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“Hey, mom.” I wedge the phone between my shoulder and ear as I toss my suitcase onto the bed. It feels weird being here, back in Chicago. After weeks spent in Italy with Elara, being back in the States feels almost foreign.
“Hi, baby. You make it home okay?” Her sweet voice fills the space.
“We did. Just landed about an hour ago.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted.” I sigh, walking to the far window and looking down at the city below.
“I bet.”
“Anyway, I need to get some things settled here and stuff, but I wanted to let you know that we made it home safe and sound so you wouldn’t worry.”
“Of course, honey. You do your stuff and call me later after you’ve settled in.”
“Okay. Sounds good, Ma.”
“I love you, Kane.”
“Love you too.” I click the phone off and turn, spotting Elara leaning against the bedroom door frame watching me.
“Hey.” I let my eyes trail the length of her. Even in yoga pants and a tank top, hair a messy bun and zero makeup on, she has to be the most breathtaking creature on this earth.
“Hey,” she answers, knotting her hands in front of herself.
“You good?” I ask, sensing that something is off with her.
It takes less than three seconds for it to happen. One minute she’s standing there, the next she dissolves into tears, her hands coming up to cover her face.
“Elara.” I’m in front of her in an instant, pulling her into my arms. “Babe.” I rock her gently as she sobs against me, not really sure what the hell is going on.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters against my shirt, burying her face in my chest.
“Don’t be sorry, baby. Just tell me what’s wrong,” I soothe, my hand grasping the back of her neck as I hold her to me.
“I don’t know,” she admits, pulling back to meet me with a tear stained face. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel…” she pauses, “off.”
“Why do you feel off?”
“I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right.”
“What can I do?” I ask at a loss. I’ve seen Elara cry before, obviously, but this feels different. Maybe because before I understood why she was crying and now I have zero idea what’s going on with her.
“I need a minute,” she says after a long moment, stepping out of my embrace.
“Elara,” I call after her as she crosses toward the window I was standing in front of just moments ago.
“I just need a minute, Kane. Okay? I just need a fucking minute.” She spins toward me, tears streaming down her flushed face.
“What is going on with you?” I ask, making no attempt to go to her, fearing that might make it worse. “What happened? You were fine a few minutes ago. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.”
“I have to get out of here,” she announces abruptly.
With that she crosses the room, shoving past me without meeting my gaze. She’s in the living room before I’ve caught up to her but when she spins toward me it’s no longer sadness and conflict that’s covering her face, it’s pain.
“Elara.” I reach her in seconds. “Baby, what is it?”
“Something’s really not right.” She hits me with panicked eyes, clutching her stomach.
