Eden cleaned everything. There’s nothing but a fresh bag there.
A sob rips from me but when I stand, I see the Post-it note on the bowl of the sink:
I turned it off, but it’s in your nightstand. If you throw it away again, I promise to leave it there. —E.
With shaking hands, I move to the bedroom, pull the Batphone out of the drawer. In the time it takes to turn on, I force myself to pull in deep, intentional breaths so I don’t panic. The screen comes to life.
Nothing.
Nothing.
There’s nothing.
I turn, sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed, struggling against the throat-swelling sting of disappointed tears.
And then my phone buzzes in my palm. With blurry eyes, I look down at a screen that is lit up with dozens of notifications. Missed calls. Voicemails.
I check the time stamps. Barely two hours after he called and told me to “please take care,” Alec called me back.
And then again.
And again.
And again.
His calls span Friday afternoon and deep into the night. They start up again before sunrise on Saturday.
Fourteen missed calls in total, all while I was at my parents’ house, assuming he was on a plane, assuming he had prioritized everything above me. His first voicemail is seven seconds long. “Gigi. Please call me back. I’ve changed my plans and am not flying home until Sunday.”
Twelve more missed calls and then his second, and final, voicemail, from late in the afternoon on Saturday. It’s just over a minute long.
“Gigi.” He pauses, exhaling slowly. “Right. I don’t know why I keep calling when you haven’t answered any of the other times. But I heard earlier today that you lost your job and am gutted. Here I am, in the thick of this stupid internet hurricane and yet I’m at an absolute standstill. Since you won’t answer, here is what I wanted you to know. I’d planned to fly home to Sunny to discuss how to handle this. But I tried to leave and absolutely could not get on the plane without you. I kept hearing your voice on the phone, telling me over and over that you didn’t understand. It was all a blur, but I must have been cold to you.” His words break, his voice cracking. “After everything—to be accused… well. I was in shock.” He breaks off again, huffing out another breath. “Anyway, so here I am, wandering LA, doing absolutely nothing, letting this problem fester. Retracing our steps the past two weeks and wondering how on earth it is that I could fall in love in a matter of days. But I did. In fact, I think I fell in love in a matter of minutes, with the woman sitting opposite me at a hotel bar. She was exhausted but mesmerizing, wearing a red dress and nothing else.” He goes silent for a beat. “Gigi, I can’t let the present circumstances rob us of the chance to see where this can go.” I hear him swallow and then pull in a shaky breath. “I suppose I’ll call you again when I get to London. I hope you’ll answer.”
I cup a hand over my mouth, capturing the sob that escapes. I could have been with him this weekend. We could have been weathering this storm together. Regret sends a staggering wave of nausea through my gut, and I have to close my eyes, tilt my face to the ceiling and suck in air.
… wondering how on earth it is that I could fall in love in a matter of days.
In fact, I think I fell in love in a matter of minutes, with the woman sitting opposite me at a hotel bar.
I close my eyes, remembering. Rewriting the horror of seeing the photos of us online, reclaiming that night.
She was exhausted but mesmerizing, wearing a red dress and nothing else.
Curiosity presses gently at the edges of my thoughts, propelling me to my feet. I search through the suitcase I’d hastily packed at the Waldorf Astoria. I rifle back through the contents of the shopping bag he left on my doorstep. But I can’t find my red dress anywhere.
Retrieving Alec’s shirt from the bag, I pull it on, climb into bed, and listen to his voicemail again and again and again until I fall asleep.
When I wake up, the apartment is still, sounds muted. It’s a few minutes before two, meaning a miracle has occurred and I’ve slept much of the day away.
Outside my room, the lights are out and late-afternoon sunlight slants into the front window, turning the yellow couch a soft gold, turning the big blue chair a vibrant turquoise. The apartment is spotless. There are fresh flowers on the small dining room table, and a note that says simply: I love you. —E.
For the first time in days, I feel like I can pull in a deep breath.
Eden has set out a bowl of leftovers on the kitchen counter with pointedly obvious instructions.
Step 1: Place bowl in microwave.
Step 2: Heat for two minutes.