Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
“This is a bad idea,” Mallory says, following me around my apartment as I toss my keys and metro card into my purse. “It’s five-thirty in the morning. Can you even get a cab this early?”
“This is New York City,” I respond. “I could get a cab at any time of day… naked… while talking to an invisible cat.”
“Your butt is sweating,” Jill says from where she’s leaning in the doorway of our kitchen.
I whirl around to face her. “Of course it’s sweating! I’m nervous as hell! All this time I thought he took my virginity as Romeo, then left me. I thought he threw me to the wolves to defend our actions to my classmates for the next three and a half years. Meanwhile, he did it all to save my spot in the program. I have to see him. I can’t read the final entry in his journal without him here with me. And I don’t have the willpower to wait until tomorrow. So I’m going now.”
Jill and Mallory share a quick glance until Jill simply nods; like they have some sort of unspoken agreement. Like they’re letting me go.
It infuriates me, but I don’t have time to deal with them. Not when Holden and I have lost so much time as it is. I don’t want to lose another second.
I race down my stairs, not wanting to wait for the ancient elevator to collect me. When I make it outside, I rush out to the corner of the street, hailing the first cab I find.
Slamming the door shut, I give the driver Holden’s address, my heart racing as the taxi speeds off and weaves through the mostly deserted streets.
The city lights blur past me through the window as the sun breaches the horizon over the East River, streaking the navy sky with wisps of gold.
The cab makes it to the grand high rise on the upper west side in record time. I pay the driver quickly and rush inside, skidding to a stop in front of the doorman. The last time I was inside this building was when I’d learned Holden was back together with Missy. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“May I help you, ma’am?” He looks at me skeptically, like I might be here to drop off menus to the Italian sandwich shop around the corner.
“I’m here to see Holden Dorsey,” I say. “I mean… Holden James. Holden James Dorsey,” I clarify, realizing I’m not sure which name he has on his lease here.
“Identification?”
Still clutching Holden’s journal in my arms, I set it on the counter and yank my ID free from my wallet, handing it over.
The man runs his palm over his slick, dark hair, then lifts the phone and dials a number. After several silent seconds, he lowers it again to its cradle. “I’m sorry Ms. Harris, but it seems like Mr. Dorsey isn’t home.”
Isn’t home? “But… it’s five-thirty in the morning,” I say. Where the hell could he be if he isn’t home?
Ugly thoughts rear their head in my mind, but I push them aside.
He wouldn’t be running away. Not again.
And I know he’s not with another woman.
I know now I can trust him, even when it doesn’t seem like I can.
“Well… do you know when he’ll be back?” I plead.
The doorman eyes me skeptically. "I have no idea when he'll return. And even if I did, I wouldn't be at liberty to share that information."
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back defiantly. “Can’t you make an exception? Or … or… is there a list of approved people?—”
“There is a list. You’re not on it.” He shakes his head with a finality that stings more than it should. “No exceptions. You can try coming back at a normal hour.”
And with that, he turns his back to me, making it clear the conversation is over.
Defeated, I go through the gold revolving doors that spit me back out onto the dusky, quiet street. People in the city are beginning to wake up. A couple of early joggers pass by me. One older woman walks her dog, paper cup of cheap bodega coffee in hand.
I slump down, sitting on a bump out of the building and hug my knees to my chest.
I exhale a deep sigh, watching my breath mist in the chilly morning air as worry gnaws at my insides. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm the rising panic in my chest.
I'm startled from my thoughts as a huge, black SUV turns onto the street, its headlights cutting through the milky dawn. As it pulls to a stop in front of me, I scramble to my feet, almost dropping Holden’s journal in my haste.
Holden jumps out of the car, his expression melting from surprise to concern in nearly an instant. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” His voice is so gentle, his eyes shining with so much sincerity that whatever is left of my heart, shatters into dust.
He strides over to me swiftly and cups my face in his hands, his amber eyes searching mine intently.
I curl into his arms, clinging to him, inhaling his familiar scent. “Yes,” I cry, relief washing over me in a dizzying wave. “I’m fine. I just didn’t want to read your final journal entry without you. I had no idea you were expelled from school. I thought you just took the gig in New Jersey, became famous, and never thought of me again.”
He shakes his head against me. “I thought of you every fucking day. Every fucking minute.” Holden pulls back to look at me, his hands framing my face. “McCay told me that if I contacted you again, she’d make sure you didn’t graduate.”
“She made my life hell for three and a half years. They all did. Everyone blamed me for Duncan. And you quitting the football team. Hell, I thought you blamed me for Duncan?—”
“I know,” Holden’s voice cracks. “I’m sorry. It was the only way I knew to make sure you never wanted to speak to me again.”
“Oh, please,” a deep, but playful voice says from next to the SUV. “No one blames you for that. Least of all me.”
“Duncan?” I whisper, feeling like I’m seeing a ghost.
“In the flesh.” A big goofy grin lights up his face.
“What… what are you doing here?” My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of him. He looks as handsome as ever with dark hair that’s cut clean around his ears. Bright blue eyes flash and impossibly, his smile widens even more. Impressive biceps bulge from beneath a t-shirt as he pushes his wheelchair forward. “I wanted to surprise you at the show tonight.” He pauses to spread his fingers in jazz hands. “Surprise!”
“He just got in on the red-eye from London. I was picking him up at the airport,” Holden says, holding open the door for both of us.
“London! What are you doing in London?”
“Consulting for a tech company,” he says casually. As if it’s nothing. “Nothing as cool as starring in a Broadway show with my first love,” he adds with a wink. “Would you come here and give me a fucking hug already?”
I launch forward and wrap my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.”
He shakes his head as we pull apart from the hug, but he doesn’t release my hand as we enter the lobby of Holden’s apartment building and head for the elevators. “I was in a dark place for a couple of years… you trying to keep in touch wouldn’t have gone well.”
Holden presses the button for us and when the doors open, we all get on together. “The only person I couldn’t ignore was Holden,” Duncan adds. “Thank God for him. He never gave up on me.”
“Thank God for Holden,” I whisper and look at him beside me.
The elevator rises swiftly, its polished brass interior reflecting the three of us. I stare at Duncan and Holden, hardly believing they are both here with me after all these years. The elevator bell dings signaling our arrival on Holden's floor.
The doors slide open to reveal a short hallway leading to a single door. Holden unlocks it and gestures for us to enter grandly.
Holden ushers us into his penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. The floor-to-ceiling windows provide panoramic views of the cityscape bathed in the soft glow of dawn. Duncan wheels over to the windows, taking it all in.
“Coffee?” Holden offers both of us as he crosses to a Nespresso machine.
I nod as Duncan politely declines. “I’m actually pretty wiped. Wouldn’t mind getting a little sleep before we start the day. Besides,” Duncan’s eyes drop to the journal still clutched in my hands. “Looks like you two might need a little private time.”
In the craziness of Duncan’s arrival, it didn’t occur to me that he would recognize the journal. But of course he would. He lived with Holden all through college. He knew this journal even more than I probably did.
"Of course, let me show you the guest room," Holden says, starting the Nespresso for me. As he walks past me, he pauses to kiss my cheek tenderly before leading Duncan down the hall.
I circle slowly around the open concept kitchen while my coffee brews and run my hand over the glossy marble-topped island, taking in Holden’s apartment. All this time and I’ve still never been here. I choose not to read too much into that for the moment and instead take my steaming mug of coffee and lower onto the couch, resting the journal in my lap, placing my bag at my feet.
Holden returns after only a couple of minutes and sits beside me. “Did you finish?” he asks, gesturing to the journal.
“One entry left,” I answer, shaking my head. “And I couldn’t imagine reading it without you here.”
Anxiety and worry creeps across his face, etching lines of concern onto his brow. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I slide the journal into his lap. “Let’s finish this.”
He regards me cautiously for a moment. “I’m trying to begin this,” he whispers, his voice quivering slightly, betraying the depth of his emotions. “Not finish it.”
“We have to end one chapter before we can begin the next,” I whisper and reach over, flipping the journal open to the last entry. “Trust the process, right?”
The silence that follows is thick with unspoken words and unexpressed emotions, hanging heavily in the air like a dense fog.
His throat bobs with a thick swallow and after a moment of hesitation, he gives a slow nod. Visible tension ripples through his body as beads of sweat form on his forehead. “Trust the process,” he murmurs to himself. Finally, with a deep breath and a determined look in his eyes, he nods in agreement. “Well, here goes nothing.”