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Nothing.
I hit the bell with the heel of my hand.
Still nothing.
Stay calm, I tell myself…and I ball up my fist and pound on the door until it shudders.
“Bailey,” I shout, “open this door!”
Two other doors creak open, but not hers. I glare at the other doors and since true New Yorkers are standing behind them, both doors quickly close. I turn my attention to the door that matters and bang on it again.
“Dammit, Bailey, I know you’re in there!”
Locks click and jingle. The door opens. “Stop that,” my PA hisses.
I shove the door open and march inside her apartment. Her cat stands in the
middle of the room, back arched.
“Yeah,” I tell the cat, “the exact same to you.”
I look around the room and my calm gives way to fury. Why wouldn’t it, when I see boxes stacked near the sofa?
“You are not,” I say, as I elbow the door shut, “absolutely not moving to Minneapolis.”
Bailey folds her arms over her chest. “I will move wherever I please, Mr. O’Malley.”
“Do you even know about those skyways in Minneapolis?”
She wrinkles her forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“See? You don’t know about them. How can you move to Minneapolis when you don’t know they have skyways?”
“Mr. O’Malley…”
“It’s Matthew.”
“It should have stayed Mr. O’Malley. Now, if you don’t mind—”
“How dare you quit your job?”
Her chin comes up. “How dare I?”
“What about your responsibilities to me?”
“I hired an excellent replacement.”
“An excellent replacement!” I can feel the corner of my mouth curl. “The woman ran at the first little problem.”
Bailey sighs. “Look, my only regret is that I didn’t give you more notice. There just wasn’t time.”
“Is that really your only regret?”
Somehow, my rage has drained away. What I feel instead is a kind of emptiness. I look at Bailey and I see that same emotion in her eyes.
Something knots deep inside me.
She is not dressed for work or for company. Her hair is hanging loose; she’s wearing another slightly shrunken T-shirt. And yoga pants. This pair is old; there’s a tiny hole in one leg. I can see a glimpse of her skin.
