KATE

I sit at the window seat and stare out over the road as the rain comes down.

Even the weather is miserable. Like a dark heavy blanket of sadness.

I glance at my watch, Elliot will be in France now.

I get a vision of the two of them sitting in a romantic location, staring into each other’s eyes.

I’m in a literal hell.

“Is everything alright with your meal, ma’am?” the waiter interrupts me.

“Oh.” I look down to see my untouched cold dinner. “Yes, I’m sorry . . . I’m . . .” I pick up my fork. “A little distracted.”

“Perhaps some wine?” The waiter smiles hopefully.

“Yes.” I nod. “That would be lovely.”

He raises his eyebrow as he waits for something.

“What is it?” I ask.

“What wine would you like?”

“Oh.” I shake my head, embarrassed. “Surprise me.”

“Very well.” He disappears into the kitchen and I take a forkful of pasta into my mouth.

Ugh, my stomach rolls and I clench my teeth to stop the gag reflex.

I make myself swallow; food is the very last thing I can handle tonight.

I don’t even want to go home to my roommates, because then I have to pretend that everything is okay . . . or tell another lie, or worse still, tell them the sordid truth.

Neither of the tasks I feel capable of while I’m this weak.

I’ll just wait until everyone goes to bed, it’s easier that way.

It’s 9 p.m. and . . . in a few hours, I will know.

Elliot will either call me . . . or he won’t.

I know he will . . . he loves me, I know he does and I believe in us. He will call me.

He has to.

I’m not in this alone. I haven’t imagined this entire thing. We do have something real.

I know we do.

I can’t be this gullible.

I force another mouthful in and my stomach rolls and I heave.

I think I’m going to throw up.

One a.m.

I walk up my street toward my house in the rain. With two bottles of wine under my belt, I should be happy.

What I am is . . . devastated.

He’s with her.

I take out my phone and check it for the ten thousandth time tonight.

“Call me,” I whisper angrily. “You fucking call me, goddamn it.”

I screw up my face in tears. Why is this happening? What on earth did I ever do to deserve such fucking shit in my life? I lost my parents, my sister is the devil, and now the man that I love . . . doesn’t even love me back.

“Why?” I cry out loud. “What have I done to deserve this?”

I get to my apartment and I can’t face going inside, because then I have to sleep.

And then it will be morning, and too late to go back on what happened last night.

And I will know what he did.

I get a vision of Elliot and her waking up in bed and him being all witty and charming and wowing her with his sexuality and her falling madly in love with him.

How could she not?

There’s a lot to love about Elliot Miles.

I drop to sit on the bottom step and I stare into space. And as the rain comes down on top of me, wet, afraid, and alone . . . I cry.

It’s the silence that kills you. The things that aren’t said.

The closure you never got.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours. Four thousand, three hundred, and twenty minutes.

Too many seconds to count.

The clock ticks in my office. It’s like a megaphone, loud and annoying, reminding me of how time’s going by . . . with not a word.

Not even a text.

He’s with her.

I know that now, but that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

I really thought he loved me.

My faith in humanity is smashed to smithereens.

Did he even care about me at all? He couldn’t have . . . nobody could treat someone that they care about like this. The joke of it is that he doesn’t even know that I know what he’s doing in France.

Was that his plan, to just disappear on a business trip and ghost me . . . let me down easy? Push me to end it with him?

Maybe I’ll never hear from him again . . . nothing would surprise me any more.

It’s like I’m grieving a death all over again.

I still haven’t told my flatmates . . . I can’t.

I don’t feel strong enough to talk about it . . . so I avoid going home.

I’ve been going to the movies, loitering in restaurants. Spending five hours in the gym. I’ll do anything rather than bring this up and show everyone how weak I really am.

I hate myself for being so weak, I thought I was stronger than this.

Wednesday.

“Knock, knock.” A soft tap sounds on my office door. I glance up to see Christopher and I instantly get a lump in my throat.

Go away.

“Got a minute?” he asks softly.

No.

I force a smile and gesture to the seat at my desk. “Sure.”

He sits down and leans back and crosses his legs; his eyes hold mine.

He knows something.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Have you heard from Elliot?” he asks, his voice soft, cajoling.

I press my lips together hard. “No.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“We haven’t been able to reach him.”

I frown.

“I’m a little worried, to be honest.”

I turn back to my computer and act busy. “You don’t need to worry, he’s in France with his artist.”

He stays silent, so silent that I look back.

His eyes hold mine, and I know that he knows just how broken I am.

My eyes well with tears. “I’m sorry. I just . . .”

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not,” I cut him off; this is the most degrading moment of my life. My boyfriend’s brother coming to comfort me after he ran off with another woman.

I just want to be out of here, away from all these . . . snakes.

“I’m giving you my notice.”

His face falls. “Kate, no.”

“I can’t be here, Chris.”

His haunted eyes hold mine.

“I just . . .” Words fail me, because there are none. None that will make sense anyway. “Today is my last day, I’ll be out by close of business.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispers. “Elliot wouldn’t want you to leave.”

“Elliot is not here, is he?” I snap sharply. “I’m sorry.” I shrug. “I don’t mean to snap at you but . . .”

“It’s okay.” He watches me for a moment. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “Get the hell out of London for a while.”

He leans his face on his hand as he watches me. “Mom’s upset.”

That makes two of us.

I nod, unable to push out words in fear of a full-on meltdown.

“Can I help you pack up?” he asks as he looks around my office.

I smile sadly, Christopher is so kind. “No, I’m okay.”