52. Chapter 50
Emery
I crunch on my cereal as I stare at the untouched blanket and pillow on the floor in the corner of the living area. It’s Xavier’s designated spot for his things. Said things are absent.
He didn’t come home last night.
I expected to feel him join me in bed at some point, but I woke up alone, and the other pillow clearly hadn’t been slept on.
An unsettled, restless feeling hums under my skin.
I don’t even have a message from him, letting me know what his plans are. He just…didn’t come home.
Which also means I haven’t received a gift in over twenty-four hours now. Have we reached the end? Are they tapped out on gifts? They’d said there would be seventeen.
Scooping up another mouthful of cereal, I drag my notebook from Hudson closer to me and flip it open, counting each of the notes from him. Some of my gifts have come without a note, so I assumed they were from Xavier.
…Six. Seven. Eight.
Plus the three things from Xavier.
That’s eleven.
Hmmm…
And then, not to mention, my sketch pads and graphite set still haven’t been found. I know I could easily go and buy myself a new set, but the thought of replacing them makes my chest tighten.
My entire life is documented in that first sketch pad, if you can even call the mess of scrap papers, receipts, and napkins stuck together like Frankenstein origami a sketch pad. It can’t just be gone.
The table rattles gently, and I glance at my phone, a text notification from Will on the screen asking about our study session this afternoon. I swipe the notification away but still open my messages and start typing one out to Derek.
Me: Have you checked the apartment for my things?
I keep the phone awake and open as I continue to eat my breakfast, and it doesn’t take long for the message to turn to read.
Derek: I will be going to the apartment this weekend. If it is there, I will have it delivered to you.
Irritation rages through me. He said he was going to go when I asked him the first time. Clearly, that was a lie.
Not wanting to rock the boat, because I actually want my things back, I shoot him a thumbs-up emoji.
But then my mouth falls open when he replies with his own emoji.
The kissing face with the love heart on the lips.
Derek: Have a good day, baby girl.
Heat flushes through my system, amping up my irritation and igniting another emotion I absolutely refuse to acknowledge. I’m also going to ignore the way heat settles low in my stomach.
No. Nope.
I don’t feel those things about Derek anymore.
I’m not going to let him back in just so he can abandon me.
Never again.