Brock

“Mr. Evans. Let me introduce you to my colleagues. Aaron Smith and Matthew Williams,” says Mark Casey, the CEO of Casey Technologies.

They look at me with expectation in their eyes. I shake their hands in a rush, exasperated already by the slow tempo of Mark Casey’s speech.

“I’m so sorry, gentlemen. I’ve got an emergency on my hands, and we’ll have to reschedule,” I say, glancing out the hotel entrance.

Mark Casey is talking, but I don’t even care what he’s saying.

I can’t see Nina from where I’m standing, but if I run outside now, I may be able to catch up with her and explain everything. It’s not too late. I can fix this.

“. . . unacceptable. My schedule is completely packed, and Aaron here flew all the way from the New York office for this meeting—”

“I’m sorry. I really have to go,” I say, cutting off Mark Casey and stepping away from the men.

“Mr. Evans!” one of the men shouts, but I’m already making my way out the door.

I’ll deal with them later. They need this deal as much as we do. They’ll reschedule if they really want to make this happen.

Besides, even if I went ahead with the meeting, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. My brain is screaming out Nina’s name over and over again, overriding everything else.

She’s all that matters right now. I can’t have her thinking I’m cheating on her. I’ve been cheated on before, and I know it hurts like a motherfucker. The last thing I want to do is hurt Nina.

Every cell in my body is telling me to run to her, to pull her into my arms and tell her I love her, wipe away her tears and beg her not to cry.

Fuck. I made Nina cry.

“Wow.” Rosa’s voice. I forgot about her.

God, I hate her. I hate her so fucking much.

I use my anger as fuel, running out down the hotel driveway and toward the main street.

Rosa’s designer heels click against the asphalt, her voice shrill between gasps as she runs to keep up with me. “I can’t believe you just walked away like that from a meeting. They were big shots, Brock. Daddy introduced them at a party one night. And that Mark Casey is so hot.”

“Leave me alone, Rosa. I swear to God, I want to hit someone in the face right now.”

“Ooh, threats of violence. I’ve got to say, you’re looking kind of hot right now, Brock. You’re always so sexy when you’re angry,” Rosa comments, her voice light and breezy, as if we were just having a casual conversation and she hadn’t just ruined my day.

“Fuck off.”

“You know, you’re looking hotter and hotter by the second to me, Brock. But I should tell you, that’s not a very nice thing to say,” Rosa says—no doubt she’s pouting, but I’ve got my eyes ahead of me, searching for Nina.

I want to blame Rosa, but that was my fault too. I should’ve known Rosa would have a surprise up her sleeve. She wouldn’t have shown up out of the blue with no plan.

Fuck. Where could Nina be?

“So, it’s your fiancée you’re looking for, huh?” Rosa asks. How does she manage to keep talking when she’s obviously out of breath? “This girl must be pretty important. You used to cancel our dates whenever you were busy with work. Maybe that was why I slept with Rob. I was lonely. You know, I was hoping you’d try to stop my wedding—that would’ve been so dramatic. I’d tell you in front of everyone I wouldn’t leave Rob, of course. But I’d still see you in secret, and we could still do stuff together. Doesn’t that sound so exciting?”

My resolve not to grab Rosa by the shoulders and shake her out of whatever delusional world she lives in is weakening.

That’s when I spot Peter, standing on the sidewalk, one arm hailing a cab to a stop.

Oh, no, you don’t.

I run faster until I can’t hear Rosa anymore. I grab Nina’s ex by the collar just as he’s about to step inside the cab.

“Please don’t hit me,” Peter begs, his voice shaky. Fucking loser.

“Where’s Nina?” I shake him.

“I don’t know.”

“You were here with her weren’t you? Where did she go?” I ask.

Then, realization dawns on me.

I’ve been wondering what Nina was doing here. She’s supposed to be downtown, sending a package at the post office.

Rosa’s here. Peter’s here.

I don’t know how, but I realized somehow our two exes are in this together.

That sounds crazy, but it’s exactly the kind of thing Rosa would come up with. And Peter seems desperate enough to do anything if Rosa could convince him it would get Nina back into his arms.

As if I’d ever let that happen.

“Where did she go?” I yell at Peter.

“I don’t know,” he repeats. I’m about to pull my fist back to hit him when he adds, “She jumped into a cab. I don’t know where she was going. I was going to follow her.”

Pushing Peter into the cab, I join him on the backseat and yank the door shut. “Where was she going? Tell the driver.”

“I . . . I don’t know. It took me a while to flag down a cab, and I lost sight of her,” Peter says in a pathetic voice.

“I don’t want any trouble,” the cab driver warns. “If you guys are going to fight, don’t do it in my cab. I don’t want to spend half my day dealing with the cops.”

“There won’t be any cops. There won’t be any trouble,” I say.

But Peter flinches when I speak, and that hasn’t escaped the driver’s attention.

He watches us through the rearview mirror.  “You need to get out of my cab. Both of you. I don’t want to deal with the cops, but I’ll call them if you don’t leave.”

Fuck.

There’s no point arguing with the driver, so I rush back to the front steps of the hotel, leaving Peter and Rosa behind.

I slip the valet a twenty-dollar bill and tell him to get my car right away. It still takes him way too long, though.

Sitting behind the wheel of my car, I peel away from the hotel and dart toward the main street, ignoring Rosa, who’s standing barefoot by the side of the hotel driveway, her shoes dangling from her fingers as she screams out my name.

Where should I go? Where could Nina be?

I dial Tessa’s number, my heart galloping. The dial tone ends with a click and for a hopeful moment I think she’s picking up, but then I hear a robotic voice instead. “The customer you are calling is unavailable at the moment. Please try again later or leave a message after the beep.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I head to Tessa’s apartment and call the office—kill two birds with one stone. But the InFini receptionist tells me Tessa hasn’t returned, and as much as I buzz her apartment, Nina’s not answering.

Standing in front of her apartment building, I text her.

I pace around and keep buzzing her apartment. Damn it, I don’t even know if she’s home. She could be anywhere.

I stare at my phone, willing it to show me a text from Nina, but nothing happens—except for a text from Rosa popping up. I don’t have time to even read it.

I type another message.

Even as I fire off the text, I realize how clichéd it sounds. I’ve heard cheaters in the movies say the exact same words before, and I’m sure Nina has, too.

I dial her number again and hear the automated message. I wait for the beep.

“Nina, it’s me. I know it looked bad, but it wasn’t what it seemed. Please, Nina, let me explain. Rosa, she forced herself on me. She planned this whole thing. She wants to destroy us. This is exactly the kind of thing she does.” I realize, even as I speak, how lame I sound, how crazy my explanation seems. “Please call me back, or text me. We need to talk, face to face. Let me know where you are and I’ll come straight to you. Nina, I’d never hurt you. You know that, right? I love you. I really need to talk to you. So please . . . call me back.”

Not knowing what else to say, I hang up.

Fuck.

That was the lamest voicemail ever.

If I were her, I wouldn’t call me back.