“Would you be interested in training new recruits out here, to get the Munich site off the ground?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I love this motherfucker.He doesn’t even ask about the details—he’s ready to go.Always has been.
We talk out some of my ideas, and he has a few to share as well.I offer to arrange an apartment for him, but he shuts me down.
“Nah, I’ll get it figured out.Just tell me when?—”
My phone rings with another call.I check the ID—Margaret Chung Medical Center.
“Fletch, I gotta go.I’ll call you later.”Before he has a chance to respond, I switch to the other call.“Hello?”
“Is this Seth Colton?”a polished voice asks on the other end of the line.
“Yes.”
“I’m calling on behalf of Damiano Romano.He listed you as an emergency contact?—”
My gut goes cold and empty.“What happened?”
“He was in a car accident half an hour ago.He’s undergoing some tests.”
Shit.“Is he conscious?Does he need anything?”
“He’s in an out of consciousness.If you could come to the hospital in case any decisions have to be made for his care…”
“I’m overseas, but I’ll take the first plane back to California.Please keep me updated.”
“I will, Mr.Colton.See you soon.”
“Soon” will be about fourteen hours, but I’ll do what I can.
* * *
MADISON
On Tuesday, I wake up and stretch.It’s been weird, not having to go to work.Work provided some structure to my days, even if that structure was sometimes chaotic.Now, I’m left to find my own daily rhythm.It turns out, I like to stay up until eleven or midnight, and then get up around seven.
My heart aches, though.Damiano can’t call or text me anymore—I blocked him.But at the most random moments, he pops into my head.I keep wanting to tell him about my weird cousin mowing my lawnagainor about how the latest season ofFlesh and Teethmore than makes up for the lackluster Season Two that he gave up on.I find the purple paisley scarf he gave me for the drive to Mirarosa, and I want to ask him if he bought it in Italy.
Loneliness.My old, cruel companion.That’s all this is.
I need friends.I’ve had contact with the outside world twice since I came home Friday night.The first was an email from Marguerite Fenton with financial planning questions.The second was my neighbor, Matthew, looking through the hedge when I went to gather oranges for a smoothie yesterday.When I called out “hello,” he gave me the least excited wave I’ve ever seen.
He helped that night, when Derick and Crane attacked me.I never properly thanked him—maybe that’s the issue.I should bake cookies for him and his wife.
My phone shows a text from Seth.My heart gives a little pitter-patter of excitement before I shut it down.Seth has made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me.
The message is cryptic, though—two words.Call me.
I’m curious, but not that curious.I pop my phone in my pocket and do my usual morning routine.Smoothie, shower, and then a trip to the library down the hall to decipher another one of the letters in Vivienne’s desk.
The morning light is muted today because it’s overcast.I snag a blanket from the linen closet and wrap it around myself before settling into the desk chair.
Dearest V?—
I don’t know when I’ll be able to come to you.They say the borders might open, but I believe these are rumors borne of hope and desperation, not actual truth.
