Thief .(43)

“This one’s been open for twenty-four hours,” he said, referring to the apartment behind him. “We have a waiting list. Have to make it ready for next tenants.”

Twenty-four hours? Where did she go? Did she leave right away? Did something scare her away?

I ran a hand through my hair. I’d left her just two days earlier to go settle my affairs. I danced with her in the parking lot before I left. She tried to tell me the truth, but I stopped her. When she found out about the amnesia, she’d think of every possible reason to run from me. I’d planned on locking her in the apartment, making love to her again and convincing her that we could make it work. But, first I had loose ends to tie up.

I’d left Olivia and gone straight to Leah’s townhouse. When she opened the door, I could tell she’d been crying. It took me thirty minutes to break her heart. It hurt me to do it. She had done nothing to deserve what I was doing to her. I told her I’d met someone. She didn’t ask who, though I suspected she knew since she’d followed me to Olivia’s apartment a few weeks earlier. Before I left, I kissed her forehead. I didn’t tell her about the amnesia. I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had.

I went to my condo next. As I stood under the shower, I thought of our week together. I thought of the orange grove, the way she tasted, the way her skin felt like cold satin beneath my fingers. When my mind went to that first moment of being inside her, the way her eyes had widened and her lips had parted, I had to blast myself with cold water.

She’d given me everything — everything she’d held back before. She was different. She was also the same. Stubborn, defiant … full of lies.

I tried to break her before. Now, I just wanted her as she was. I wanted every last beautiful flaw. I wanted the witty one-liners and the coldness that only I knew how to warm. I wanted the fight and the friction and the make-up sex. I wanted her to wake up in my bed every morning. I wanted her shitty cooking and her beautiful, complex mind.

I’d gone back on everything I believed, to be with her. I threw truth out the window. I was so afraid she’d forget about me, I’d lied to sneak back into her life. Now, I had inordinate amounts of explaining to do.

I looked at Miguel. He suddenly seemed like my last remaining tie to her.

“Did she leave anything? A note … anything?”

Miguel rubbed the back of his neck. “No, man.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

He sucked his teeth. “I’m just maintenance. They don’t exactly give me a forwarding address.” He looked around to make sure we were alone. “But, if she did leave something it would be in this black garbage bag, which I’m going to set right here while I do a run-through of the apartment.”

He dropped the bag on the floor and gave me a look before stepping back into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

I picked it up, weighed it in my hand. It was light. Had she left me something, telling me where she’d gone? Had Jim come back and scared her off? Had he told her? I knelt down and turned the bag over, dumping its contents on the concrete. I was sweating and my hands were damp as I sifted through the trash. Ripped up papers, broken glass, crushed flower petals … what was I looking for? A letter? Olivia would never write me a letter. It wasn’t her style. This was her style — leaving me without notice, throwing me in the fire to burn. I tossed the bag. Half of my heart was breaking; the other half was hell fucking angry. As the bag fluttered to the ground, I heard the slight tinkering of something hitting the floor. My eyes scanned the concrete, desperate for anything that would lead me to her.

I found it lying between my feet.

A penny.

Had she left it for me, or had she just left it? I picked it up, held it between my fingers. The once shiny surface had the slightly green tinge of aging copper. This was her goodbye? I felt anger and more than anger, I felt confusion. What had I done? The orange grove, the kiss in the parking lot before I left. I’d been so sure of what I felt for her … what she felt for me. There was no way Olivia would have given herself to me if she wasn’t sure of us. Then why? WHY?

I walked to the edge of the parking lot and lifted my fist, the penny pressing against my palm. Toss it, I told myself. My muscles tensed to throw it.

I couldn’t do it. My hand dropped to my side. I put the penny in my pocket and drove home.





She drives me to my car just as the sun starts to come up. Neither of us wanted to leave, but we were both afraid that Bernie would decide to come into the office on a Saturday.

“You’re going to get depressed later,” I tell her when we pull into the Fossy parking lot. “You’ll hate yourself and have a good cry, and then you’ll go to the grocery store and buy ice cream. Don’t.”