Delete that too.
I let the screen dim.
Let the message sit there, unread but burning a hole through my chest.
And for the first time since this whole thing started, I don’t text her back.
I push my phone into my jacket pocket, stand up, and walk toward the exit of the park as the city lights blink awake.
If this is the end, I guess I should let it be the end, and leave it as a shining memory.
Chapter Nineteen
ELENA
Toward the end of the week, work drags.
Not the normal “Friday drag,” but the kind where time feels sticky and slow, like I’m trying to move through honey.
By 5:07 p.m., I’ve organized my inbox.
Then reorganized it.
Then deleted eight emails I probably should’ve kept.
And still,no text from Colt,which is weird.
He’s not a big texter, but he always responds.
He always sendssomething.
Even if it’s just a joke, a check-in, or a “did you eat enough today?”
I tell myself not to be dramatic.
Maybe I’m overthinking it like a high schooler who’s been left on read after sending a homecoming proposal.
But my stomach is tight.
And I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.
“The Aurora,” Harper says, spreading her arms like she’s unveiling a magic trick. “God, I love this place. Everyone here is hot.”
I try to smile like usual, but it doesn’t fully form.
She looks at me suspiciously. “You’re barely sipping your drink.”
I glance down at the untouched glass of rosé. My fingers are lightly sweating around the stem.
“Just tired,” I lie.
“No,” she says immediately. “Nope. That’s not a tired face. That’s an I’m-in-my-head-about-a-man face.”
“I’m not.”
“You SO are.”
I sigh and put the glass down. “Colt hasn’t texted.”
