Chapter 26 #3
Frankie: There’s brooding, and then there’s vanishing.
Zion: He’s probably just scared. He made a big romantic gesture and then panicked. Maybe he’s bad at feelings.
Frankie: This isn’t a big romantic gesture. My mom found this room. He didn’t show me.
Zion: See. You proved my point. He loves you, that’s a fact.
He did all that without you even knowing.
What’s happening now is one of three things, his phone’s dead, he has temporary amnesia, or he was abducted by aliens.
Whatever it is, you’re not going to die alone.
Or dance alone, remember the end of My Best Friend’s Wedding.
Frankie smiled as a tear slid down her cheek.
Zion: Do you need me to come get you?
Frankie: No, I’m good. I’ll see you in an hour.
Zion: Sure?
Frankie: I swear on Pacey Witter.
They both loved Dawson’s Creek and were die-hard Pacey and Joey shippers, but more than anything else worshipped at the altar that was Pacey Witter and took the took sanctity of Pacey Witter very seriously.
Zion: See you in an hour, Gorgeous.
Frankie closed her eyes and let herself believe Zion for half a second.
Maybe he was abducted by aliens. Then she blinked and scrolled back through the camera roll, watching the video she’d just sent her bestie, looking for some hidden clue, some message she’d missed.
She zoomed in on the paintings, searching for a note or a signature, but it was just her own childish handwriting, her own old dreams, staring back at her.
She stood and paced the sunroom, the soles of her feet chilled by the polished cement of the concrete floor, as she thought about every moment since she’d seen Liam walking towards her in the emergency room.
About the way Liam had looked at her, like he wanted to memorize each detail of her, and how she’d tried to keep it light, to keep it surface, because she was afraid of what it meant if she let herself fall into that green-eyed gaze.
She thought about the hike up to the waterfall, where he’d told her things about his childhood, things she hadn’t heard even when they were inseparable growing up.
She thought about the way he’d kissed her in the hallway, then instantly got angry at himself for wanting her, and how he’d been the one to tell her he loved her.
She also thought about how easily he’d cut his dad and brother off.
And how he’d Mission Impossibled Yaya’s house, which one would think was in the he-loves-me column instead of the he-loves-me-not.
But what that told her was, if he wanted to he would.
If he could turn Yaya’s house state-of-the-art in less than twenty-four hours and make this art room of her dreams a reality, there was no way he couldn’t text her back or get in touch with her some way when she’d told him that she needed to speak to him.
The longer she stood there, the more the room began to feel like a mausoleum instead of a gallery.
Now all she could think as she looked at this love and labor was, what if it’s all over?
She hated herself for that thought and for the gnawing pain that grew behind her ribs every time she tried to convince herself she didn’t care.
Her phone buzzed with a message from her Theia Dee Dee saying it was time for final touches and then to get dressed.
Another wave of tears threatened, but she blinked them back, not wanting to smudge her makeup even worse.
She turned away from the wall of memories and took one last panoramic scan with her eyes, as if she might never see this room again.
Then she squared her shoulders, wiped her cheeks, and headed out, retracing her steps down the dark hallway and toward the hum of voices and laughter.
She passed her Theia Joanne in the kitchen, flipping cookies onto a cooling sheet, and tried to join the conversation.
But her mind kept drifting back to Liam and the hollow, echoing silence where his voice should have been.
Even surrounded by all the noise and color, she felt his absence like a missing tooth, something you couldn’t stop probing with your tongue.
Putting on her brave face, she let Kiki fuss with her hair as Theia Selene argued with Theia Joanne over which had the better DJ at their wedding.
She listened, she laughed, and she offered opinions when pressed, but in her head, she was replaying every minute of the past ten days, searching for the moment where she’d lost the plot, where she’d given Liam the power not just to break her heart, but to demolish it.
Because that was the truth. She’d let him in.
He’d gotten under her skin, into her bloodstream.
And now she was stuck, waiting for a call that might never come.
Every logical part of her knew that Zee was right, that Liam was probably just busy having a crisis because his dad was in town, or adjusting to no longer working at Pine General, or he was bad at communicating, or his world did not revolve around her.
But the part of her that mattered—the part that bled every time she let herself hope—had already started to grieve.
She wanted so badly to believe any one of those were true, but no matter what she tried, she just couldn’t shake the sick feeling in her stomach that something was wrong. Really wrong, and Liam was gone. Not physically, she knew he’d be at the wedding. But emotionally…
He left before. He disappeared. What’s to say he wouldn’t do it again?