I don’t regret coming here though. If August hadn’t propositioned me, I wouldn’t have gotten as close to him as I have. That being said, I was very close to tackling him to the ground in the storage unit and attempting to have my way after seeing those biceps move a piano the size of a small building, effortlessly.
I won’t be sad to leave this place, put it that way. I’ve enjoyed the million thread count cotton sheets and the Michelin starred food, of course, but I haven’t enjoyed the lecherous looks from husbands who don’t care what their wives think, nor the undercurrent of shady negotiation that throbs around every corner like morse code.
A warmth softens me. As much as I wouldn’t ever want to come back here, I can’t hate this place. It brought me and Augusto closer. It has taught me how to trust another man, way sooner than I thought possible. The feelings I’ve developed for Augusto in the short time we’ve been at this retreat have made me wonder if what I had with Gerard was even real.
It’s also opened me up to the possibility that perhaps I was never meant to be the white picket fence, yoga pant-wearing housewife I’d molded myself into. Maybe I’ve always had more depth, more darkness, more stuff that simply isn’t straightforward or at least straight out of aMartha Stewartcommercial.
I step out of the shower and towel off, then, dressed in a fluffy Winter Pines bathrobe, I re-enter the suite and locate my phone.
Damn it. In the midst of the interrogations and investigations, I didn’t think to recharge it. Even stabbing a finger at the screen doesn’t help.
I connect the cable and watch it slowly plod back to life like a bear reluctantly waking from hibernation. Next time Paige implores me to upgrade my phone to one that was built within the last decade, I need tolisten.
After a short lifetime, a series of notifications pop up—one after another, after another… Missed calls from Mallorie, a text message from Paige, a voicemail from my mother.
I go straight to Paige’s message.
“Mom, please don’t hate me. I just have to see him. I’ll call when I get there.”
Get where? Why would I hate her? And who’s ‘him’? Does she mean Killian? Where is she going? She’s only fourteen and she doesn’t know New York…
I try calling her but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Paige…” My heart is racing but I need to stay calm. “Can you call me please? Now? I’m worried. I don’t hate you—I could never hate you. Just please tell me what’s going on.”
I hang up and call Mom and to my surprise she answers straight away.
“Erin! I’ve been trying to get hold of you but it keeps going through to?—”
“Mom, where’s Paige?” I rush out.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She’s gone.”
I didn’t think it was possible for my entire world to explode inside my chest, but I was wrong. “Gone where?”
“Back to L.A. I told you in the voicemail.”
“What do you mean she’s gone back to L.A.? How? She doesn’t have a ticket, she doesn’t have money… She doesn’t even know how to get to the airport…”
“Gerard bought the airplane tickets and sent a cab.”
I swear my heart has actually stopped beating. “He what?”
“She talked to him, like you said. She mentioned what had happened with Killian and Gerard just told her to come back. I told her to wait until you were home and she said she would, but then… I went to check on her before I went to bed and she’d gone.”
“She left last night?”
“Yes. I called you straight away, but your phone?—”
“Do you know which flight she’s on?”
“No. She left a note saying she was sorry and she’d see us both again soon, but nothing else. Mallorie’s been calling all the airlines but no one has a reservation under the name Gerard or Paige Applebaum.”
The room tilts.
“Mallorie? Is she there?”
“I’ll put her on.”
