Not Sorry

She’s right. I love Olive. I want Olive. I have no idea what our future together would look like, but I have to try to find her. Wherever she is. And I know that as much as Jamie wants to help me she won’t disrespect Olive’s wishes. She won’t tell me where Olive is.

I immediately open my phone and call one of my assistants.

“Hello Mr. Burrows,” my assistant says.

“I need your help to find Olive. Call airlines. Call any relatives or friends of Olive’s that you can find. Do anything and everything you can to find her? Do you understand?”

“Of course Mr. Burrows. I’ll get right on it,” she says.

“No, get everyone on it. Now.”

I end the call and then jump into my car and race to Olive’s apartment. Even though Jamie said that Olive moved I have to see for myself.

It takes me twenty minutes to get to her apartment and the entire time all I can think is please be there. Or please let a neighbor know where she is.

I pull my car over on the first available spot I can find and jump out to run inside her apartment building. I notice the no parking zone sign as soon jump out of my car but I don’t care. I need to see her as soon as possible. I’ll worry about my car later.

I run up the stairs and to her apartment. I knock holding my breath that she is going to come to the door. I hear footsteps and my heart races faster. The door opens and woman that is double Olive’s age is standing in the doorway looking at me with annoyance.

“Yes?” she says.

I frown. “Is Olive here?” I ask hoping this woman is Olive’s mother or something, but I know without asking that she isn’t. She looks nothing like Olive.

“There is no Olive here,” she says starting to close the door.

I grab the door. “She lived here before you. Do you know where she went?”

She glares at me. “Why the fuck would I know?”

She slams the door shut this time before I have a chance to stop her.

I run my hand through my hair. This is getting me nowhere but I have to keep trying.

I run to the next door and knock furiously, hoping that a neighbor knows where she is. I don’t get an answer so I move to the next door. It opens almost immediately.

“Do you know where your old neighbor Olive moved to?” I ask.

The man frowns. “No idea.”

I run to the next door and I get the same answer. I’m not going to find any answers here.

I run down the stairs while I pull out my phone to call my assistant back, hoping that in the last twenty minutes she has found something, anything for me to go on.

“Hello Mr. Burrows,” she says politely when she answers.

“Do you have anything yet?” I snap.

“No sir. I’m sorry. We will keep looking.”

I end the call and run back to my car. But it is no longer there. Towed most likely.

I don’t have time to deal with finding it though. I call an Uber and when it arrives I tell him to go to the airport. I should get my private jet ready but I have no idea where to have it go. So it seems silly to spend all of the money and time flying form place to place endlessly until I find her.

But maybe if I just go to the airport she’ll still be there. Maybe she hasn’t left yet.

But after searching the airport for half an hour I know she isn’t here. I try calling her but she doesn’t answer her phone.

I stand in front of the ticket booth trying to figure it out. Where would a woman who has never traveled before go? Where would she go?