Something had happened to make her ghost me, and I had no idea what it could be. Before I left for California, I thought she understood why I had to go. She’d spent the night with me, we had the same amazing sex we always did, and the next morning, she gave me a kiss goodbye that promised more to come when I got back.
Why wouldn’t she have just been honest with me if she was that angry about me going? She had every opportunity to either tell or show me how she really felt.
I shook my head. That couldn’t be it. Something else had to have happened. I called my mom.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she said, answering my call.
“I have to ask you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“You didn’t tell Sloane’s parents I’m her baby’s father, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t. You know I wouldn’t do that, which means you have a good reason for asking.”
“I went on a quick work trip. When I left, I thought everything was okay between us, but I haven’t been able to reach her since that morning.”
“Landry, you don’t think something’s happened to her, do you?”
“No, I mean, someone I know saw her yesterday, and she was fine.”
“Where did this person see her?”
“She was with Ben and Carolina.”
“I see. And you can’t very well ask them, can you?”
“I don’t think I have any choice.”
“I will do this once, Landry, but only once.”
“Do what?”
“I’ll pay them a visit and see if I can find anything out.”
“Mom, don’t—”
“I will not tell them a thing. I’ll just casually ask after her. I have to talk to Carolina about the plans for Knox’s engagement party anyway.”
“Are you going?”
“Of course we are. We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Who’s we?”
“Your father and me? Remember him?”
“I can’t believe Dad agreed to go.”
“It’s in New York City, Landry. We’re making a week of it.”
“Are Sloane’s parents too?”
“I don’t know, darling, but it’s the excuse I’m using to pay them a visit.”
Not knowing what else to do with myself, I drove to the Chestnut Hill house. Maybe I’d find some clue as to what was going on with Sloane.
I’d been sitting on the porch, staring off at nothing for at least a half hour when my phone rang.
“Hey, Mom.”
“They know you’re the father, Landry. Evidently, Sloane told them. They don’t seem upset about it, but they didn’t see the need to keep up any pretenses.”
“Is she okay?”
“They didn’t say otherwise.”
“Did you ask?”
“No, I completely forgot. Of course I asked, Landry.”
“Okay, sorry.”
“One thing happened that seemed odd.”
“What’s that?”
“Carolina walked me to the door and said it’s time we all went out for Italian again. And then she suggested we make a night of it and go back to Dominici in the North End.”
“Why is that odd?”
“Two things, unless I’m losing my memory, we’ve never eaten at Dominici either with the Clarksons or alone.”
“What’s the other thing?”
“Carolina was whispering when she said it. She even looked over her shoulder once as though she was checking to see if Ben could hear her.”
When I was still wide awake at four in the morning, I figured I might as well drive to Little Italy.
31
Sloane
When I opened my eyes, I knew I was on the floor. Otherwise, nothing looked familiar to me. Something was wrong, really wrong. I had to get to my phone, but I couldn’t remember where I’d left it.
I tried to raise my head, but God, it hurt. My head was throbbing—pounding—so hard it was impossible to think.
Cramps. It wasn’t just my head; my stomach hurt as well. The cramping was so bad that I tried to wrap my arms around my midsection, but they felt so heavy.
I inched one hand down and felt something damp. What was that? I looked. Blood. The baby.
Oh my God, the baby.
“Help!” I tried to shout, knowing there was no one close enough to hear me.
32
Tackle
I’d been walking for almost two hours with absolutely no idea of what I hoped to find. I concentrated my efforts on the block where the Dominici restaurant was located, but traipsed around neighboring streets too.
One by one, coffee shops and bakeries were rolling up their steel gates, turning on lights, and dragging tables and chairs out to the sidewalk. I checked my phone. It was almost six: the time most of them officially opened.
Even if the bizarre conversation my mother had had with Carolina meant that Sloane was staying somewhere near Dominici, I had no idea how I’d be able to find her.
I stared up at the buildings surrounding me. Each one was filled with either office suites or luxury apartments above the street-level shops. Each might have as many as a hundred living spaces, particularly the ones with thirty stories or more.
“Sloane, where the hell are you?” I muttered out loud, scanning the high-rises as if she’d come out on the balcony of one and I’d spot her.
“You’re too early if you’re looking for Sloane,” said a kid sweeping the sidewalk in front of a coffeehouse.
“You know somebody by that name?”
“Really pretty, stomach out to here?” The kid, who couldn’t be more than ten or eleven, held his hand out in front of him.
Rather than respond, I took the photo I’d brought with me out of my pocket. “This her?” I asked, handing it to him.
“Yep. That’s Sloane.”
“Have you seen her?”
“I did the last two days.”
“Where?”
“Here,” the kid said, laughing as he swept dirt onto the street. “Comes down for breakfast, but not until later.”
“What time?”
He shrugged. “Not before nine or ten, after the morning rush is over.”
“You said she comes downstairs. Does she live in this building?”
“Anthony!” a man yelled.
“I gotta go. See ya, mister.”
“Hey, wait!” I was too late. The kid was inside with the door closed behind him.
I waited another twenty minutes and went into the shop.
“Buongiorno,” said an older woman, who didn’t look quite tall enough to see over the counter. “What can I get you this morning?”
“Un caffè, per
