I’ve even driven into the city and sat at the free clinic for hours, hoping she’ll show up.
“Maybe you could invite your friends over,” Mom says. “Or we could go shopping. You’ll need new clothes for senior year.”
“You think I give a shit about school?”
She doesn’t know what to say to me. Nobody does.
I sit at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a dick. It’s just that today is …” I can’t bring myself to say it.
“Her birthday. I know, honey.”
“I keep thinking maybe she’ll come home today. Maybe this was all some big misunderstanding with her father.”
She looks at me sympathetically, knowing as well as I do that’s not what happened.
Last week, after Detective Abrahms finished with me, I went straight to the room where I’d seen Dr. and Mrs. Evans and told them about the baby. It was obvious they had no clue. They broke down, not even mad at me. Their only concern was with the whereabouts of their daughter—and after I’d revealed the information about Rob—her safety.
Her mother came to my house and asked to see the ultrasound pictures. It was devastating. She kept telling us she now had two people to mourn. Mom ended up asking her to leave.
I’ve tried a thousand times to picture a life without Abby in it, but I can’t. I’ve only known her for nine months, but I might as well have met her the day I was born, because she is so much a part of me, I feel incomplete without her.
I go to my room and look at the keyboard, wishing I had the urge to play something, anything. But it’s like my will to live disappeared right along with Abby. I throw myself down onto the bed, hoping for the millionth time that this will turn out to be a bad dream.
I must’ve fallen asleep, and when my eyes open, it’s dark outside. I check my phone, something I do obsessively in case Abby tries to contact me. It’s almost nine o’clock. I sit on the edge of the bed and run my hands through my hair. I watch my tears drop to the hardwood floor. She’d have come by now.
There’s a knock on the front door. I jump up and hit my knee on the bedpost in my haste to run out of my room. I barely notice the pain. All I care about is getting to her. I beat Mom to the door and rip it open, heart in my throat.
It’s not Abby, though. It’s Detective Abrahms.
“Hi, Chris,” he says. The grave look on his face tells me he’s not bringing good news. “Mind if I come in?” I back up with an uneven step and an indescribable emptiness in the pit of my stomach. He motions to the couch. “Sit down, son.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Bria
Despite what happened between Crew and me a few days ago, I’m excited as I go to the production studio. Today we’re shooting Reckless Alibi’s very first music video.
On the subway, I browse the many apology texts Crew sent me. I’m still mad at him for ruining a perfectly good night. Surely he must understand we have to interact with our fans. Our fans. I look up from my phone as it dawns on me. Abby was a singer, like me. What if something happened to her because of a fan? The possibility almost makes me feel guilty for yelling at him.
At the studio the first person I see is Crew. He’s loitering by the door as if he’s been waiting for me. Guilt is written all over his face, and my anger melts away. I walk directly to him, and he grabs onto me like a drowning man.
“I’m so sorry,” he says into my hair. “I promise I’ll do better.”
I get lost in the feel of his arms around me. For two days I’ve wondered if I’d be in them again. But now that I’m here, I know it’s where I want to be. I just have to give him more time. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”
“I was a dick. You had every right. Can I get a do-over tonight? I want to make it up to you. Let me take you to dinner.”
I smile and nod.
“Can we please get started,” Ronni says, interrupting our private moment. “Time is money. Brianna, you go with Elsie. She’ll do your hair, makeup, and wardrobe. Crew, you