by Lexy Timms
Okay, I don’t do that so much anymore, she consoled herself. I did at first, but when Claire saw me running through her yard that time I realized it wasn’t professional.
At heart, though, she was still a runner. She was definitely too high-stress to be a good match for Cayden. Not to mention her flare-ups were triggered by stress. Other things too, of course, but stress was her biggest problem. Even after all this time since her diagnosis and testing medicines and weeding out trigger foods, she was still stressed most of the time—to the point that it felt normal.
I wasn’t stressed a few months ago, she countered the negative voices in her head. That was a great—
She stopped. It was true: earlier this year, for a period of a few months she had been significantly less stressed. She could count on one hand the number of times she had shown symptoms of a flare-up. Just as she wondered why, the reason smacked her in the gut.
During those few months of so little stress, she had been with Cayden.
Shaking her head to snap out of it she leapt into the room to check her phone, which was dead. She cursed loudly, desperately hoping the walls were soundproof, and scrambled through her bag to find the external battery. Naturally, it was at the very bottom. Untying her charging cord at lightning speed, she shoved it into a power outlet and pressed the “on” button so many times she was scared she would break it. The only response it gave was a “Phone will turn on at 5%” message.
“It’s okay,” she told herself, returning to the bathroom. “He just said it was 8:30 before he left. I’ve got about half an hour. Easy.” Wishing her phone was alive enough to turn on some music she hummed to herself as she slapped on some makeup, tried to do a decent job with her eyeliner, and laid her outfit on the bed.
First time wearing these, she nodded at her choices. Black with gold jewelry works great any day. Dress for the job you want, right? Millionaire personal organizer? Yes, please. Pulling on the shirt, she looked in the big wall mirror at how it hugged her in all the right places. It had been a more expensive buy, but it made her look like she had her curves back.
Ah, the pre-Crohn’s days, she sighed. The days she had a body that was far less frail. It had been a struggle, adjusting to the new way of life that changed her appearance more than she liked. Either way, she was in a much better place health-wise now. She turned sideways and backwards, admiring her shirt from all angles. You look great, body. Especially in this top. That seam at the waist is working wonders!
A little noise from her phone perked up her ears. It’s about time you were turning on, she thought at it, pulling on her pants. The sounds that followed were unexpected, however; this early in the morning, she usually only had a couple of beeps from texts she had missed. Her phone was letting through what sounded like at least twenty text messages and a few phone calls.
“What the heck?” she muttered, suddenly worried that Katharina had been trying to reach her. Please don’t let it be a schedule change I missed. Please don’t...
She unlocked her phone and was met with an inbox full of unread messages from the last person she would have expected: Andrew’s parents.
Call us, please.
Are you okay?
Tried to call you several times.
We’re with him, it’s okay.
The air in her hotel room suddenly turned to sludge. It took all her strength to scroll down the message thread to find the first one, but they all seemed disjointed and she couldn’t make sense of the urgency.
She opened voicemail to find three from Andrew’s mom, Frances.
“Lillian, Andrew was just in an accident on his way to work. The hospital just called. We thought you should know.”
Her guts felt like they were being pulled out of her body. She played the second voicemail.
“Lillian, we’re at St. Therese hospital here if you can make it.”
She sank to the ground at the mention of the hospital—the same one Amelia had been rushed to after her accident. The same one Amelia never walked out of. Amelia, his sister and the closest thing to family she’d ever had.
“Lillian, we don’t know what’s going to happen. If you can make it over, I’m positive that Andrew would know you were here.” The last message ended with a whimper, then cut off.
She looked at her hands holding the phone and saw them shaking so hard they were blurry.
He won’t die. She repeated it ten times. He can’t die. I was just texting him yesterday. Was that yesterday? He won’t die. Oh shit, I have to get to the hospital. I’m coming, Andrew. I’m coming.
Operating on autopilot now, she found herself calling Katharina.
“Hi, darling, are you here? You’re early.”
“Katharina,” she said, forcing herself to take a breath.
At the sound of her panicked voice, Katharina knew instantly something was going on. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“I need you to book me a flight for right now.” The words felt foreign as her lips and tongue shaped the sounds.
“Did something happen?”
“My...brother. My brother. There was an—I need to go.”
“Oh, Lillian. Of course, I can arrange it. Which airport?”
She had to wrack her brain for the city Andrew lived in. “Rodney. They live in Rodney. It’s only a few hours away from where I live.”
“Got it,” Katharina said slowly. “I’ll call you back, dear. Keep your phone with you.”
Unable to speak, Lillian dropped her hands into her lap and stared at the wall. Her heart felt like it was about to pound through her ribcage and burst into the room. She hugged her knees, rocking back and forth. Her stomach felt hot.
No flare-ups right now, please, she begged.
The phone rang. Lillian put it on speaker.
“I’ve called my agent. You have a flight in two hours. I sent the ticket to your email; it should be there now. A car is coming for you now. I’ll take care of your hotel and check you out.”
“Can I get through the airport that fast?”
“If you hurry, it won’t be a problem. Get your stuff ready; the car will be there in a few minutes. Meet him out front. It’s the same driver as yesterday.”
“I don’t know if I can make it,” Lillian blurted.
“You can make it, just hurry.”
“I’m not talking about the flight.” She felt bile rise in her throat.
“Oh.” Katharina paused. “You’re going to be fine. Don’t think about anything right now except getting on that plane. One step at a time.”
“I can’t think.”
“Don’t think about anything. Not even your brother. Just the plane. Do you hear me?”
She nodded, not understanding that Katharina couldn’t see.
“Go get your things and call me in a few days when things are better, okay? I have a lot of work for you to do here. I gave your contact info to a few people today.”
“I...” Lillian looked around, overwhelmed at her small amount of luggage. “I have to go, I think.”
“Yes. Go, now. Talk soon.”
Dazed, Lillian pressed the end button and unsteadily rose to her feet. She was sure the room had suddenly been put on a rotating platform; every step was like trying to walk on a balance beam.
Andrew, don’t go.
I’m coming.
Stay there.
No, Lillian, not Andrew. Just the plane. Your one goal right now is to get on that damn plane.
She thought of the plane so fiercely she regained her footing enough to run around the room, shoving her few possessions into her bags. Not bothering to take a last look and make sure she got everything, she slung the bags over her shoulders and bolted down the hallway.
It was the longest elevator ride she had ever taken, but she found herself bursting through the front doors of the hotel. A suited driver stood in front of the same SUV she had ridden in yesterday.
“Miss Warren?”
She nodded.
He took her b
ags and opened the back door for her. “Let’s get you to the airport.”
Trees and buildings and cars went by unnoticed. The whole way she stared out the window, not allowing herself to think of anything except the steps she would need to take as soon as she arrived.
Thank the driver. Run inside. Go to check in. Through security. To the gate. Board the plane.
It all happened in a blur. The car stopped; she barely noticed until the driver opened the door, her bags hanging off one of his tree-trunk arms.
“Thank you,” she felt herself saying, took the bags, and suddenly was in front of endless rows of check-in counters. She showed someone her phone. They pointed; she walked, footstep after quick footstep. Waited in the dwindling line. Handed her ID to the lady. Ticket in hand she floated through security, laser-focused on the plane.
I’m almost there.
Then she was there, and people were already boarding the plane. She stood with them, steadily moving forward.
He loved me. Loves me. He’s still here. He’s not gone. Love in the present tense. Their conversation from before, when Andrew had confessed he had feelings for her, came flooding back. I should have said yes. She knew it was drastic, but at the thought of losing him when the wounds from Amelia’s death weren’t fully healed yet—it was unbearable.
I should have called him every day. I shouldn’t have waited over a year before calling him. She handed her ticket to another woman and started down to the plane. I should’ve told him everything. Why didn’t I tell him everything? He deserved to know.
She piled her bags in the overhead compartment and tensely lowered herself into her seat, every muscle braced for emotional impact. I should’ve called him yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.
But she had been with Cayden.
Cayden. The plane was moving, but she pulled up a new message to him. He had wanted to take her to a café tonight. She needed to text him.
I had to go. Andrew was in an accident. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I get there.
A rush of energy overcame her body at the same time her mind was shutting down. She knew she was having a full-blown panic attack right now but in survival mode—for the time being, at least. She could break when she got to the hospital with Andrew’s parents, the two people who had essentially adopted her a long time ago and loved her like they loved their own two children.
Putting her phone on airplane mode, she bounced her leg to relieve some of the adrenaline surge. Thank goodness, she was near the front. She would be one of the first to get off.
I’m coming, Andrew, she thought hard, trying to get the message through to his probably-unconscious body. I’m coming for you. Stay there. I’m on my way.
Chapter 10
Cayden popped his neck and looked at his phone. Finally, he thought. It seemed like five o’clock had taken a year to reach. Today had been an extra-long one. This morning he had a workout with another client—one of the ones he accepted purely to give him something to do a couple of times a week—and then he had a gap for several hours until a meeting with Janine. The reality of Cayden leaving—her beloved Cayden, the most amazing trainer in the universe—had separation anxiety seeming to kick in.
“I just want to double-check that everything is squared away for the new trainer,” she had said on the phone earlier. She had yet to call Cayden’s replacement by his name. Whether she had forgotten or just didn’t want to make it all real, he didn’t know. “You know, all the details, make sure there are no schedule conflicts, all that jazz.”
“I swear it’s all right,” Cayden had reassured her for the umpteenth time.
“I know, I know. I trust you, Cayden, but I still want to make sure. Come at three, before our workout. I’ll make smoothies.”
That sealed the deal. Janine’s smoothies—with extra vegan protein powder in his, of course—were to die for, and honestly they were one of the only things about Los Angeles (and Janine) he would miss.
So, at three that afternoon, he peeled himself from the couch in his little studio attached to Janine’s massive house and knocked on her side door. As soon as she opened the door, she began drilling him with questions—so many useless questions they had already discussed a hundred times. Cayden knew full well she just wanted to spend time with him. He was flattered, but also a little bit annoyed that an entire hour before their usual workout was spent like this. For most of the time while Janine was rambling as she washed vegetables and bustled around the kitchen, Cayden lost himself in thoughts about taking Lillian to the café that night.
I should buy some flowers for her. The idea brought up a good mental image, but he quickly decided it might be too much. They weren’t together, after all, or they weren’t as far as he knew. Maybe just one flower.
At last they made their way to Janine’s personal gym room, and the sight of all her state-of-the-art equipment woke him up. Typically, he focused more on her during the workouts, but today he decided to switch things up and join her for some of the time. He had to look good for later, of course. Nothing like freshly worked- out muscles to woo the woman he so badly wanted.
Janine was obviously thrilled to be doing some reps with Cayden, and he found it funny when her competitive side rose to the surface. He played along, even though he was literally three times as strong as she was. The workout passed in no time, and he was left wishing he had sweated a little more.
Exhausted, Janine started to get in a complaining mood again about Cayden leaving, so he quickly let her know that he had an engagement. Before she could get too inquisitive, he told her goodbye and ran up the steps two at a time to his studio for a shower.
Before hopping in, he checked his phone. There was still no text from Lillian.
They should be done by now, he thought, tossing his phone onto the bed and stepping into the shower’s cool stream. Oh, well. I’ll just head over to the hotel and surprise her. Janine won’t mind if I pick one of her flowers. Her peace lilies could practically be braided, they’re so wild. I’ll cut one of those.
And he did, all the while thinking humorously that if he ever needed a career change he could always contact Janine about being her personal gardener.
As obsessively as he had checked the cameras on his house before, he checked his phone now, waiting on tenterhooks for any message from her. She did have a habit of running late so he wasn’t too worried, but not even getting a simple text did feel weird. He booked a car to her hotel anyway, devising a plan to make her feel like royalty before she flew back home.
I’m going to make this one of the best freaking nights of her life. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Lillian being so enamored by the great night they were going to have, that she wouldn’t be able to keep him away any longer. She would beg him to move back home, or to move here to Los Angeles with him. Yeah, he thought, sauntering into the fancy marble-floored lobby of her hotel. It’s going to happen. Tonight’s the night.
He looked around quickly, scanning the huge space for her just in case she was waiting, but there was no sign of her. Good. I can continue with the plan. He walked up to the front desk.
“Hi there,” he greeted one of the clerks with a white-toothed beam.
“Hello,” replied the woman, a little awkwardly. “Do you have a reservation?”
I probably should have started with that, he realized. “My, uh—I’m here to pick someone up.”
Still slightly confused, but with a steady smile, she asked, “Would you like me to call them for you?”
“Sure. I’d love that. She’s in room 302.” His smile broadened again. She’s going to love this!
The woman pressed a few keys on the keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen. “All right, just a minute...here we go.” She stopped, looking intently at something.
“What is it?” Cayden asked.
“Sir, what’s your name?”
“Manos. Cayden Manos.”
“Excellent. Mr. Manos, it looks like Mis
s Stewart hasn’t arrived yet. Her check-in date is tomorrow.”
Cayden paused, trying to put all this together like a puzzle. “Miss Stewart?”
“Yes, in room 302?”
“Um...” His face fell and he put an arm on the counter, thinking hard. That’s not Katharina’s name or Lillian’s. “The woman I’m looking for is named Lillian Warren. Maybe the room was reserved under a different name, I’m not sure.”
“Let me look,” the clerk said cheerfully, typing some more. “Ah, I have here a Lillian Warren in room 302.”
“Yes, that’s her.” Phew!
“It appears she checked out today.”
In an instant, his world came crashing down. Even the lily in his hand seemed to wilt until its bloom faced the marble floors. “Checked out?” His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears.
“Yes. Around 9:30 this morning.”
“9:30?” That’s right after I left.
The woman looked at the screen again. “Yes, our system shows that it was around that time.”
Confounded, Cayden stumbled over his words. “Do you know where she went?”
“No, Mr. Manos. We don’t keep records of that since it’s personal information.”
What’s happening? In a daze, he thanked the woman and trudged to one of the leather couches in the middle of the lobby, not feeling bad about plopping himself down in the middle of the only empty one. Pulling his phone out, he checked every app installed to make sure a message from her hadn’t got lost.
But there was nothing.
She wouldn’t have checked out early to avoid me, he told himself firmly. She’s not like that. Even if there was some beef, or if we had an argument like last time, she wouldn’t have just up and left without warning.
