Page 51 of Indebted

Zoe was right.

I needed to trust myself.

I deserved to be happy. Which meant I didn’t second guess myself when I sent off the testimony Justin wrote for me to the investor interested in my charting program. KM-Charting. Katie Malone Charting. I’d talked with my professor about trying to come up with a more medical sounding name, but he told me not to limit myself. So my name it was. The thrill I got seeing my finished product was indescribable. This was it. My future.

Or one part of it.

I’d decided to go over to Justin’s on Saturday. I’d texted that night, but couldn’t wait to see his face in person the next day at work.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” I asked Midge, who was back in office too soon for my liking.

Midge crossed her arms. “He had a meeting about the clinic. Why? What’s so urgent you have to see him?”

I didn’t like the way she watched me, a snide look on her face.

“I wanted to talk to him about the program, he left an email for me to train you up on it.” It wasn’t a lie, but that wasn’t the reason why I wanted to see him.

“Right. The charting program.”

I didn’t appreciate her tone of voice. “Is there something wrong with it? Justin vetted it, if that’s what you’re worried about. He wrote me a wonderful testimonial, I have an interested buyer, which means it’s only a matter of time before it’ll get picked up. It’s going to help hundreds,” I wouldn’t sell myself short, “thousands of people.”

“Sounds like you put a lot of hard work into getting that testimonial.”

Something wasn’t sitting right.

A sick feeling started in my gut and only grew as the day went on.

Midge was acting weird and I hadn’t heard from Justin all day. I knew he was busy, the clinic was generating a lot of buzz, but it was still in the early planning stages and I didn’t know enough about philanthropy to gauge how close he was to actually start construction.

On Saturday, I felt like an idiot standing outside Justin’s house. I wore my best skinny jeans, a new pair of flats I’d bought last night to keep myself occupied when Justin hadn’t texted me back, and a tight sweater with a plunging neckline. I told myself the sweater was a sensible choice. The sleeves would keep me warm against the cool breeze signaling autumn’s arrival—finally—and the open neckline would keep me from overheating. A perfect balance.

I was so full of shit.

I wore it because it looked sexy and I wanted Justin to think of me as sexy. I wanted him to want me. All of me. Forever.

Tonight, I’d show him how much he’d come to mean to me in such a short time.

Inhaling, I ran my hands over myself one last time to make sure everything looked perfect.

I rang the doorbell and waited.

And waited.

I looked at my phone.

I rang the doorbell again, leaning in to try and see through the glass siding.

The foyer remained dark and empty. No light came from the back.

I checked my phone again. We’d agreed Thursday night on the time and though I hadn’t heard from him all Friday when he’d been out on his clinic meeting, Justin wasn’t the type to cancel and not notify me.

I texted him and waited.

And waited.

Fifteen minutes later I still didn’t get a text.

A ball of anxiety started to build low in my gut.