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It struck me that no one from Easton was there, or at least not on camera. If anyone was going to be concerned for Leander’s wellbeing, it would be one of the inner circle. Since there was nary a peep about me, I had a feeling their involvement in this “case” was nil. Not to mention the fact they were smart enough to investigate his disappearance on their own andnotturn to the police.
She drew herself upright, gripping the podium. The only sound was the rapid clicking of cameras. It took a century for her to work up the nerve to speak, since she cleared her throat and blinked away a handful of tears half a dozen times. “I’m here today to ask for the public’s help. If you saw anything, heard anything, or know something, please call the Cook County Sheriff’s Office. You can remain anonymous. All we care about is getting Leander back. And Leander? If you see this, please come home. I miss—”
A stream of nearly incomprehensible Italian flew out of my mouth at the same time I threw my hands in the air, spinning away from the TV before I broke something.
Marching straight into the hotel bar seemed like the safest bet for everyone in a twenty-foot radius of me. The last thing I needed was to hearHerpleading to some imaginary kidnappers and sobbing about how much Leander meant to her. Suddenly, everything that happened an hour ago seemed absolutely pointless. In one weepy statement, Lorelei managed to stab me in the heart with the heel of her fucking Louboutin and destroy everything I’d hoped for.
Before I even made it to the stool at the end of the bar, the bartender had a strawberry piña colada waiting.
“Needs more rum,” I said, throwing a couple bills on the polished wood. It would have been rude to refuse the national drink entirely, but I wasn’t in the mood for something refreshing — I was in the mood to erase a snivelly blonde from existence. Since I couldn’t technically do anything to her from Puerto Rico, I could at least get blackout drunk. Pretty much the same thing.
“Claro.” Manuel chuckled and nodded, retrieving a bottle from behind the bar. He poured a glass of dark rum and tossed in an ice cube.
I chugged half of the piña colada and dumped the glass of rum into it, stirring them together with the straw.
By the time I reached the bottom of the glass, Manuel placed another tumbler of rum and ice in front of me, sans fruit. I slid him another bill for his foresight and slipped off the barstool, making my way to the bank of windows overlooking Old San Juan.
What the fuck was I expecting? Of course she would miss him. Who wouldn’t? Not to mention, he up and disappeared on a whim. Leaving our cell phones behind for much-needed R&R, we boarded the private plane with only the clothes on our backs. The freedom was intoxicating. But freedom always came with a price. I knew that. So, why did I think this time to be any different?
Leander’s girlfriend.For fuck’s sake.
At some point, a full bottle of rum appeared on the window ledge next to me with a fresh glass of ice. God bless that man.
Topping off my tumbler again, I was halfway through it when fingertips grazed my back. A moment later, Leander materialized at my side, his face unreadable. From the quirk of his mouth, I got the feeling he wasn’t happy. His gaze narrowed on my glass immediately.
I gave him a sidelong look, waiting to see if he had the nerve to say something about how much alcohol I’d managed to consume in such a short period. I also refused to be the first one to address the blonde elephant in the room. Purposely taking another sip, or gulp, I raised my brows at him.
His fingers curled around my glass, slowly pulling it out of my hand as if daring me to try and stop him. Lifting a dark brow, he sipped it before setting it down on the window ledge, just out of my reach. Guess he didn’t see the half-empty bottle behind me.
“I arranged for our return flight,” he said, his voice soft and controlled.
It shouldn’t have been shocking, but it still felt like someone knocked the wind out of me. As soon as I saw that blonde bitch on TV I knew he’d regret his decision to up and leave… his company, the mainland —Her. It was a dark, niggling feeling that had been lurking from the moment he told me we were running away. Maybe that’s why he was so weird the other day in the shower. Maybe he’d been missing her. Maybe he’d been trying to figure out a way to get home and now he had the perfect excuse.
I exhaled and braced both hands against the window ledge, hanging my head to try and alleviate the rising nausea. This was it. This was him rescinding his answer, this was him telling me he was going back to her. That it was all a mistake. If he told me we could still be friends, I was going to immediately walk to the Castillo and hurl myself from the wall.
“We’re leaving Sunday,” he continued, apparently unperturbed by the turn of events or the fact I was on the verge of falling to fucking pieces.
My head snapped up in time to see him shift his attention to the window and the skyline beyond. Perfectly poised, he radiated a steady calm. The departure date was three days away, which surprised me more than his first announcement. I straightened slowly, watching his reflection in the glass.
When he didn’t elaborate, I cleared my throat softly, hoping I didn’t sound as bitter as I felt. “Why the delay?”
He met my eyes in the dark glass, his chin lifted regally. “Because we have an appointment tomorrow at ten.”
I furrowed my brows. My buzz kicked in two glasses ago, but I knew I wasn’t drunk enough to have missed the obvious strategy in delaying. “For what?”
A curl fell across his forehead when he tilted his head to the side, turning on the ball of his foot to face me. “Do you want to leave sooner?”
“I figured you would.”
His mouth turned down for the briefest moment. “Are you angry, mon coeur?”
“No.” I realized that sounded entirely too pouty, so I clarified. “I’m annoyed.”
“Don’t be. I called the police in Chicago and informed them I’m perfectly fine. It was all a misunderstanding. I offered to reimburse them for their time and effort, but they declined. Surprisingly. Still, we should probably make some sort of donation when we get back.”
I squinted at him, trying to suss out what was going on in his brain. He called thepolice, notHer. Or so he said… Then again, despite everything that he was, he wasn’t a liar, least of all to me. Maybe. I don’t know. He did basically lie to my face for months instead of telling me he was in love with me, only to turn around and do the Mexican Hat Dance on my heart.
“Why are you so calm right now?” I asked, choosing to focus on the present and not the time we were apart. “This is a PR shit storm. You know that. You said it” — I had no concept of time, so I waved toward the lobby — “over there.”
