He didn’t say anything. He just poured vodka into the glass in my hand. One of my best friend’s husband’s finest qualities as a friend was knowing when to just shut up and pour you a drink.
Then he poured everyone else one and passed them around, and they drank with me. Ash put his arm around me.
Danica came over and sat down on my other side and slipped her arm around me, too. I slumped against her, putting my head on her shoulder.
“It’ll be okay, Taylor,” she said softly.
But she knew it had been over twenty-four hours, and Cary still hadn’t spoken to me.
I’d called him.
I’d texted.
I’d even knocked on the studio window, once, where the shades were now closed.
It’ll be okay, Danica kept saying.
He’ll come around, Courteney kept telling me.
But with each passing hour, I believed them just a little bit less.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Taylor
I’m a Stranger
When I arrived back at Cary’s place on Monday morning, tea in hand and ready to work, I really wasn’t sure what to expect.
Half of me had gradually absorbed this strange new reality over the weekend—the one where Cary had locked himself inside his studio and was no longer communicating with me. The other half of me actually expected to walk into his house to find the studio doors standing open, as usual, welcoming me in to start my day with him.
The studio doors were closed.
I placed the decaf chai tea I’d brought for Cary on the floor. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. I didn’t bother knocking because I knew he wouldn’t hear me.
I pulled out my phone and sent him a text to let him know I was here.
Then I stood staring at the closed doors in front of me for a long moment, absorbing this sight that I’d never seen, not once, since I came to work with Cary.
Not until I screwed up.
You guys always send him spiraling.
That was what Courteney said to her parents. And the thought that I’d now sent him spiraling… into sadness? Pain? Anxiety? Depression? Such fear or anger that he felt the need to lock himself inside his studio and stop talking to me and his sister?
I couldn’t stand it.
But I just didn’t know what to do about it.
I was only dimly aware that I wasn’t alone, that Freddy had appeared and was now rubbing against my ankles. I finally snapped out of it and bent down. I ruffled my fingers into the thick fur of his cheek, the way he liked. He purred and rubbed against my fingers.
“I hope you’re keeping him company in there,” I told him, my voice small in the big, empty foyer. “Give him lots of love, okay?”
Cary’s cat made a happy little chirping sound as I stood up, gazing up at me with his big, green eyes. When I smiled at him, he cocked his head and swished his tail, which meant he was waiting for me to play with him or feed him.
I wasn’t in the mood to play, so I went into the kitchen. He trotted after me. I put some of his kitty treats in his bowl and he purred loudly as he ate.
I crouched down next to him and ran my hand down his back and along his tail. “You know, you’re pretty easy to read, Freddy. I wish Cary would just tell me what he needs. Wouldn’t that be nice?” At the sound of Cary’s name, Freddy flicked his head up, looking at me a moment as he chewed, then crammed his face back in his bowl. “I’m glad he has you.”
I got to my feet, almost bursting into tears with the sudden swell of emotion that hit me as I watched Cary’s cat. This sweet little creature, the only one he let into his inner sanctum when he was upset.
Then I dug in my purse and did the only thing I had left to try: I wrote him a note on my star-shaped purple notepad, ripped it off, and folded it.
I’m sorry I let you down.
I tucked it snuggly under Freddy’s collar.
“You give him that for me, okay?” I stroked him one more time, then headed through the house, passing the closed studio doors on my way to the living room. I phoned Courteney, and she picked up just as I was stepping out into the backyard through the French doors.
“Hey, Taylor,” she answered. “Good morning.”
“Not so good, actually. I’m at Cary’s place. I always