And with that bitter goodbye, he leaves me standing in front of the police station, the heat suffocating me—as if the moment he walked away, all the air went with him.
28
Baptiste
I haven’t slept in four days. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is Harper—tears in her eyes as I leave her in front of the police station. It took everything I had not to go back. Heck, it still does. But I just can’t condone what she did.
I clench my fists at my sides, grinding my teeth in frustration. Why do people have to spoil everything? Why do people always end up hurting me? Abandoning me. Cheating on me. Leaving me for a job across the globe. Lying and stealing DNA from me.
I really wanted to forgive her. And I almost did when she said she loved me. Finally, after weeks of wondering if we were on the same page, she actually said it. But that only made her betrayal eventougher to digest. You don’t lie to someone you love. You don’t steal from them.
I roll out of bed and rub my burning eyes, my head pounding from lack of sleep. When I check my phone, I’m greeted by a text from Miles in our group chat.
Miles:Game of NHL Master this morning? I’m making pancakes.
Adler:I’m in. Be there in 15.
Miles:Froggy, you in?
They’ve been wanting to hang out for days, and I keep turning them down. It’s only the three of us in New York right now, since everyone else is on vacation.
I groan, dragging myself upright, when another message hits the screen.
Adler: Let’s just go to his place. He won’t be able to ignore us then.
I sigh.
Baptiste:I’m not in the mood.
Miles:We’ll be there soon.
Adler:Unless you want to save us the trouble and drag your French butt to our building.
I shake my head at my phone. Adler and Miles live in the same building. Fitting, since they’re both equally annoying.
Baptiste:Fine. I’ll come.
I shuffle over to the shower, standing under the water longer than necessary, hoping it’ll wash away the deep ache in my chest. It doesn’t. When I step back into my apartment, I realize the place isa mess—laundry piled on the chair, an empty mug on the counter, snack wrappers littering the couch. I brew some coffee out of habit and immediately regret it when the smell reminds me of our last morning together.
I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts, stopping when I reach her name. I’ve been itching to call her. To make sure she’s safe. But I know the girls are still in touch with her. I didn’t tell anyone why we broke up, just that we had, and they asked if they could remain friends with her. I know they’d tell me if anything had happened.
I grab my keys and open the front door—and a manila envelope falls at my feet.
I peek outside, glancing left and right, but the street is empty.
Picking it up, I turn it over. A handwritten note is scrawled on the back, just below the seal.
I know I went too far and ruined things between us, but if you want to know the results, here they are.
I freeze, the envelope suddenly weighing down my hands like a stack of bricks.
Her implication is clear. If I open this envelope, I’ll know if Helen is really my mother. But do I even want to know? What would it change?
My phone vibrates again.
Adler:If you’re not here in fifteen minutes, we’re sending the cops to your house.
I roll my eyes, close the door behind me, and clutch the envelope as I walk to my car. I drop it on the passenger seat, then slide behind the wheel and head to Miles’s place.
