Scandalized(74)

I shower until I’m loose and drowsy, dry off adequately, and pull on sweats and a tank top before falling backward onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Pointedly ignoring the blue shopping bag. I’m not ready to see my things and remember how they looked in his hotel suite.

From beyond my closed bedroom door, I can hear Eden quietly moving around the apartment. Making coffee. Unloading the dishwasher. Taking out the trash and recycling. Her presence is sweetly reassuring. With a groan, I roll myself up in my blankets, squeezing my eyes closed.

But suddenly, I am wide awake. There is a ticking bomb in here with me. I open my eyes and stare across the room at the bag.

Read what I wrote.

Whatever else is in there, there is a note.

I should not read it with tired eyes, an exhausted brain. I should not read it feeling as emotional as I do.

I know better, but kick away the blankets anyway, get up, and cross the room.

Inside the bag is my ugly Post Malone hat, the game console Alec bought for us only a week ago. But not everything in here is something I forgot at the suite. There’s a small box of fresh doughnuts. An expensive bottle of Zinfandel.

Alec’s dress shirt that I wore when I tied his bow tie.

I bite my lips, holding in the pained gasp as I curl it into my chest, inhaling.

The last item, at the bottom of the bag, is a postcard with a beautiful picture of Laguna Beach. On the blank side, Alec has written only a handful of words.

Gigi,

I know you are upset.

But please answer my calls.

—A



His calls?

My heart drops and a frantic, heavy bolus of adrenaline hits my bloodstream. He never had my other number.

I meant what are you doing in LA.

I couldn’t, he’d said. I had to—

Oh God. No.

You could have talked to me, I’d said.

His expression, so controlled. You’re right. I could have.

The way he reacted like he’d been pushed when I told him I’d left the Batphone here. How he quietly told me I was making assumptions about why I’d found him on my doorstep.

I trip into the bathroom, falling to my knees and checking the trash.

Eden cleaned everything. There’s nothing but a fresh bag there.

A sob rips from me but when I stand, I see the Post-it note on the bowl of the sink:

I turned it off, but it’s in your nightstand. If you throw it away again, I promise to leave it there. —E.



With shaking hands, I move to the bedroom, pull the Batphone out of the drawer. In the time it takes to turn on, I force myself to pull in deep, intentional breaths so I don’t panic. The screen comes to life.

Nothing.

Nothing.

There’s nothing.

I turn, sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed, struggling against the throat-swelling sting of disappointed tears.

And then my phone buzzes in my palm. With blurry eyes, I look down at a screen that is lit up with dozens of notifications. Missed calls. Voicemails.

I check the time stamps. Barely two hours after he called and told me to “please take care,” Alec called me back.

And then again.

And again.

And again.

His calls span Friday afternoon and deep into the night. They start up again before sunrise on Saturday.

Fourteen missed calls in total, all while I was at my parents’ house, assuming he was on a plane, assuming he had prioritized everything above me. His first voicemail is seven seconds long. “Gigi. Please call me back. I’ve changed my plans and am not flying home until Sunday.”

Twelve more missed calls and then his second, and final, voicemail, from late in the afternoon on Saturday. It’s just over a minute long.

“Gigi.” He pauses, exhaling slowly. “Right. I don’t know why I keep calling when you haven’t answered any of the other times. But I heard earlier today that you lost your job and am gutted. Here I am, in the thick of this stupid internet hurricane and yet I’m at an absolute standstill. Since you won’t answer, here is what I wanted you to know. I’d planned to fly home to Sunny to discuss how to handle this. But I tried to leave and absolutely could not get on the plane without you. I kept hearing your voice on the phone, telling me over and over that you didn’t understand. It was all a blur, but I must have been cold to you.” His words break, his voice cracking. “After everything—to be accused… well. I was in shock.” He breaks off again, huffing out another breath. “Anyway, so here I am, wandering LA, doing absolutely nothing, letting this problem fester. Retracing our steps the past two weeks and wondering how on earth it is that I could fall in love in a matter of days. But I did. In fact, I think I fell in love in a matter of minutes, with the woman sitting opposite me at a hotel bar. She was exhausted but mesmerizing, wearing a red dress and nothing else.” He goes silent for a beat. “Gigi, I can’t let the present circumstances rob us of the chance to see where this can go.” I hear him swallow and then pull in a shaky breath. “I suppose I’ll call you again when I get to London. I hope you’ll answer.”

I cup a hand over my mouth, capturing the sob that escapes. I could have been with him this weekend. We could have been weathering this storm together. Regret sends a staggering wave of nausea through my gut, and I have to close my eyes, tilt my face to the ceiling and suck in air.