Her things are gone. Mira’s white carry-on is gone. There’s no straightener in the bathroom. Her toothbrush isn’t lying next to the sink.
Where is she? Why would she take her stuff and leave the hotel room?
Now I’m really freaking out. My hands shake as I plug my phone into the charger. It takes forever to boot up.
“Come on, come on.”
When the cursed thing finally turns on, it buzzes with several notifications. Missed calls and texts from Mira. A lot of them.
“Fuck!”
There are texts from before the meeting started, asking where I was. They start off calm and get progressively more worried in tone. Then the texts stop, and forty minutes later, there are two missed calls and a voicemail.
My stomach twists when I hear the tremble in my wife’s voice. “Griffin? Where are you? I’m done with my meeting. I… You weren’t here. Are you okay? Did something happen? How am I supposed to know where you are or if you’re okay if you don’t answer your phone? Just… Call me when you get this. Please be okay.”
Dammit.Dammit.
I’m tapping her name on my favorites list, without even consciously thinking about it, and curse when it goes straight to voicemail. Holding the phone between my cheek and my shoulder, I start to throw everything in my suitcase. Wherever Mira is, I have to find her.
“Baby, hey. I’m so fucking sorry I missed your pitch. I tried to call and text you, but I didn’t have any phone service. It was thecraziest thing, sunshine. I got trapped in an elevator for almost an hour.
“I’m at the hotel and all your stuff is gone. Where are you? Please call me back. I’m so so sorry, baby. I swear I did everything I could to get to you. Did the meeting go well, I hope?” I run a hand through my hair, agitated. “Please call me back. I love you.”
Hanging up, I text her, telling her the same thing I did in my voicemail. That I’m sorry I missed her meeting. That I was stuck in an elevator. That I love her and want to know where she is and if she’s okay.
Then I suck in a deep breath and make a call I really don’t want to make.
Maddox picks up on the first ring. I don’t even give him a chance to say anything before I ask, “Have you heard from your sister?”
Silence stretches down the line, and a prickle of unease makes the hair on my neck rise.
“Yeah, Wright. I’ve heard from my sister.” My best friend’s voice is colder than the ice we skate on when he says, “The fuck did you do?”
I have no idea what she told him, and right now I don’t care. Let him hate me, let him beat the shit out of me; it doesn’t matter. I need to know that my wife is okay. “Where is she, Madds? All her stuff is gone from the hotel. I just need to know where she is and if she’s safe.”
Maybe it’s the sheer panic in my voice, maybe he doesn’t know anything, or maybe he’s merely lulling me into a false sense of security before he buries a skate in my throat, but he doesn’t bullshit me. “She’s safe. Changed her flight to an earlier one. She’s on her way home.”
“Oh, thank god.”
“She was crying, Wright. Wouldn’t tell me what happened, but my little sister, who you were supposed to take care of, called me crying.”
My momentary relief burns away, and that panic claws at my chest once again. “I can’t get ahold of her. Please have her call me, man. I fucked up, but I couldn’t help it. I need to tell her what happened.”
Maddox scoffs. “You couldn’t help fucking up? I love you, man, but you need to do better than that. You own your mistakes when you make them. Whatever the hell you did—which I will find out when I pick my sister up—was a big enough screwup that she asked to stay with me and Isla.”
“No.” The word is a broken plea. I need to talk to her. Explain what happened.
All of this is a stupid misunderstanding. I won’t let Mira do the same thing her brother did when he overheard his future wife having a tense discussion with her ex, assumed the worst, and blew up his relationship without ever asking for Isla’s side of the story. I won’t let her walk away without talking to me.
“Please, man, you can’t let her do that. I need to talk to her first. She needs to hear what happened.”
Maddox, my best friend in the world, outside of Mira, scoffs. He fucking scoffs like what I’m saying is stupid. Like I’m stupid. “I’m not telling my sister that she can’t move in with me. She’s my sister, Wright. It’s my job to protect her and be there for her, and if you did something that made her want to move out, I’m sure as shit not telling her she has to stay with you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, pleading with him to believe me. “Seriously, Madds, this is all a misunderstanding.”
My friend sighs. “All I can do is tell her you want to talk to her. But I swear to god, Wright, if I don’t like what I hear when I pick her up from the airport, I’m going to kick your ass, best friend or not.”
My lungs seize up. I can’t breathe, can’t respond, can’t do anything but freak the hell out that everything I was planning, everything I had finally let myself hope for, is falling apart, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Mira’s engagement ring feels like a thousand pounds in my pocket. The lack of her belongings in the hotel room is a noose around my neck.
