Chapter 47
E mma
Marcus doesn’t contact me for the rest of Sunday, but I don’t worry about it much. After all, he’s probably busy with his emergency. By Monday afternoon, however, I’m checking my phone every five minutes, afraid I somehow missed a call or a text.
There’s nothing, though.
Not even a quick “hey.”
At dinnertime, my phone finally rings. I grab it eagerly, my pulse jumping in excitement, but it’s only Kendall—undoubtedly calling to get all the juicy details about my hookup. Swallowing my disappointment, I start to accept the call, but at the last second, I send it to voicemail instead.
I don’t want to discuss Marcus with her—not until I know what’s going on between us.
Assuming anything is still going on, that is.
I debate reaching out to him myself, sending a quick text to see how he’s doing, but I decide against it.
He might get annoyed that I’m bothering him in the middle of his emergency, or worse yet, he might not respond, and then I’ll feel really awful.
In any case, Marcus is not an insecure college freshman who needs to be prodded into contacting a girl he likes.
The fact that I haven’t heard from him means he doesn’t want to talk to me.
It’s as simple as that.
I spend Monday night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable.
Even with my cats next to me, my bed feels empty and cold, my blanket too thin to repel the winter chill seeping in through the poorly insulated window.
My boss told me a major snowstorm is coming tomorrow night, and it feels like it, with the wind already kicking up and the temperatures starting to plummet.
I hope I can fly out on Wednesday. It would majorly suck if the airline canceled my flight.
I finally drift off to sleep after two, and when my alarm goes off at seven, I immediately reach for my phone.
Still nothing.
No calls, no texts.
My stomach sinks, and the heavy tightness returns to my chest. It’s possible that Marcus is still insanely busy at work, but texting something along the lines of “hey, thinking of you” would take less than three seconds.
Unless, of course, he’s not thinking of me at all—which is looking increasingly likely.
He may have had his fill of sex with me and moved on, in which case I may never hear from him again.
I try not to think about it, but by Tuesday afternoon, I can no longer dismiss the possibility.
Maybe with another guy, a two-day disappearance wouldn’t have meant much, but Marcus has never played by the rules of modern courtship, complete with all the “keep her guessing” games.
From the very beginning, he’s been crystal clear about his intentions, going after what he wanted—me in his bed—with the same kind of intensity he must apply to all areas of his life.
Daily dates, over-the-top gifts, meeting my grandparents on Skype, spending most of the weekend with me—he all but bulldozed his way into my body and my life.
I didn’t stand a chance once he set his sights on me… and maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe a challenge was what he wanted all along, and since I’ve ceased to be that, he’s moved on to something—or someone—more exciting.
Around four, Kendall calls me again, and I again send her to voicemail.
I can imagine how excited and bubbly she’ll sound, wanting to hear all about my affair with a billionaire, and I simply don’t feel up to dissecting Marcus’s actions with her.
Maybe it’s because I got so little sleep last night, but I feel completely drained, as listless as if I were coming down with the flu.
And maybe I am.
Maybe that’s what this squeezing pain in my chest is all about.
“You should go home early,” Mr. Smithson advises when I’m done shelving this week’s shipment of romance novels. “It’s already starting to snow.”
“Oh, right. I almost forgot about the storm.” I glance outside, where the howling wind is driving the first flurries into twister-like patterns. “I’ll have to check on my flight.”
My boss grimaces. “It’s not looking good, Emma, sorry. They said on the news the airlines have already started announcing cancellations.”
Great. Just great. My eyes prickle, and I have to turn away, blinking rapidly to keep the sudden influx of tears at bay. I didn’t realize until now how much I’ve been anticipating this trip—both because I badly miss my grandparents and because I need to get away.
I’m dying to escape from this awful weather… and the growing pain of the realization that I may never see Marcus again.
* * *
I make it home before the worst of the snow starts, my neck snug and warm thanks to the scarf Marcus gifted me. I didn’t want to put it on this morning, but the wind was too biting to ignore.
Dispirited, I take it off and put it in a shoebox to keep it safe from Mr. Puffs. Then I hang up my coat and give the cats their dinner before trudging to my laptop to check on my flight.
To my relief, my airline has only cancelled tonight’s and tomorrow morning’s flights so far. They must expect the weather to clear up by tomorrow afternoon.
“Well, that’s something,” I tell the cats, returning to the kitchen to make my own dinner. “I may be able to make it to Florida, after all.” Even to my own ears, however, my voice sounds flat, lacking all hint of excitement.
Because as much as I want to see my grandparents and bask in the Florida sun, I know—deep in my bones, I know—that none of it will chase away the spreading hollowness inside me.
The growing conviction that Marcus and I are done.