“Thanks.” I had a feeling I’d be needing it.
I rushed past him and took all twelve flights two steps at a time. When I finally reached her door, I was gasping for air as I knocked.
My head fell back as I caught my breath and waited for it to open. It didn’t, so I knocked again. Still no answer.
I pulled out my phone and called her. It rang and then went to voicemail.
I knocked again and waited.
Nothing.
No one was home.
I walked back down the twelve flights of stairs, feeling deflated but not defeated. I was going to take my mom’s advice. I was going to tell Skye how I felt—that I loved her, that I wanted to be with her, to marry her—and that wouldn’t change when my life went back to ‘normal.’
She loved me; I knew she did. If I was wrong, then fine, I’d take the L. But if I was right and she did love me, I was going to be fearless and relentless. And that meant I had some shopping to do.
