Page 29 of The Unraveling

I don’t have time to process just how profound and deeply comforting that thought is, because we both suddenly jerk our heads toward the sound of a key in the lock of the front door.

“Shit,” says Arabella, who jumps to action, throwing the bags and suitcase in the closet and then stuffing me in, too, following and shutting the door just in time.

I brace myself, looking through the slats, unsure just how I’ll feel seeing Jordan. Especially now, after realizing he’s moved on to another girl already.

But it’s not Jordan.

It’s a woman.

Arabella puts a supportive hand on my bare thigh. The faint hairs stand on end and I stay frozen.

The woman looks around for a moment and then pulls out her phone. After a few rings, she says, “Okay, where the hell are they? Your place is a mess.”

He’s on speaker, so I hear Jordan say, “Fuck you! It’s not usually a mess. It’s ever since you’ve been around.”

“Whatever.” She laughs. “Asshole. Okay, where?”

“They’re in the bedroom in a velvet box full of tie stays and things like that. Emerald and gold, and they’re probably just loose in there.”

She comes into the bedroom, and Arabella and I go even more still. Jesus, this is like a movie.

I know from the description that she’s looking for the cuff links he was given by the gallery owner. He told me more than once to remind him to wear them tonight for the show. Looks like he forgot, as anticipated.

Also, I know where they are. They’re by the front door in the key dish. I put them there a couple of weeks ago so we wouldn’t forget.

“Oh, wait,” he says. “They’re in the key thing by the door. I forgot. Jocelyn put them there.”

The woman pauses. “We’re saying her name now?”

There is silence on the other end of the phone. “Just grab them.”

She leaves and goes toward the front door. “Holy shit, these are so hideous.”

“Tell me about it,” he says. “Listen, I gotta go.”

“You’re so lucky I love you,” she says. “I did not feel like coming all the way over here, it’s very out of my way.”

He laughs. “I love you, too. Now get your ass here, I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Arabella’s hand tightens on my leg as the woman leaves, locking the door behind her.

It’s over. It’s really over. I can’t come back from this, even if he wanted to. My mom just died, for fuck’s sake, we break up, and he’s already with someone new? And they’re saying I love you? Was he cheating on me? Is she an ex?

My mind reels.

We wait a moment, making sure she’s really gone, and then we burst out of the closet.

“Why did she have to be hot?” I ask. What I really mean is…did he really just say I love you to someone?

“It would be worse if she were ugly,” says Arabella.

“How’s that?”

“Because then it would be love. Come on, let’s get your things and get the hell out of this place.”

Arabella’s right, I think. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

Whoever that was, she was tall and thin with a sleek blond bob, olive skin, and plush, puffy lips painted with bright red lipstick. And even through the slats I could see that she had long black lashes as thick and pigmented as any mascara ad.

---