Page 10 of Somewhere in the Sunset

I manage to hold myself together long enough to have a shower. I pull on a pair of sweats, open up all of the windows in my apartment to breathe in some fresh air, and set a skillet on the stovetop. When I take the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator, however, I gag and immediately abandon the idea of breakfast. Too hungover for that.

It’s after eleven and I still haven’t found my phone, which is a problem. What if Charlotte is trying to reach me? When I woke this morning and reached out for my bedside dresser, my hand didn’t immediately land on my phone. And it’s always there, always charging. My eyes shot open and, in a frenzy, I kicked my sheets around, searched through the pockets of my jeans on the floor, and raided the rest of my apartment. And it’s astudio,so there’s not many places to lose a phone in the first place.

I know I left the club with it, because I ordered an Uber. So, if my phone isn’t here, then there’s only two places itcanbe.

In the Uber, or in that girl’s apartment.

God, that girl from last night. I can’t even remember her name, that’s how drunk I was, but I am haunted by the fact that I hugged her. How pathetic is that? I want to die every time I think about it. What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t watch her head into that building, alone and heartbroken, when she specifically asked me to walk her to her door.

Because I never walked Charlotte to her door. I’d drop her at the curb, kiss her goodbye in the car. And when I analyze every wrong action of mine that led to losing her, self-loathing fills me when I realize I would never even wait until she got to the door of her building. I would just drive off. I don’t think I even glanced back a lot of the time.

So maybe that’s what last night was about. A chance to learn from my mistakes.

But that hug. Fuck, that hug. I needed it.

And now I have to go back there.

Between being too hungover to drive and not being willing to maneuver my car out of the parking garage, I find myself on foot in search of my phone. I may not remember her name, but I know exactly which building she lives in. It’s in Hayes Valley, which just so happens to also be a neighborhood within the division I’m stationed at for my field training, so I am used to working the beat on these exact streets. When we pulled up outside her place in the Uber, I recognized it. I’d been there a few weeks prior to take a report.

The skies are clear, the sun is out, but of course there’s a breeze. I walk with my hands stuffed in the front pocket of my hoodie and when I pass Zeitgeist en route, I think of Adam. He’s predictable. He’ll wake this morning (feeling absolutely fine), and instantly regret all the dumb shit he said and did. He’ll text and apologize. Blame it on the tequila. And I’ll forgive him, like I always do. Maybe I’m also predictable.

I find the apartment building. It’s luxurious as hell. Modern and purpose-built, some apartments with floor-to-ceiling windows, some with balconies.Expensive.I linger by one of the entrance doors and as soon as someone leaves, I slip through into the courtyard. It’s well maintained, with a shit ton of shrubbery that most of the apartments overlook, and I flag down a lady heading to the fitness center behind me. Why doesn’t my building have its own gym?

“Morning,” I say. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for someone. A woman in her early twenties. She lives in this building, but definitely not on the first floor.” I remember we took the elevator, but where the hell did we get off? I glance up, counting. There’s only five floors.

The lady laughs. “You might need to be a bit more specific.”

What the hell happened to my observation skills? It’s one of the most important things I’ve been taught in training so far – memorizing every minute detail of every person I encounter. Their distinguishing features, the clothes they’re wearing, their height and weight. But I couldn’t even tell you what color hair the girl I’m looking for has.

“She’s shorter than me,” I say, scratching my head. She folded into my body with ease, fitting perfectly against my chest. “And she lives here with her boyfriend, but they just broke up.”

“I think every woman in this building is shorter than you,” the lady says with a smile, and then pats me sympathetically on the shoulder. “I hope you find her.”

As she heads into the gym and I contemplate just buying a whole new phone, a voice calls out, “Are you talking about Gracie Taylor by any chance? And Luca Hartmann?”

I spin around. It’s the maintenance guy for the building, so of course I can count on him to know all of its residents.Gracie.It settles inside of me, warm with familiarity. “Yes. I think so. Can you tell me which apartment she’s in?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t give out that information,” he says with an apologetic shrug. “Privacy concerns.”

I nod. I’d be concerned if hedidgive out a young woman’s apartment number to a complete stranger who has wandered into the building complex, so I get it. He continues on through the courtyard, and I wonder how long it would take me to search every floor. Maybe I would recognize her apartment door if I saw it.

“Weston?”

I start at the sound of my name. It doesn’t feel like mine. I turn around and she’s standing several feet away from me, rooted to the spot and terrified to come any closer. Fuck, she remembers my name, and that’s a lot more than I remember about her.

I memorize her now, like I should have done last night. Hair that’s copper in the sunlight, bangs framing her face, the rest pulled back. Freckles. A whole load of them, scattered over her nose and cheeks. Lashes so long I’m convinced they’re not natural. She is even shorter than I remembered, and I’m amazed at the grocery bags bundled in her arms. If she’s managed to hit up the market already, then clearly she can handle her booze better than I can.

“You seem to be feeling a whole lot better than I do this morning,” I say, hoping to break the ice.

But the ice remains solid.

She continues to stare at me, emotionless. “Are you here to get your phone?”

I let out an audible sigh of relief. “I don’t even remember setting it down.”

“Well, you did, and I have it.”

“I’m sorry if it’s been ringing off the hook. I’ve been waiting for a call back.”

---