Rather than trying to find the elevator — if there even is one — I take the stairs. Of course, her door is the one with the rainbow door mat and a cute collection of fall decorations — a wreath, a gnome, and a garland of leaves climbing up and down the sides of the door frame.
When I knock, it’s with my heart in my throat. I shift from foot to foot, take off my hat, then put it back on. I knock once more.
It occurs to me that her roommate could answer, but after ten minutes, I’m pretty sure that neither of them is home.
I look up and down the hallway, back at her door, then let out a sigh and sink to the floor, settling back against the wall.
Maybe Lola will tell me that she wants nothing to do with me. But I’m not leaving here until I at least get to tell her I’m sorry, and that I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.
CHAPTER 27
LOLA
It would be dramatic to say that I cried all the way down from the mountain, but it would also be true. I had to pull over several times from how hard the tears came, surprising me with their frequency and intensity.
“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Maisie says when I call her and tell her about what I saw. After hours of waiting for him, I had plenty of time to come up with a theory.
Rowan had mentioned in passing that this was his second cabin out in the mountains, and my assumption is that he’s going to find a different place — even more remote, even harder to find — and I’m never going to see him again.
Maisie goes on, “At least you can say you tried.”
“Yeah,” I return lamely, my voice embarrassingly hoarse.
“Listen, I’m not going to be home tonight,” Maisie says, and there’s a sound through my car speakers like her shifting the phone from one shoulder to another. “But when I get back in the morning, we’re going out to Sunrise Cafe. No arguing with me on that.”
“Okay.” I sniffle, already thinking of the crepes I’ll bury myself in to feel better. If that’s even possible.
I’d deluded myself into thinking my life could be like a rom-com. That I could drive up into the mountains and make — if not a declaration of love — a declaration of… interest.
As I drive, I feel stupid for making that video. For thinking that I could make some big, declarative statement about life and love and what it means to be human. Me, who can’t even manage to have a successful romantic moment.
If I could make a video about this, it would be an hour of raw, unedited crying in the driver’s seat, numbly listening to the motivation playlist that still bops around the speakers.
The music cuts off with a call coming through the speakers, and I hit the button to answer, thinking it’s Maisie again.
But it’s not Maisie’s voice that comes through the speakers.
“Karolina, darling!”
I know, instantly, from the use of my full — shudder — government name, and from the tenor and pitch of the voice, that it’s my mother on the other end of the line.
My entire body freezes, and I pull to the side of the road preemptively, knowing that now that I’ve picked up, I won’t be able to hang up on her.
And there’s no way I can have a conversation with my mother while driving.
“Hey… Mom.”
“I’ve been calling you forweeks!” she says, sounding breathless, and I wonder if she’s on the Peloton. A memory flashes tomy mind of her sticking the bike in my father’s old study, encouraging me to use it even though I felt sick just walking into that room. “You must be so busy, but we have been, too. The firm is absolutely running Jarred ragged.”
I bring my hand to my mouth, feeling sick.
“That’s too bad,” I say, and if she notices how muffled the words come out, she doesn’t mention it.
“Well, anyway, I know you’ll make some room to meet with Darlie. I’m worried about her, all the way out there on her own. I’ve made a reservation for the two of you at Salon C downtown. It came highly recommended on the internet. Of course, I’ll pay. I think it would be good for her to get out with a girlfriend. You know how hard it is to head off for school like that.”
I close my eyes, my hand gripping the phone so tightly I can picture my knuckles turning white.
With a few simple sentences, my mother has managed so much. Reminding me of the name she gave her eldest daughter in her new family.Darling. The name she called me when I was younger. Being worried about Darlie coming out here for school, even though she didn’t give a shit when it wasmemoving out here on my own.
