of white around me. The heater hummed softly, fighting against the chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
“Maybe,” Sebastian agreed. “Though I’m curious – what did you really hope to accomplish with this call, Hazel?”
“That sounds like Elliot,” Sebastian said with a hint of amusement. “Always poking his nose where it doesn’t belong”
I paused to catch my breath, suddenly aware I was gushing about another man to Sebastian. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us.
Another pause. Snow continued falling outside, thickening the silence between us. “Elliot enjoys meddling, but he doesn’t typically provide me with detailed reports of everyone he encounters during his evening,” Sebastian replied, his voice warming. “Though I appreciate you calling to explain what didn’t need explaining”
My stomach knotted. Had I said something wrong? The chill in his voice was unmistakable now.
“Is that really what you wanted?” Sebastian pressed gently.
“I can be,” he answered, warmth returning to his voice. “Shall I pick you up at noon?”
I gripped the steering wheel with my free hand. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea if he mentioned it.”
“Fine,” I huffed. “Maybe I overreacted.”
“Sebastian?
“That’s not all,” I continued, my words tumbling out faster now. “He paid for our dinner before leaving. Without asking.”
187 An Awkward Explanation.
“Sebastian,” I repeated, my voice suddenly small in the confined space of my car. “Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” he replied, his tone unreadable. “You had dinner with your new general manager?”
“Right.” My grip tightened on the phone. “The roads are getting worse.”
“I’m sure it was.” The words were polite but clipped.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “He appeared out of nowhere at the restaurant. Made a point of introducing himself to Quentin.”
My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Well… wouldn’t he?”
A brief silence followed before Sebastian chuckled softly. “And you assumed he would immediately report to me like some kind of spy?”
After ending the call, I sat motionless, the engine idling as snow continued to fall. My reflection in the rearview mirror showed flushed cheeks and bright eyes. I hardly recognized myself.
What was happening to me? I’d called Sebastian in a panic over nothing, then invited him to lunch like some lovesick teenager. This wasn’t like me at all. I was Hazel Shaw independent, self–sufficient, guarded. I didn’t fret over misunderstandings or seek
Teassurance.
“Drive carefully, Hazel.” His tone softened slightly. “Text me when you’re home.”
I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the headrest. “No,” I admitted quietly.
Relief flooded through me. “Perfect,”
## Hazel’s POV
I started the wipers, clearing away the blanket of snow from my windshield. As the world outside came back into view, so did clarity. Sebastian’s momentary coolness when I praised Quentin revealed something important – he cared enough to be affected.
The question hung between us for a moment that stretched like eternity.
“I never suggested it was.”
is tone turned teasing. “But your panic is rather tel
187 An Awkward Explanation.
“Of course.” I could practically hear his smile through the phone. “Just a courtesy call to explain a business dinner that required no explanation.
“As an employee, I clarified carefully. “Nothing more.”
“Sebastian, wait-“I blurted out before he could hang up. “Tomorrow… are you free for
lunch?”
“He is. Professionally,” I quickly added, sensing the shift. “It was a competitive recruitment process.”
I put the car in drive, carefully navigating the snow–covered streets. My phone sat on the passenger seat, a promise waiting to be kept once I reached home safely.
How quickly things were changing between us. How quickly I was changing.
“I’m not panicking,” I protested, though my racing heart suggested otherwise. “I’m simply being courteous.”
“And what wrong idea would that be, Hazel?” The playful edge in his voice made my heart skip.
Yet here I was, smiling at my phone like it held some precious secret.
And that realization was more terrifying than any snowstorm.
our
My enthusiasm for the topic took over as I continued. “His ideas for restructuring supply chain are innovative – could cut production costs by fifteen percent without sacrificing quality. And he’s already identified potential distributors in three European countries we hadn’t considered.”
The directness of his question caught me off guard. What was I trying to accomplish? The answer felt too revealing to voice.
“I will,” I promised, surprised by the request and my eagerness to fulfill it.
“Of course,” Sebastian finally responded, his voice revealing nothing. “I should let you get home safely in this weather.”
The change of subject provided welcome relief. “Yes, Quentin Young. He’s brilliant, actually. Has experience with luxury brands in Paris and Milan. I think he’ll be instrumental in helping Evening Gala expand internationally.”
187 An Awkward Explanation
“He sounds… Impressive,” Sebastian finally said, his previously warm tone noticeably
cooler.
“Yes, but it was purely professional,” I hurried to explain. “We spent all weekend working on strategies for Evening Gala, and dinner was just a continuation of our meeting.”
“That I was… that it was…” I stumbled over my words. “It wasn’t a date:
“It seems you admire him a lot,” he remarked quietly.
“I wanted to thank Elliot for the dinner,” I deflected. “Could you pass along my gratitude?”
“I see.” His voice remained neutral. “And Elliot saw you?”
The simple observation carried a weight that pressed against my chest. Was that jealousy in his voice? The thought that Sebastian Sinclair could be jealous over me was both thrilling and terrifying.
And I cared enough to notice. To worry. To call.
“I thought not.” His voice softened. “Tell me about your new general manager. Quentin, was it?”
“Goodnight then.”
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