Falling for the Ghost of You(16)

When I come back out into the living room, Jane stares at me hopefully. I force a smile and nod. “She said yes.”

She sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God! Okay, I’ve got to order my ticket online, and pack and everything. Honey, do you think you could book the flight for me? My credit card is in my purse—use the business one, though. I don’t think I have room for a ticket on my other ones.”

“Sure, no problem.”

I secure a one way flight for her from here to Atlanta, leaving at seven-fifty tonight—in five hours. Jane runs around frantically, packing her bags and worrying about her daughter. I try to stay out of her way, doing whatever she asks of me.

Finally, she is packed and ready for me to drive her to the airport. She checks her purse anxiously, making sure she has everything.

“I gave you a key, right?” she asks again as we head out the door.

“Yep."

"Okay. I called Linda from next door to check on my apartment and water my plants, so you don't have to worry about that. Oh—could you do something with all the perishable in the fridge? Take 'em with you, or give them away."

"Okay. And relax, I’ll take care of everything over here, and if you forget something, I can always mail it over to you.”

“Right, right.” Jane exhales loudly. “Poor Emmy. She was crying so hard over the phone.”

I pat her hand. “She’ll feel better once she has you there with her.”

“Yes. Violet, I’m so sorry! Please tell Lily that I’ll make this up to her somehow.”

“No, don’t worry about anything,” I cut her off swiftly. “I’ll be fine. Lauren and I will have one extended sleepover—it’ll be great. But do me a favor—don’t mention any of this to Mom. She’ll just worry.”

Jane tugs on a loose curl. “You’re right. I won’t even tell her about Emmy. Knowing her, she’d fly straight to Atlanta to help out. But, gosh, I hate lying to her.”

“It will be fine,” I say firmly as I start the car. “Mom will have the fun she deserves, you’ll be taking care of your daughter, and I’ll be safe with Lauren. It will all work out.”

I wish I could believe my own words, considering I’ve just made myself homeless.

I find myself at the airport for the second time in two days. With one last hug and a reminder to lock up before I leave, Jane hurries off toward her gate.

Okay, now what? I can buy maybe a day or two alone at the apartment, but that's it. Maybe I could hide in the closet every time Jane's neighbor came over to check on things?

Yeah, I can definitely see that going badly when the neighbor decides to get nosy and opens the door—ending with me being arrested for something.

What am I going to do?

I call Lauren for real this time to see if she has any ideas. She tries to ask her mom if I can stay over, even for a few days, but her mom freaks out on her, so that's a no.

"What are you gonna do?" Lauren wants to know.

"I don't know," I reply, trying not to let the panic creep into my voice. "I'll think of something."

I hang up with Lauren, then I flop down on Jane's couch, scrolling through my pitifully short list of contacts for ideas.

I stop on the last name. A tiny seed of hope sprouts in my chest. But did I dare call him?

Do I have a choice?



I don't call. I decide to just show up. I don't know. Somewhere in my head I get the idea that it will be harder to turn me down if I show up on his doorstep with my suitcases and a sad panda face.

Am I really doing this?

I am.

I've been by the house once before, when Mom gave me a quick tour.

Bill's new house (our house, too) is a sprawling mansion with a private drive, and a stone fountain in the courtyard. I think it looks like a Mediterranean villa, with the red tiled rooftops and the big gleaming windows. Inside is just as gorgeous. I love the vaulted ceilings and the elegant curving staircase. Also, the house has seven bedrooms and eight bathrooms!

I can't even picture me and Mom living there. What would we do with all that space?

But those are happy thoughts for another day.

I pull around back to where the pool house is located, next to the Olympic sized pool, of course.

Slowly, I get out of my car, more and more unsure about my plan. Should I bring a suitcase to look more pathetic? No, that's dumb. If he says no, I'll feel ridiculous. Maybe I should just go.

No, I can't. I don't have anywhere to go. If he says no, I'm screwed.

The pool house is a cute little home matching the style of the main house. It looks smaller than I remember, and I just pray it has more than one room.

The lights are on. He's home. Taking a deep breath, I knock briskly on the door. And I wait.