Sydney’s little friend scowled. I gave him the most supplicating look I could muster. “You didn’t return any of my calls. You left me no choice.”
“How did you get into the building?” he shot back, looking more than a little suspicious. “You didn’t buy it, did you?”
I schooled the urge to smile. “Chick in 2E was walking in at the same time. She let me in.”
“Giullermo, that mutherfucker––”
“Look, I get that you’re mad at me––”
“Mad at you? Nah, man. I’m not mad, bro. I was just in the middle of making a wax figurine of you and sacrificing a chicken in your name. If your balls start to itch, you’ll know why––”
“I’m trying to fix this, damn it.” Teeth gritted, I forced out, “I’m trying to make amends if you would only give me a clue where she is. I’m begging you. I know I fucked up. I know I have and…I…I just need to try…please.”
He studied me for a minute. “She’s out of the country.” A begrudging admission.
I exhaled in relief. I was finally getting through to him. “Where?”
“Blackstone tried to buy a residential property in Singapore last year and got outbid by a Chinese quadrillionaire or some shit. He was impressed––she’s interviewing with him. She’s staying at the Ritz.”
I was running before he’d finished the sentence.
Sydney
Hitting the security keypad, I unlocked the front door and walked into my brand-new townhouse, heading straight for the kitchen. On the way, I walked past the painting I’d seen all those months ago––the grey female form floating in the midst of all that color. I bought it to remind myself not to settle for grey anymore, to let the color in even if the last attempt hadn’t gone so well.
Out of the refrigerator, I pulled out a bottle of Vitamin water and gulped it down as sweat dripped down my face and chest. Seven miles and it was hot as blazes today. The cell rang and Miller’s gorgeous face appeared.
“When are you guys coming out?” I asked as soon as I hit the accept button,
“First week in August…but that’s not why I’m calling.” I didn’t like the sound of his voice. He sounded guilty.
“Why am I getting a funny feeling in my gut?”
“No biggie. Just a little heads-up that your ex may be coming your way, and he may or may not be a little pissed.”
“You mean the man who’s not yet my ex because he refuses to sign the damn divorce papers? What did you do?”
“It’s all on him, Syd. He asked for it. He kept calling, wanting to know how to get a hold of you, and when I didn’t call him back he showed up at my apartment.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him you were in Singapore…and I may have made and canceled a reso at the Ritz in your name. Then I told him you were in Dubai. And I may or may not have made another reso under your name––”
“And he believed you?” I snorted.
“I was very convincing.” Pride in his voice.
“I’m sure you were…and?” I prodded, biting the inside of my cheek lest I encourage this behavior by laughing.
“And he just spent the last week traveling the globe like Anthony Bourdain without the food in search of you and when he called to threaten my existence, my husband’s existence, and my future children’s existence I felt compelled to tell him the truth.”
“Wise choice…how much time do I have.”
“If he flew private? A few hours at best.”
“Mama, I want cotton candy,” little Pete said to Laurel. With a face full of freckles, a tiny upturned nose, and spiky blond hair, little Pete was the carbon male copy of his mother.
“Finish your burger first.”
After Miller’s phone call, I jumped in the shower and got ready for my night out. Laurel and I had planned to attend the open-air Concert on the Commons. Ben Sparaco and the New Effects were playing, and nothing was going to stop me from enjoying the music. Not even the knowledge that I was going to come face-to-face with the man who had ripped out my heart and ate it with a side of fava beans and a nice Chianti.
On the plane ride over here––during which I spent intermittently crying my eyes out––I came to a difficult decision. Hope and Love does not reality make. So even though my love stood strong, my heart couldn’t stand to be knocked around