fucked-up world. I’ll beg until she forgives me.
Two women walk out and I realize one them is an old ex of mine, Trisha.
“Is there anyone else in there?” I ask, grabbing her arm lightly to stop her from walking away.
“No, it was just us two. Your fiancée was in there, but she rushed out after telling us off,” she smiles but wipes it away.
“Telling you off? That doesn’t sound like her.”
She makes a sad face. “Oh, Matthew, don’t you realize the people here are lions and you just walked her straight into the den?” Her bright red lips turn up.
I frown. “What was said in there?” I ask, feeling my anger rise.
She shrugs. “Kimberly and I were just trying to figure out how you got engaged so fast since it was only a few months ago that I was the one in your bed. Were you cheating on her?”
I feel the need to vomit all over her ugly-ass dress. “Where is she?”
She rolls her eyes. “I think there’s a better question to be asked, don’t you?”
I don’t know what she’s talking about, so I don’t reply.
But she steps up to me and places her hands around the back of my neck, locking her fingers together. “Will she stay?” she whispers. “We all know your reputation, Matthew. I wouldn’t be surprised if she learned something tonight that she didn’t know before she arrived. Something that might have made her change her mind about you.”
I reach behind my neck and pull her locked fingers apart. I drop her hands and they fall to her sides. “If you said anything to her . . .” I threaten.
She shrugs carelessly. “I didn’t say a word, did I, Kimberly?”
Kimberly steps up. “I can honestly say she didn’t say anything.” Then she smiles and I know it’s not Trisha who said anything. It was her.
I shake my head as I turn on my heel, walking away from them. I quickly sweep the room, realizing she isn’t here. She must have left. I walk outside and find the rows of limos. I can’t tell which is ours, so I call the driver and he promises to swing around to pick me up. Five minutes later, I’m sliding into the back seat, pushing the button to lower the partition.
“Did you take my fiancée home?” I ask.
“No, sir. I haven’t seen her since I dropped you off,” he states.
I sink down into the seat, hoping and praying I catch her at home—that she doesn’t do anything rash until she talks to me. I can make this right. I have to make this right. I can’t imagine living my life without her. I refuse to live my life without her.
We finally make it back home and I rush up to the apartment. The place is deathly quiet as I make my way back to her room, which she hasn’t been using lately. I walk in and find it empty. I rush to the bathroom, opening the door, but it’s empty too. I open the closet door and see that everything is gone. I spin around in a panic and find her ring on top of a single piece of paper. I read over it and my world comes crashing down around me.
I slide the ring into my pocket and crumple the note, tossing it to the side. I grab my phone from my pocket as I head for the door. I call her number again and again on my drive over, but she never answers. Finally, I park in front of her building and rush inside. I try opening her door, but of course, it’s locked. I have to settle with pounding on it.
“Poppy, open this door,” I demand.
But no sounds come from inside. So I try again. “Poppy, please. We have to talk.”
“Go away, Matthew,” she finally says.
Just hearing her voice settles my erratic heart rate. I lean my forehead against the door and place my hand next to it as if I could somehow touch her through it. “Please, open up. Let me in, Poppy.”
“There’s nothing left to say or do. We’re over. Give the police the video if you must.”
I pull my hand back and hit the door loudly. “Dammit, Poppy! Let me in. I’m not going away. This isn’t over. Not for me. Give me a chance to explain.”
I hear her unlock it and quickly step back. Moments later, it’s swinging open and she’s standing before me.
“There’s nothing to explain, Matthew.” She shakes her head. “It’s