Almost instantaneously, my phone beeps back with a message.
But it’s not from Blakely, but rather a friend I haven’t talked to in a while.
I swipe open the message and read it.
Remi:Hey, gorgeous. I’m in town. Are you free for dinner this week?
I read the message a few times and feel a sense of . . . nostalgia pass through me. Maybe it’s because I’m in such a dark place right now, but before I can stop myself, I text him back.
Penny:Hey you, I’d love to see you. Just let me know when and where.
Remi:Perfect. Tomorrow night, I’ll come pick you up. Send me your address.
Absentmindedly, I text him back, and then on a deep, satisfied breath, I set my phone down. It will be good to see an old friend, maybe get me out of this rut that I’m in.At least it will get me out of this perfectly decorated apartment.
Drumming my fingers again, I turn toward the kitchen. “What next?”
I spend the next half hour taking all the throw pillows apart so they’re just the filler pillow rather than the pretty sham. I move his phone charger into the fridge because it felt right, and I take one of his shoes and repot a succulent in it and set it at the window. I take another picture and send it to Blakely, telling her I might be onto something with the succulent shoe. Eli walks through the door just as I’m about to rearrange the coat closet by turning it into a mini rave space, disco ball included.
“Hey, babe,” he says when he spots me halfway in the closet, halfway out. He places his hand on my back and kisses my cheek. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I slam the closet door and fold my arms together. “Why do you ask?”
He eyes the closet and then me. “Just wondering. Why, are you trying to hide something?”
“What would I hide?”
“I don’t know. You just slammed that door pretty quickly, as if you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything, Eli.”
“Then why did you slam the door?”
I laugh maniacally as if I can’t even believe what he’s saying. “Me? Slam the door? Maybe you walked into this apartment so fast your breeze from opening the door actually slammed the door. Ever think about that?”
“What are you hiding in there?” he asks, growing more irritated.
“Nothing.”
He tries to open the door, but I swat at his hand. “Don’t you dare go in there.”
“Penny, I’m not fucking around anymore. What’s in there . . . or who’s in there?”
“Who?” I shout, my eyes widening. “Are you really asking if there’s a who in there?”
“You’re acting like a who is in there.” He gestures to the door.
“You’re making me act like there’s a who in there.”
He grips his hair, tugging on the strands. “Who the fuck is in there?”
“No one!” I shout.
“Then open the goddamn door and show me.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m going to do it myself.”
