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“Evan offered me his sister’s phone number, but I never wrote—”
“Yes!” I yell out, hopping up from my seat and wobbling with my throbbing toe into my kitchen. To the first drawer in on the left side of our island. “How could I forget, Crystal?”
“Spit it out already, Mimi. Just tell me,” she growls, annoyed by my sudden squeals of joy. Crystal doesn’t understand what this means. That we now have a line of communication.
“I have his parents’ telephone number. Nick gave me a way to contact them before he left in case of an emergency…wrote it down himself.” Placing my hand over the small notebook, I take in a few deep breaths and center myself.
“Christ,” she breathes out, and I can almost literally feel some of the tension drain from her. “Give me twenty to get there. I have to be there when you call.”
The call disconnects after that, and I wait. And wait…
Make coffee.
Load the dryer.
Reach my ten thousand steps for the day on my Fitbit before she arrives. Her car is barely parked when she clambers out and rushes up the steps to my front door.
Before it connects, though, I pry it open, almost causing her to stumble. “Ass,” she grumbles, and I laugh, ignoring the disgruntled look and the hand on the casing holding her up.
Instead, I roll my eyes while flipping her off. “Hurry up, chica. I’m nervous and excited—need some answers pronto.”
“Amen.” Chrissy follows me into the kitchen and pours herself a cup of coffee. She has a mug here and a bottle of French Vanilla creamer that only she uses. I like mine with coconut anything. Taking both, she sips and points at my phone. “Call.”
“I’m going.” Opening the notebook to the first page, I finger his handwriting at the very top. My heart warms when I see what looks more like chicken scratch than cursive. How anyone can understand this amazes me. Another thing I love about him. To be honest, it’s endearing to see the hot mess he can be when writing.
Some are blessed with legible penmanship, but he’s not one.
His mother’s information is there and in bold…
Caroline Adams
Work-
Cell-
Home-
Email-
“I’m nervous,” I say after a few minutes of just staring at the grouping of numbers. “What if—”
“Babe…” Chrissy interrupts, coming to stand beside me, bumping her shoulder with mine “…the sooner we know, the faster we can act. No matter what, we will face this and get them home as soon as possible.”
“Together?”
“Always.”
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “All right, let’s get this over with.” Dialing the number for her cell, I place the phone between us on the countertop and wait. It rings a few times, and just when I think she won’t pick up, there’s an audible click…
“Hello?” There’s so much noise around her, sounds like a million and one voices responding at once. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“H-hi, is this Mrs. Caroline Adams?”
“This is she.” A male voice asks who’s calling, but she doesn’t reply. Instead, she moves a little away from whatever hustle and bustle she’s in the middle of. In the distance I hear a flight being called and that boarding is now available. Are they leaving the country to see him? “May I ask who’s calling?”
“Hi, my name is Mila and—”
“Nick’s Mila?” No surprise or doubt about who I am. Nicholas spoke about me to them, and I can’t stop the goofy grin from forming on my face.
