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I look uncomfortably at Julian, who appears amused with the turn of conversation.
“I gotta go. Kiss my son for me, okay?”
She whispers into the speaker, “You better tell me what’s going on when Lex is gone. You’re hiding something.”
I say my goodbyes and hang up letting out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, that took longer than expected.”
“You shouldn’t apologize for wanting to speak to your son.”
“Yeah, I know, but you know with Lex and Charlie…”
“Look, it’s been a long day for both of us. I’m going to call it a night.”
He stands, but before leaving, he bends down and plants a kiss on my lips. I want him to stay, but I don’t want our night to end on a bad note like last night. He makes it quick, and is out of the room in a flash, leaving me alone again.
I move toward the nightstand and pick up his book. Continuing to read, I lose myself in his words, clutching onto his hopes and dreams, his fears and nightmares as if they are my own. With every page I turn, I find myself more astounded by his talent. He’s going to be an international bestseller, no doubt about it.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, I take in his final words, shutting the book as I let it all sink in. What the hell am I doing? I feel intimated by his intelligence and the life he’s lived so far. I haven’t done half the things he’s done, traveling across the world, helping those suffering. What have I done? I create fashion and live in a material world. He gives his shoes to poor villagers and walks a mile just to fetch a bucket of water for the sick.
It all feels so insignificant, I feel insignificant. My goals and my dreams pale into nothingness compared to his.
I lay in bed wide awake, unable to shut off my brain. I grab my cell to text him. It seems to be the only way to relay my thoughts without word-vomiting.
Me: I finished reading. I am speechless, yes me. I can’t believe how talented you are.
Minutes go by with no response. When the screen lights up the room, I rush to read the text.
Julian: Thank you. And the inscription?
I think about his question. I want to pour my heart out to him and tell him how terrified I am of losing him, how my heart is confused and how much I want to admit I feel the same way, but the guilt consumes me whole and leaves me voiceless. Instead, my insecurities get the better of me.
Adriana: Why did your mood change after that phone call?
I wait and wait, with no response. I fall asleep to wake with the sun rising and the beep of my cell.
Julian: It’s your last day here, Adriana. Let’s just enjoy the day.
I’m hurt by his comment. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. I hate the fact I automatically jump to conclusions.
The same broken record playing over and over inside my head.
I’m not worthy.
And maybe because he is still in love with Charlie.
Here’s the thing about time zones—they suck more than a two-dollar whore.
I’m wide awake at this godforsaken hour, dressed and fed with nowhere to go. The sound of the street sweepers and garbage trucks can be faintly heard in the distance, and the sun is barely peeking beyond the horizon. As soon as the light floods my room, I make my way out to inspect the shop front, my sole purpose for coming all the way to Sydney, or so I told everyone.
Kenny, the realtor, is very accommodating and takes me through several properties. Each has their own unique quality, but I’m not convinced I’ve found the perfect spot. That is until he shows me a space in a popular area called Paddington. According to Kenny, Oxford Street is notorious for upmarket boutiques and is a popular shopping district for locals and tourists. The shop itself is gorgeous. So gorgeous, I can imagine my couture gowns showcased in the window.
Within the hour, I have a copy of the contract in my hand ready for Charlie to read over.
It’s almost midday by the time I finish, and much to my disappointment, Julian hasn’t called. Okay, seriously, why didn’t I just call him? Within seconds, I ring his cell praying he will answer.
“Hey,” he greets mildly.
“Hey, I thought we were going out today?”
