Outside, Walter heads straight for the bushes to do his business. Everything is probably fine. This is all in my head. Get a grip, man.
Only, my stomach tightens with worry that something isn’t right. I won’t be able to relax until she’s back home tonight. Maybe then I can convince her to stay, forever if I’m lucky.
After a quick walk around the block to clear my head, I head back inside the condo lobby with a worn out Walter. The full day of work ahead provides the distraction to stop obsessing over Rachel. My mind busies as I tally my list of tasks to complete.
“Morning, Mr. Lawrence. Morning, Walter.” One of the security guards, Robert, lifts his hand in a wave from his perch behind the desk. That reminds me. Rachel’s car.
“Morning, Robert. Has the car been delivered?”
“Yes, sir.” He nods. “Everything handled just as you asked.”
“Good.” I brace a hand on the edge of the desk. Might as well pick up the keys while I’m down here. Walter does a one-and-a-half rotation turn, curling up at my feet as if he expects I will be awhile. I tap my fingers, a twinge of impatience at the fact Robert makes no move to hand over the keys. I glance over the lip of the desk, searching for an envelope marked with my name. “By any chance did you see Miss Delgado leave this morning?”
“Yeah, she—” Robert nods his head, his features tightening with a little frown.
My apprehension is back. Damn it. I knew something wasn’t right. “Did she—?” Look upset? Thoroughly fucked?—“seem her usual self?”
“She did.” He regards me a moment, as if unsure what I’m asking. Rightfully so, since I don’t know how to ask for the information I really need. “She picked up her keys and I saw her out.”
Oh. Shit. My stomach drops, dips, and twists. “Her car?”
“Yes, the LeSabre,” he says slowly. “It was delivered, as you arranged, and then she came to get the keys.”
“The keys.” My brain short circuits. There must be something wrong with my ears. How could Rachel get the keys, or know her car would be here waiting? We never spoke about it. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. She knows.
“Mr. Lawrence.” Robert shifts uncomfortably. “Her license matched the registration. Should I have phoned you first?”
“Tell me exactly what happened.” I keep my tone even, but I’m barely able to contain my displeasure. My fingers curl into fists. None of this makes sense. “Details are important.”
Like a detective relentlessly in pursuit of a culprit, I make Robert recount every single word exchanged. From the moment her car was delivered, to the second she drove off. The entire exchange went down in less than ten minutes, and after he’s related everything multiple times I’m more confused than before. How could she have known? Did she all along? Nothing adds up.
I glance at my phone, still no reply. I consider calling her again, but something stops me. For the first time I have to consider that I’ve totally fucked any chance I had at a relationship with Rachel. What have I done?
46
Rachel
I arrive at Americana much too early, but can’t think of anywhere else to go. My mind is reeling from this morning. I can’t believe he kept Iron Maiden from me! As much as I want an explanation, I also don’t want to know the answer. This weekend was damn near perfect, but in the morning light, my memories are tainted in deceit and lies.
With at least an hour to kill, I head to the café across from the studios. I’d head onto set early, but the last thing I want is to make small talk about my weekend. I don’t trust myself, or my emotional state.
I need to immerse myself in work today. That’ll be my only focus, and I’ll sort the rest out after. I step into the busy café and find a seat near the window after ordering a coffee. My phone alarm blasts through the room, catching the attention of more than a few people. My regular wake-up alarm. I silence it and shove it into my bag. How different would this morning have been if I’d just stayed in bed? I never would have met Ryan, or witnessed my car’s return. Was the early morning delivery all part of Jude’s plan of deception? My stomach dips and turns at the thought.
I pick up my coffee for a long, soothing sip, attempting to find some peace when a familiar face enters the café. It’s Jenni, and she’s with a few other equally gorgeous actors. A few I recognize; they must be from the show she’s filming. I slink back into my seat, hoping she won’t notice I’m here.
No such luck. “Rae! Hey, girl!” Her party is led to a table across the crowded room, but instead of following them, she heads my way.
“Hey.” I infuse brightness into my voice, but I’m not sure it works.
“Hey.” Jenni eyes the open seat at my table, biting the edge of her lip. Her voice is low and soft, the kind you use to calm an upset animal. “Mind if I sit a minute?”
My spine prickles with unease. “Sure.” I straighten in my seat.
“How crazy is this? We keep running into each other.” She laughs lightly, but her movements are stiff with discomfort.
Maybe my face is doing a poor job of hiding how horrible I feel. “It’s great.” I try for genuine. “Those are your co-stars?”
“Oh, yeah.” She waves in their general direction. “I should actually get back over there. We have to be on set soon. But, it’s just, well, I think there’s something I should tell you.”
Something with the other roommates? My stomach clenches at the idea of more bad news. I’m not sure how much more I can take. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want you to get offended, or hate me, or whatever.” She holds up her hands, her eyes darting from me to
