Alec nods. “Probably a good idea. I wouldn’t want to leave if I went inside with you.”

Confused, I chew my lip, fighting the way a sob wants to rise up and rip out of me. Right now, he looks like he loves me.

“Okay,” I say. “Have a good trip.”

“Read what I wrote,” he says, nodding to the bag. Alec takes a step forward and bends, pressing his lips to my cheek. When he straightens, he lifts his eyes up and over my shoulder and seems to throw an anchor there in the distance, needing something to propel himself forward. I stare at the shopping bag, listening to his footsteps as he jogs down the stairwell. I curl my toes into the soles of my shoes to keep from following after him. A minute later, an engine starts, a car pulls from the curb, and this time, Alec Kim is really on his way out of LA.

Twenty-One

My biggest worry about being back in my bed is unfounded: there isn’t any trace of Alec in here. I set the shopping bag down and pick up a pillow, pressing it to my face. The sheets are crisp and smell like fabric softener. Eden. She got rid of his things, too—the toothbrush, the swim trunks. If there was anything else he might have left here, I’ll never know.

I shower until I’m loose and drowsy, dry off adequately, and pull on sweats and a tank top before falling backward onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Pointedly ignoring the blue shopping bag. I’m not ready to see my things and remember how they looked in his hotel suite.

From beyond my closed bedroom door, I can hear Eden quietly moving around the apartment. Making coffee. Unloading the dishwasher. Taking out the trash and recycling. Her presence is sweetly reassuring. With a groan, I roll myself up in my blankets, squeezing my eyes closed.

But suddenly, I am wide awake. There is a ticking bomb in here with me. I open my eyes and stare across the room at the bag.

Read what I wrote.

Whatever else is in there, there is a note.

I should not read it with tired eyes, an exhausted brain. I should not read it feeling as emotional as I do.

I know better, but kick away the blankets anyway, get up, and cross the room.

Inside the bag is my ugly Post Malone hat, the game console Alec bought for us only a week ago. But not everything in here is something I forgot at the suite. There’s a small box of fresh doughnuts. An expensive bottle of Zinfandel.

Alec’s dress shirt that I wore when I tied his bow tie.

I bite my lips, holding in the pained gasp as I curl it into my chest, inhaling.

The last item, at the bottom of the bag, is a postcard with a beautiful picture of Laguna Beach. On the blank side, Alec has written only a handful of words.

Gigi,

I know you are upset.

But please answer my calls.

—A

His calls?

My heart drops and a frantic, heavy bolus of adrenaline hits my bloodstream. He never had my other number.

I meant what are you doing in LA.

I couldn’t, he’d said. I had to—

Oh God. No.

You could have talked to me, I’d said.

His expression, so controlled. You’re right. I could have.

The way he reacted like he’d been pushed when I told him I’d left the Batphone here. How he quietly told me I was making assumptions about why I’d found him on my doorstep.

I trip into the bathroom, falling to my knees and checking the trash.

Tags: Ivy Owens Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net