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I glance around the room, my gut starting to feel unsettled. I think back to the last time I saw Becka—when we had a quickie in her office a few days ago. Nothing was amiss when I left. She had a smile on her face and that just-fucked look in her eyes that I’ve become addicted to.
No signs of anything brewing in that beautiful, wonderful, overthinking brain of hers. I thank Penny, and when she walks away, I pull out my phone and send Becka a text. I’m not going to play games with her.
My knee bounces restlessly as I wait for her to respond. When my phone buzzes in my hand, I react like an addict eager for my next hit, quickly clicking on her message and reading it, searching for answers that it doesn’t reveal.
I text her again and my brow instantly furrows in concern when she responds with another similarly vague answer. Frustration joins the concern brewing in my gut as she dodges my questions with mostly one-word answers. Until finally she sends a blow that I should’ve seen coming.
Becka: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I thought I could, but I think it’s too much for me.
I don’t respond. I know better. Something happened, and I’ll figure out what the hell it was because no way in hell am I losing this woman. I love her enough to love her through her crazy irrational freak-outs. She’s going to have to do a whole hell of a lot more than that if she thinks she can drive me away.
Just as the lights dim around the room signaling the start of the documentary, I shoot off one more text, to Will this time.
If Becka won’t tell me what’s going on, then I’ll find out another way.
33
The plane lands and my heart drops with it. I’m way more nervous than I thought I was going to be, and I’m having a hard time getting out of my head. I also can’t help but feel like I left my world in shambles back in LA.
But there’s no point thinking about that when I can only focus on one problem at a time right now.
I find Elise at baggage claim, texting on her phone.
“Hey, stranger,” I say, my voice clogging with emotion because I haven’t seen her in almost a year, and I’ve missed her like crazy.
Her wavy brown hair is shorter than when I saw her last, now cut so it rests at the top of her shoulders. Her green eyes—an Edmonson trait we all inherited—sparkle when she sees me, and she jumps up from her chair and rushes over to me. We embrace in a tight hug, and when we part there are a few stray tears in both our eyes.
“I’ve missed you, Becks.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I say, pulling her in for another tight hug. Sometimes it’s hard not to still see the little girl in pigtails who cut my favorite Barbie’s hair because she wanted to be a hair stylist and thought it would grow back. But I can’t deny that the poised young woman in front of me is no longer that little girl. She’s all grown up now, and I couldn’t be prouder of the woman she’s become.
She pulls back, and her warm expression turns cautious and serious. “You ready for this?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question?
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“Me too.”
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get this over with.”
The ride to the hotel is a blur, my head torn between two unknowns, one awaiting us here in Vegas and the one I left behind. We get checked in, drop off our luggage, and then head back down to the lobby, never really taking a moment to rest. I don’t know Elise’s reasons, but I imagine they’re similar to mine. I have to keep moving, or I’m afraid I’ll chicken out.
We make our way out of the hotel, and after glancing down at her phone, Elise looks around.
“There are some cabs over there,” I say, pointing to a line of yellow taxi cabs.
Elise ignores me, and then her gaze settles on a black town car and she smiles wide. “No need for a cab. That’s our ride,” she says, pointing to the town car, which has to cost way more than a cab.
“Uh, are you sure? Let’s just take a cab. It’s cheaper.”
Once again, she ignores me, making her way to the car, and like the loyal sister I am, I follow her. If that’s how she wants to waste her money, then who am I to stop her?
When we get inside the air-conditioned car, I take a sigh of relief to be out of the oppressive Vegas heat.
“What made you want to rent a town car?”
She doesn’t look at me, her gaze taking in the scenery outside the window as she responds. “It just seemed like a good idea.”
