Chapter 8: You've Got Voicemail

Kate was awakened by sunlight streaming in through the hotel room window. She rolled over and looked at the clock radio on the bedside table. 8:11 AM. It was morning. Which meant she’d slept all night, undisturbed. Which meant he hadn’t even bothered to call and check up on her. Douchebag.

That settled it. This trip was a mistake. She was getting on the first plane out of LAX and heading straight back to her nice comfy little apartment and her nice comfy little job and her nice comfy little life where she belonged. He could go have fun with all the swimsuit models he wanted, for all she cared. She didn’t need this drama. Right?

She tried to summon up some righteous indignation. That’s what she should be feeling right now. He’d made her take two weeks off of work – two weeks! Did he know how hard it was for her to carve out that much time from her schedule? And for what? So he could go dick around with other women in front of her face? She should be angry. She should be furious. She lifted one hand and wiped furiously at the tears that were starting to fill her eyes.

It had all been an illusion – that week they’d spent together in New York. All the things he’d said to her. She’d known it wasn’t real. She’d known. She shouldn’t be surprised. Oh, but it had felt so good just to hope. To hope there might be something more in her life than all the endless hours of work, with no one there to greet her when she made her way home at the end of each day. Just an empty apartment. An empty job. An empty bed. An empty life.

Maybe she shouldn’t be alone. She should take Marcy up on the offer to go stay at her house for a while. Definitely not empty there. That house was always filled to the brim, with Marcy and her husband and their three boys and all their friends and their dog—

No, she couldn’t go there. Kate loved her friend, but spending time at Marcy’s house only emphasized everything that was missing – everything she might have had, once, if things had turned out… differently.

“Oh Aidan,” she whispered, feeling the tears start to overflow her eyes and run down her cheeks.

She plucked a tissue from the box beside the bed and blew her nose. Enough, she commanded herself. No point moping. She would feel better once she was back home in familiar territory. She would go back and throw herself into work – just as she’d always done. Work was the key. Keeping busy enough that there’s no time left to think.

Right now, the first thing she needed to do was call the airline and get herself booked on a flight back home.  She picked up her phone and tried to flick it on with her thumb, but the screen remained black. Out of power.

Kate felt her breath catch in her chest, as a tiny ray of doubt penetrated through the thick black cloud of hopelessness. How long had it been off? Had her call last night to Marcy drained it? Maybe it had been off all night. Maybe he had called. He must have, right? A week ago, he’d been down on one knee, declaring his undying love. Of course, she knew that was just him getting carried away, but still… Could he really have uttered those words if he had another girl he was sleeping with back home?

Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, she wasn’t getting on a plane to anywhere until she got her phone charged up. She knew exactly where her charger was waiting, of course. In the side pocket of her suitcase, right where she had left it – at Aidan’s.

She sighed. She needed to pull herself together. She would have to go back there at least long enough to pick up her stuff. It had to be done. Go back there and hold her head up high and act as if nothing he did mattered to her in the least.

Because it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. He had his life and she had hers. Didn’t matter if she got back there and found a naked swimsuit model in his bed. Didn’t matter.

She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she ran cold water over her face and blotted at her puffy eyes.

Of course it mattered. It mattered more than anything had mattered to her in a very long time. But she’d die before she ever let him see it.

***

Aidan paced his living room, staring at his phone and trying to control the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. It was after nine in the morning now. He should probably start calling around to hospitals.

How could he have let this happen? How could he have let her leave the club without telling anyone where she was going or who she was with? How could he have just sat there and let her go running around with half her shirt missing – around a town she didn’t know at all? She could have left with anyone. Anyone! What if she’d gone with some sicko?

He looked back at his phone, scrolling through their last text message exchange for the hundredth time.

12:56 AM: Ru still there? I left with some people

12:57 AM: I’ll come get u. What club?

12:59 AM: ??? don’t worry about it. I’ll take a cab.

1:04 AM: OK see u later

He hadn’t wanted to seem clingy. He’d just taken his car and gone home so he would be there to let her in when she got back. Play it cool – that had been his mantra last night. He’d been so busy playing it cool that she was probably lying on the side of the road somewhere with her head bashed in. If not worse. How could he have let her leave like that? How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let her be so stupid?

He scrolled further through the message history – all of them one-way, from him to her.

2:26 AM: Having fun?

3:21 AM: Back at my place. See you soon?

He’d stopped playing it cool somewhere around 4 AM. That was the point when his mounting irritation had started to turn to outright fear.

4:03 AM: Should I be worried?

4:19 AM: Srsly please respond

4:32 AM: Kate where are you?

4:44 AM: Hello???

4:56 AM: Plz respond

5:05 AM: KATE PLEASE RESPOND

And on and on and on for hours. His attempts to call had all gone straight to voicemail. How many messages had he left on her phone? He dialed it again now, holding his breath.

“Hi, You've reached Kate Morgan. I'm not able to take your call right now, but please leave your name…."

Straight to voicemail. He didn’t even try to conceal the panic in his voice as he left another message.

“Kate, please. I just need to know—“

He was cut off by a beep and the sound of a computerized voice: “This mailbox is full.”

“Fuck!” He sat down heavily on his couch and put his head in his hands. How many messages had he left her? Must have been at least 20. She would have called by now if she was going to call. Something must have happened. Something terrible must have happened. Oh God, how could he have let it happen?

“Please,” he whispered to his coffee table. “Please let her be OK. Please just let her be OK.”

He was never going to see her again. He knew it – in the pit of his stomach, he knew. Something terrible had happened. He’d let it happen. How could he have let it happen? How could he have let her out of his sight? He swore to himself, right then and there – if he ever saw her face again, he’d never let her out of his sight. Not ever. He’d put her in his bedroom and lock the door and throw away the key—

The sound of a car pulling up outside interrupted his thoughts. Aidan dashed to the front door and flung it open. A taxi. Kate. She was getting out of a taxi. He braced one arm against the doorframe, temporarily unable to speak, as the flood of relief washed through him.