Page 92 of The Truth of Us

Honestly, it could have gone either way.

The elevator ride down was silent, not peaceful silence. The kind where Rowan was clearly deciding whether murder was worth the paperwork.

Finally, he said, “Are you done embarrassing yourself?”

“I wasn’t embarrassing myself.”

“You tried to steal that man’s phone.”

“He is blocking me from Harper.”

Rowan turned his head slowly. I hated when he did that. It made him look like a disappointed gargoyle.

“She left,” he said.

The words hurt more than they should have, because I fucking knew she left. “I know that.”

“No,” his voice was flat. “You know she physically left. You still haven’t accepted that she gets to stay gone.”

My jaw tightened, and the elevator numbers dropped slowly.

“I just need to talk to her.” I pleaded.

“You keep saying that,” Rowan said while turning his attention to his phone.

“Because I do.”

“And what exactly are you going to say?”

The question irritated me, mostly because I didn’t have an answer that didn’t sound like begging. What could I say to fix what had happened? I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared at the doors.

“I don’t know.”

Rowan’s expression shifted. “Then maybe figure that out before you tackle your PR consultant.”

I glared at him; he looked unimpressed. The doors opened, and Rowan stepped out. I followed because apparently this was my life now. Being escorted out of buildings like a drunk uncle at a wedding. A new low for me? Yes. An all-time low? No, that came the next day.

Because the next day, I drove to Harper’s townhouse. I told myself I was not stalking; I was simply checking, and there was a difference. Probably.

I parked across the street and stared at the building for ten minutes before getting out of the car. The townhouse was exactly like her. Elegant, but understated in a way that made people who knew better look twice. I hated that I had never been inside. Not once. She had always come to me. My apartment, office, events… My world. The realization twisted in my gut before I could ignore it.

I crossed the street, knocked, and Thomas opened the door. He looked at me. Then started closing it. Apparently, everyone was on ‘team be an asshole to Elliot’…

“Wait.”

“No.”

I planted one hand on the door before he could shut it entirely. “Thomas.”

“Mr. Vale.”

Oh, so he definitely knew who I was.

“I need to know if she’s okay.”

His expression didn’t change, not even a twitch. “I imagine she is considerably better than she was.”

That landed with enough force that my hand slipped slightly on the door. “I just want to talk to her.”