Pushing open the cracked bedroom door, I walk in and straight to the closet. The space I’d cleared for her to hang her clothes is full of empty hangers. When I look in the corner where we stashed her suitcase, it’s gone. “Fuck!”
But then a shoe bin catches my eyes and then another. I open one of her drawers and so much is still in there. Rushing into the bathroom, some of her beauty shit is still on the counter, so nothing makes sense. I pull my phone from my pocket and call her like I should have done hours ago.
My call is sent immediately to voicemail.
Is her phone off, or is she not taking my calls? Huh . . .
Returning to the kitchen, I call the next best person to give me the answers I need. Tealey. Shoving the chicken, vegetables, and potatoes into the fridge, the meal I was hoping to make her as an apology is now on the back burner.
“Hello?”
“Tealey, it’s Jackson—”
“I know. Technology these days,” she says, and I can only imagine an eye roll accompanied that statement by the sound of her grimacing tone. “You can’t prank anyone anymore.”
“What?” I don’t know what kind of crazy conversation I’m in, but I can’t get sidetracked. “Look, where’s Marlow?”
“What do you mean, where’s Marlow?”
I hold the phone out to check the time, considering how odd she’s acting. It’s past six o’clock, so it’s reasonable that she’s drunk or on her way to an inebriated state. Putting it back to my ear, I say it slower, “Where’s. Marlow?”
“On her way to LA. How do you not know this?”
I run my hand through my hair. Shit. “I was in meetings all day.”
“And she didn’t tell you? I’m confused, Jackson, but I’m also concerned for Marlow. She’s alone right now.”
I go to the bedroom, not sure what to do with myself other than pace like that’s going to solve the issue. “She called me, Tealey, but like I said, I was in meetings all day and couldn’t answer. Why are you concerned for her? What’s going on?”
“It’s her dad. He’s in the hospital.”
“Shit.” So many thoughts and emotions are crowding my head. I’m not sure which one to focus on. More importantly, what must Marlow be feeling? “What happened?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t have any answers. His housekeeper called her.”
I move into the office and pull my suitcase down from the closet. “What? Why not his wife?”
“I don’t know. She told me not to go with her, to stay, but now I’m thinking she shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m going.”
“Wait,” she says, causing me to stop as soon as my suitcase lands on the bed. She sighs. “I want to go, but I don’t want to get in the way. Are you going tonight?”
“I’ll catch the first flight.”
“Okay. She hasn’t landed, but she’s supposed to call me when she does. What do you want me to tell her?”
The question stumps me because I don’t have the answer. Does she want me there? She didn’t leave a voicemail, so I don’t know what she’s thinking. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I confess, “I was short with her last night. She made the food, but I had . . . there’s stuff going on with my work, and I . . .”
“She understands,” she says, no judgment in her tone. “We all have bad days. If your heart tells you to go, don’t think twice about it. Just go to her.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I go into the bathroom to pack my toiletries bag. “Do you know if she’s staying at his house?”
“I’m sure she will. I’ll send you the address before you land.” There’s a pause, and then she says, “I’ve never seen her happier than when she’s with you.”
My hand stops while packing my toothbrush. It’s not something she had to tell me, but I’m glad she did. I’m curious if it’s observation or . . . “Has she said anything to you?”
“She doesn’t have to. I know Marlow better than she knows herself or used to. She’s really come into her own with you. I think you both bring out the best in each other. Text me when you land?”
I toss my cologne in the bag. “I will. Thanks, Tealey.”
“No problem. Now go be there for your girl and safe travels.”
As soon as we hang up, I pull up flights and book the first one that will give me enough time to make it to the airport.
LA, here I come.
28
Marlow
The house was left open, a cheese sandwich sits like old times on the counter, and my room is just the same. Not that I expected much to change in a ten-thousand-square-foot house. I doubt my dad or Lorie have visited this wing of the house in years.
But it’s still weird being here, especially alone.