Page 115 of All The Ways to Miss You

Within the pages, I find the story of friends, laughter, companionship, travel, school, parties, family, a lot of sex, and—I think—love. And on one of the last pages, I find two figures standing in front of a little white house. My house on Astor Street.

I drew this image before I ever laid eyes on the house after.

fifty-five

I halt in mid-step at the knock on the front door. Aggie left for work hours ago, and I’m not expecting anyone. Whoever it is knocks again, more insistent this time. I tiptoe to the peephole, but before I can even determine who it is, a voice speaks from the other side.

“It’s Linden.”

I look down at myself and grimace. It’s a miracle I’m showered, but . . .

“Open up,” he says.

I groan. He knows I’m here.

I release the clanking chain and locks and open the door to face him. He’s dressed as he always is in a trim suit, silk tie, and three-thousand-dollar shoes. Today he has a long black wool coat folded over his arm, which is dusted with snowflakes.

When he sees me, he throws his head back in a deep laugh. My arm circles my stomach to hide my shirt, even though I expected his reaction.

“Don’t cover up on my account. I love big sweatshirts with cats shooting lasers from their eyes.”

With an eye roll, I step aside and allow him in. “I ran out of clothes, and you know Aggie’s closet is a preteen’s wet dream. It looks like Lisa Frank exploded on it.” I close the door.

“So does her apartment.” He glances around wearing a scowl. He drops his coat over the sofa.

“What are you doing here?” I take a defensive stance.

“I saw you on the schedule for a meeting today, but I thought it would be better to talk outside the office.” He stops pacing the apartment to study Aggie’s giraffe collection.

“So you could explain the very unprofessional way you tricked me into accepting a job in Chicago? And the very calculated way you set me up in an apartment building with an old boyfriend you knew I wouldn’t remember?”

Linden’s attention returns to me. He appears shocked. “Trick? No. Calculated? Very much so.”

He finds the least offensive place to sit—a furry chair at the kitchen table. I take the seat across from him. For once, even in my pajamas, I’m not afraid of him. It’s him who’s in the hot seat. I tap my finger on the table, waiting for him to explain, but I can’t wait.

Glaring at him, I bite out, “It’s like you’re proud of yourself.”

“I am. Very proud, actually.” He gets comfortable and settles his foot on the opposite knee.

He’s preening, which makes my temperature rise.

“Clarify how you have no remorse? I’d like to understand how you justify giving me a fake job, a fake apartment, and fixing me up in a fake relationship with your brother.” My hand swings.

“Fake job? No. You graduated at the top of your class. You had an excellent résumé with superb interning experience at the best agency in DC. You’re the most qualified candidate I’ve ever interviewed. So I hired you, and you’re great at what you do. That’s not fake.”

I relax a little, settling into my seat. “So you’re not here to fire me?”

“Of course not, but I do need your ass back in the office on Monday. Lakeman’s on hold, but Rosemary Cosmetics is looking for a space, and I need you on the deal.”

“I’ll think about it. Go on.” I press my lips together to hide my relief.

“And as for the Evan part of the equation, that’s more complex.” His foot drops to the floor and he leans forward. “But I’ll tell you this, he didn’t ask me to bring you here. I did it on my own. In fact, the morning you moved in was the exact moment he found out what I did.”

“Why?” I shake my head.

“I thought it would fix things. Fix him. It may have been calculated, but I stand by my decision.” He drills his finger into the tabletop.

“Does he stand by your decision?” My brows rise.