Page 275 of Remy

He doesn’t acknowledge the sound. Instead, he keeps staring at me as if I’ve hung the moon.

“Are you going to answer that?” I ask.

“It can wait.”

“It’s okay.” I reach into his pocket to pull out the cell and hand it over. “We’re almost done here.”

He takes the device and answers the call, his free hand lowering to squeeze my thigh in a silent gesture of appreciation. “Hey, Lorenzo.”

“Figlio,” the voice murmurs in greeting. “Are you with your Olivia?”

I lower my gaze, trying to hide the joy that crosses my face whenever I’m referenced in such an addictively anti-feminist manner.

“Yeah, she’s right here. Why?”

“You might want to kindly ask her to reach out to her friends and let them know she’s all right. I’ve received a call from a local police informant that an Ivy Diaz has attempted to file a missing person’s report and has made mention of our family being responsible for the disappearance.”

“Oh, shit.” I push off the bench.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I left from the wake yesterday without saying goodbye. Ivy and Allison must be in hysterics.

“My phone,” I rasp as I run from the room, trying to remember where I left it. I check Allison’s desk, then my prep room, finally finding it on the kitchen counter in the staff break room.

Eighteen missed calls.

Twenty-six text messages.

Eight insta DMs.

All from Ivy in less than twenty-four hours.

“Oh, God, I’m the worst.” I dial her number, my heart in my throat as the call connects.

“Liv?” she asks in panic.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t handle the wake yesterday so I left, but I didn’t take my cell. I should’ve called?—”

“It’s okay.” Her voice is fragile. “Where are you?”

“At work. I wanted to take care of?—”

“Are you safe?” She cuts me off again.

“Yes. And I’m doing well.” The statement shocks me, but it’s the truth. Remy has salvaged my worst days and turned them into something I can cherish. “Are you okay?”

She’s quiet a moment, the sound of traffic carrying through the speaker. “Yeah. I’m good. I just?—”

“That’s enough.”

I stiffen at the muffled male voice murmuring across the line.

“Ive?” I hedge. “Are you with someone?”

“No one important.” Her voice is off, that uncomfortable edge still present despite the assurances I’m okay.

I turn in search of Remy, finding him walking into the break room. I rush for him and his hands immediately claim my hips, his gaze questioning.

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