Elliot and I have been standing in front of Scarlett’s apartment for the past twenty minutes, and it is becoming increasingly clear she is not coming back.

“Try texting her again,” Elliot says, “or calling her.”

“I don’t know what the point is,” I say, “she isn’t picking up. And I’m not just sitting around here anymore.”

“You want to go to The Gutter, see if she’s there?” Elliot asks.

“That’s exactly where I’m going,” I say, “but you are staying here. I don’t want us to miss her. You stay here and wait in case she comes back. I’ll call you when I get to the alley.”

I march across the sidewalk and get into the back seat of the car where our driver is waiting. I don’t know what the hell happened. Maybe she thought we left too fast when we woke up. I wouldn’t blame her for that. I agree with her. We should have explained where the hell we were going. Left a note, something.

“Where are we going, boss?” my driver asks, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.

“The Gutter,” I say, “and get me there fast.”

* * *

I try Scarlett a few more times as we speed down Main Street, but she is not answering. For a girl who is so old-fashioned in some ways, it’s not like her to not answer her phone. She is conscientious and doesn’t like people to worry about her.

But right now, I am worried about her. Elliot has an excellent plan to present to her, but we have to find her first.

We pull into the parking lot. It’s late morning, and people are beginning to show up for a day of good, clean fun. Her shitty car is still parked on the perimeter of the lot near the back of the property.

We drive up to the front and I get out of the car. A group of little boys with a bunch of blue and white balloons squeezes through the front door with their moms. A little girl in a pink princess costume walks in with a bunch of pink balloons. A dozen other kids are holding wrapped gifts in every color of the rainbow, in every pattern, and I laugh at the adorable cacophony of all of it.

Once inside, the place is more crowded than I’ve seen it before. It looks good. It’s vibrant. My eyes scan over the place, up and down the lanes, and I crane my head around the group of kids with the balloons to check the bar to see if she’s there. There’s no one in the bar area, so I walk past the kids, over to where a few long tables are set up next to the snack bar.

And finally I see Scarlett. She’s busy cutting a pizza pie into narrow slices and putting them onto small paper plates, assisted by Carlo. And when she turns her head toward me, it’s like she looks right through me. I don’t know if she can see me, but she looks upset, as though she’s been crying.

“Scarlett!” I call as I walk over. She glances up at me and turns away quickly, grabbing an empty pizza box with two hands and beginning to fold it into smaller and smaller squares.

“Hey Mark,” she says, “what’s up?”

She barely looks at me. I feel my heart clench up as she turns and walks toward the snack bar.

“Scarlett, what’s going on? You don’t work on Sundays.”

“I thought I should come in today,” she replies, tossing the pizza box into a big garbage can. The snack bar area is bright and has shiny white tiles on the three walls that encompass it, and the hard lighting from above illuminate her eyes. She looks hurt, and fragile, and her bright blue eyes are ringed with slick redness. “I’m actually really busy right now. Birthday party.”

She starts past me but I gently take her by the wrist.

“Scarlett, what is the matter?”

She turns her head and looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine. Shaking her head softly, she pulls her hand away.

“It’s nothing,” she says, “it’s really nothing.”

I am fucking confused, and seeing her like this is making my heart clench.

“I’m so sorry if we left too quickly, Scar,” I say after her as she begins to turn. “Is that what’s wrong?”

She chuckles as she walks away from me. I see Carlo over at the kids’ table, filling plastic cups with soda. He flashes a quick, cold glance at me before looking away again.

“Is there something funny?” I ask, grabbing her hand again. “What is funny?”

“Where did you go this morning?” she asks, her expression blank. I try to read her. I try to reason out what the hell is going on in her head. But she is cold, like ice, and she pulls away from me yet again.

“We had to take a meeting,” I explain, “and I’m really sorry. I understand it must have sucked to wake up and not have us there. We should have told you where we were going. It will not happen again. Scout’s honor.”

“You think this is because you weren’t there when I woke up?” she says, her eyebrows knitting together in the center. “I didn’t care about that. I even got breakfast for us and went to your office to surprise you. I didn’t wake up annoyed at you.”

“Then what is it?” I say, taking her face in my hands. I run my thumbs along her cheeks, moving my hands down the smooth, graceful column of her neck. “Just tell me what’s wrong and I will fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” she says, “there’s nothing you can fix.”

She leans into my hands and closes her eyes, exhaling deeply. If I can’t fix what is bothering her, I don’t know what I’ll do.

“I don’t believe you,” I say, “something is clearly very wrong. And whatever it is, I promise I can fix it. Scarlett, just let me know what the hell is going on.”

She looks up at me again and takes a soft step backwards. I see a glimmer of hope inside her eyes, a calmness wash over her, and she suddenly goes cold again. It’s something deep inside her expression, something unnamed, but it’s there. It’s unmistakable, and I feel that I’ve lost her.

That we have lost her.

My eyes are pulled away from her by movement just behind her, and I see Elliot walking over to us quickly.

“She saw the contract,” he says, coming up to us quickly but with caution in his steps. “She saw the revised contract.”

“Shit.”

I take my hands off her her and shake my head.

“Scarlett, that’s where we were this morning,” I say. “That’s where we had to go. Our attorney drove all the way out here on a Sunday morning to tell us that they weren’t happy with the terms of the contract we presented to them.”

Scarlett looks between me and Elliot, shaking her head.

“So you all decided to change it? To cut me out entirely? And the staff?”

“No,” Elliot says, stepping between us, facing her. “No. Not at all. Those changes were made without our consent or knowledge. We were never going to sign that contract. You were never supposed to see it.”

“I don’t understand,” she says. “What is the problem with the original contract?”

“They think we included you because of our feelings for you,” I say, “but that could not be farther from the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I still don’t get it. Why would your feelings have anything to do with me helping you with the business?”

“Our attorneys think we are biased. Because we added you to the contract,” I say. “Someone must have seen us out at the restaurant when we brought you to the City.”

“This is just crazy,” she says, pushing past us gently. She makes her way through the snack bar and into the small galley kitchen hidden behind the counter.

“It’s not true, if that’s what you’re thinking right now. We would have hired you no matter what,” Mark says.

“So what now?” she says, turning to us quickly, her eyes snapping back and forth between us. “You rewrite the contract?”

“No,” I say, taking her shoulders. She looks so beautiful and vulnerable in this moment, as though she is on the edge of something. She is unsure, and she is being careful, but there is still that glimmer of hope inside her eye. That spark that I never want to see go out. And I feel overcome with a strong emotion I have never felt before. It’s the knowledge that she is vulnerable and afraid, and that Elliot and I are able to erase all of that in an instant. And it’s a feeling of reverence for her, and honor, and gratitude that we can give her everything she wants and needs.

It’s love.

“The contract has already been rewritten,” Elliot says. “There is only one major change that we need you to approve.”

He pulls a black folder out from under his arm and presents it to her. She bites her bottom lip and opens it slowly, and her eyes move down it slowly as she scans the first line, and then the next, and then her eyes flash back up to ours.

“Now I really don’t understand,” she says softly.