Chapter 18
Gabrielle's POV
The past two weeks have been magical. Lincoln and I have been making love almost every night.
Sure, there have been some nights where he’s been late, but he seems genuinely in a good mood.
In a much better mood, and the both of us have decided to just move forward with each other and not lose sight of each other.
He’s been working really hard, and so have I, to be honest.
We’re almost upon the summer now, the early June weather, and the air feels so fresh by the ocean, which is only about a half hour away. Sometimes I take a shuttle out there and walk out on the jetty, and it feels like peace, just being out in nature, away from all the bustle.
This would actually be a great place for a picnic with me and Link.
We haven’t done a picnic in a while. We used to go out all the time before he got so busy.
I loved how he would dress like a wilderness soldier.
I used to tease him about it, but it’s just a style he likes whenever he’s out of his office wear.
I send him texts every now and then to let him know that I love him.
Trying to spice up a marriage has to be an all-time job.
The thing is, I’ve come to accept my part to be played in this.
Maybe we can meet each other halfway in other opportunities, but where he’s pulling in most of the money and doing the most grueling job, maybe it has to be 60/40 sometimes. Maybe that’s what relationships are.
Sitting on the jetty, I allow my body to lean over and touch the smooth rocks that have been basted in the ocean’s sheen.
Removing my phone from my pocket, smiling, I dial Lincoln’s number. It goes straight to voicemail. Maybe it’s the signal. Even if I send him a text, he’s not going to get it now.
What time is it?
Maybe I can show up there. I only did that in the beginning to give him lunch, but he’s always so busy I feel like I’m pulling him away.
He’s not going to get the messages until very late. Then he claims he’s in the test room most times, and the place feels like it’s locked down to the point where you have to go through five different people just to get where you’re going.
Standing to my feet, I walk back and wait by the shuttle stop.
My heart is beating so fast, my nerve endings blasting at their max setting at the idea of seeing my husband.
Gosh, why do I feel like I’m a little kid again having a crush, which ironically was him?
The large building of Helion looms. I stop by the street to go get some food, something small, something I know Lincoln likes. A stupid pastry that tastes bitter to me but that Lincoln loves. Then I make my way toward the building and approach security.
The officer looks at me. “Who are you trying to get in contact with?”
“My husband.”
“And what’s your husband’s name?”
“Heh. Sorry. Lincoln Arnoldson.”
The security officer is quiet for a while as he types on his computer, then finally says, “Mr Arnoldson already clocked out.”
Weird.
Already clocked out?
Confusion sets in.
“How long ago did he clock out? I’m sorry… did I just miss him?”
“No, he clocked out at around 11:30.”
Now my heart is beating even faster.
“So he’s not in the building whatsoever?”
“When people clock out of the building it usually signals that they’re exiting the premises,” he answers.
I try not to make myself look worried. “Thank you so much.”
“Mmhm, have a good day, ma’am,” the burly security officer says.
The way my body is shaking right now. The way my heart is beating so fast. It’s 2:30 p.m. My husband clocked out of work three hours ago and didn’t say anything to me. As far as I knew, it’s Thursday, and he’s supposed to have a full workday. So where the hell is he?
Thinking better of it, I go back to the security officer. I hate to be this person, but I have to be thorough because my senses are just going haywire.
“I’m so sorry, but I also came to see Sarah.”
“And what’s your relationship to the employee?”
“Family friend,” I say.
“If it’s not direct family, like husband or daughter, then I’m not at liberty to give you that information,” he replies.
I nod understandably, my heart falling.
“It’s okay, I appreciate it. Thank you.”
Leaving the building, despite it being a bright day, a balmy 85°, I feel cold.
Fingers shaking, I dial Lincoln’s phone again.
Straight to voicemail.
What the hell is going on?
Sending a text, I wait.
Not delivered.
Trying not to be crazy, I wait a few minutes before dialing three times in a row only to be met with voicemail again.
Where the hell is my husband?
If he’s not at work, where would he be, and why wouldn’t he tell me?
Is he at home?
If he was, he would have asked where I was.
My heart is going crazy because I don’t want to think about the very real possibility that is haunting me, the one that has been haunting me ever since it reared its ugly head.
I plug in a destination and order a shuttle.
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