my bedroom. The phone rings again and again, but my eyes and feet are too scared to move in its direction. I feel the room spinning around me, or maybe it’s my head that is spinning.
Along with the phone ringing, I hear my front door open. I look in shock and afraid in case it’s Nico. The echoing sound of my breath fills my ears. I don’t know if I should run or stay. I’m like a deer caught in the headlights when I see it’s Francis. He stands there in shorts and a T-shirt. I hated it when he bought a condo in my building, but I’m thankful for it right now. “So I take it you heard the news.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, a sob comes out of me. My hand flies to my mouth to stop it from escaping, but I’m not fast enough. My body starts to shake uncontrollably. I feel like I’m falling, but I don’t crash into the floor this time. Instead, Francis is catching me. He’s picking me up off my feet. “That motherfucker,” he hisses as my phone rings again.
He looks at me as I bury my face in my hands. “This can’t be happening,” I say in a whisper. “It can’t be.”
I look at Francis, whose phone rings. He picks it up. “Yeah, I’m with her now.” He looks at me. “It’s Trevor,” he says and then listens to what Trevor says. “How the fuck should I know?” he yells. “From the looks of her, she didn’t know anything.”
I reach for my phone, seeing the missed calls. Twenty-three calls from Nico. All this morning along with voice mails.
My hands shake, and I get up on auto pilot. I walk to my closet, taking down a bag. “What are you doing?” Francis asks.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I say, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.
“It looks like you’re running away.” He baits me and I shake my head.
“I guess you can say I’m running away.” I start putting things in the bag. “I have a couple of kids I need to go and meet,” I say, not even sure I know what I’m packing. I’m just throwing shit in my bag.
“That’s a good idea,” he says, his phone beeping again. “Did you know?”
“Are you kidding me, Francis?” I hiss at him. “Do you think I’d be involved with him? I was with him two days ago.”
“He didn’t tell you?” he asks again.
“Francis.” I say his name, and he holds up his hands. “I think I would remember him saying, ‘Oh, hey, Becca, come over to eat dinner because I’m getting married tomorrow.’”
“Are you going to talk to him?” he asks, and I stand here with my heart shattered in my chest. Literally, it feels like I’m walking on shards of glass with no shoes on.
“I don’t think there is anything that I can say to him,” I answer, and the pain rips through me again. My hand goes to my chest to stop the pressure. “I have nothing to say to him.”
“I mean, there are always three sides to a story,” he says, and I zip the bag closed.
“Pretty sure there are not three sides to someone getting married,” I say the words. I walk over to my phone and call Erika, who answers right away.
“Becca.” She says my name, and I hate that people are feeling bad for me. I close my eyes to stop the tears from coming, but they come anyway.
“Hey.” I try to talk without it sounding like I have a frog in my throat. “I need you to get me a private plane in the next hour,” I say.
“Where are we going?” she asks, and I know that she is going to be on the plane with me.
“I have a couple of kids in New York I want to see. Then I think we should head to Chicago,” I say. “Let’s start with New York and work from there.”
“I’ll get you a room at—” I stop her from talking.
“I want another hotel,” I say right away.
“I’ll fix it and send you the details for the plane,” she says, and I hang up the phone.
“You know he’s going to come looking for you,” Francis says, and I sit on my bed. My hands still tremble a bit when I see that he’s texted me.
“Why?” I don’t know what exactly I’m asking him. It’s a loaded question. Why did he do this? Why didn’t