I laid in bed, stiff and knowing I needed to move, but with everyone I knew gone, I had nowhere to go.
Which is why I was especially surprised to wake up to a missed call from an unknown number and a new voicemail.
Marshmallow curled up at my feet, I put the phone to my ear to listen and closed my eyes.
“Hey, Finn, it’s Aubrey. Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes. We’re in Pennsylvania at a rest stop letting Pixy get some air, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about everything you said. Chance means well, but he forgets what it’s like when you’re fighting for someone you’re not sure feels the same way. This road trip reminded me of that.”
My eyes flew open and I sat up.
“Chance and I had our share of ups and downs at the beginning, too. You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you all the things he did to win me back and prove how much he cared about me.”
Her light laughter filtered through the phone and then cut off quickly and her serious tone was back. “I don’t know how Adele feels about you, but I know she hasn’t seemed herself since she went to New York and now that I know what happened between you two, I can’t help but wonder if that isn’t part of it. She and Richard were in California for Christmas and she just seemed… off, not as happy as I expected for someone who’d just been engaged and moved to an awesome new city for adventure. She should have been telling us about all the amazing things she’s done since getting to New York and how much she loves it there. At least for a few more months before she realized she’s a California girl through and through. I’m rambling.”
“We should get to New York late tonight or tomorrow, but I couldn’t go another day without reaching out. Here’s her address. What you do with it is up to you.” She rattled off the address which I memorized by repeating over and over in my head while I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a pen and paper.
When I was satisfied I’d written it down correctly, I hung up and braced myself on the counter with both hands. Now what? She’d left the message late last night so maybe they were already there. Should I wait to hear from her again?
I shuffled through the rest of the morning like a zombie. Part of me wanted to run to Adele at Aubrey’s urging, but the other part was still considering Chance’s words. I didn’t know which was right.
I petted Marshmallow for five minutes straight while she ate up the attention and I talked out my predicament.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked. She looked at me and meowed, which I took to mean I should absolutely go to Adele.
I left out enough cat food and water for a month and sent an email to my agent to see if he could find someone to stop in and check on Marshmallow while I was gone. I had two days before I needed to be back. Theoretically she should be fine by herself, but I didn’t want her to be all alone.
“Wish me luck,” I said as I gave her one last pet.
I took the first flight to New York and checked into a hotel near her apartment. It was almost ten o’clock at night when the cab pulled up outside her place. I didn’t have a plan, but I needed to be near her. Even if there was six floors and a brick wall between us.
I couldn’t get into the building, but I wasn’t ready to confront her either. I just wanted to see her first. If I saw her and she looked happy, there was still time to tuck tail and go back home.
I shivered, cursing myself for not bringing warmer clothes. It might have been Spring in California, but it still felt like Winter after sundown in New York.
Crossing the street, I went into a diner that smelled of grease and burnt coffee. I took a seat near the window and stared out at her building like it had all the answers.
“Good evening, handsome, can I get you something to drink?” a woman with jet black hair and icy blue eyes asked from the edge of the booth. She was early forties by my best guess, attractive, and totally working the little fifties style waitress outfit she was wearing. The nametag read Flo.
“Just coffee, Flo.”
She smirked. “We’ve got fresh cinnamon rolls.”
My stomach growled. Had I eaten today?
“Sure, bring me one of those.”
She nodded, a pleased smile on her red painted lips.
“Actually, bring me two. No, three.”
Laughing, she rolled away on her skates. Yeah, roller skates. It was a little shot of nostalgia, not that I’d been alive in the fifties, but I’d seen Hilary Duff in that Cinderella movie as a kid, and Flo was a fiery version of that.
I stared across the street at the apartment building. People came and went every few minutes, but no sight of Adele or the boyfriend, I mean fiancé. Chance and the family had probably made it by now, too so I really had no business lurking around. I just needed a glimpse.
“Here you go.” Flo put the mug of coffee in front of me. “Creamer and sugar on the table.”
“Thanks.” I took a sip as it was and glanced out the window again.
I don’t know how long I looked out into the mostly dark street before the smell of cinnamon and sugar made my mouth water. Flo placed a plate with three giant cinnamon rolls in front of me.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“Wet wipes and a second stomach.”
“I think you can handle it,” she said with a snort and rolled off to another table.
She was back about the time I was finishing the second and pushing the plate away. Flo slid into the booth across from me.
“Tell me, should I be concerned that you’ve done nothing but stare out the window to the apartment building across the street?” She lifted a dark brow and pursed her lips. “Are you some sort of international spy?”
“Do I look like an international spy?” I said as I sat back in the booth and rested an arm casually on the table.
“I don’t know. I’ve never met one. You look a little Bond meets Bourne.”
“I think you’re as likely to be a spy as I am, Flo.”
She tilted her head back and laughed. “I like you.” She stood and skated over to the counter, picked up a folded newspaper, and brought it back to the table. “Here. At least try to make it look like you’re a regular customer.”
I glanced around to the other patrons. The people who were alone all had something to occupy them. A woman with a Kindle, a guy with a laptop, another with a paper. I picked up the paper. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually read one. “Thanks.”
Unfolding and opening it, I bypassed local and world news for the Sports section. Then I flipped and stumbled upon a heading that made my heart skip a fucking beat. In Love with an Almost Married Man.
I kept reading. It was some sort of advice column.
Dear Ida,
I’m in love with my engaged coworker. We’ve been working together for almost a year and have become friends. We spend late nights at the office together, we even text about non-work-related things on the weekends. I think he might be interested in me too, but I’m afraid to make a move and ruin our friendship. Should I tell him how I feel before it’s too late?
The Other Woman
Ida’s advice was about what you’d expect. TLDR: don’t make a move and stuff those feelings deep inside. I didn’t like that answer. I considered writing Ida myself to let her know what I thought of her crappy advice. How could you expect someone to make a decision on forever without all the information?