Page 55 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

I press my ear to the door and listen for a full minute. There’s not a sound.

She’s not in there, Orson.

Hoping and praying I’m not about to walk in on something I shouldn’t see, I slowly turn the handle—as if that’s going to give her some warning—open the door slightly, and peek my head in to look. But what I see makes me gasp, and flinging the door wide open, I step into the room.

My eyes fly wide as I take in the scene before me. Drawers are lying half open. They’re all empty. The wardrobe doors are open, too. Also empty. Her dresser is completely clear, and as I scan the entire room, there’s not one bit of evidence that she ever lived here.

Like I need more confirmation, I stroll across the room and walk into her bathroom. It’s as empty as everywhere else, and I can only stand there feeling completely stunned.

“She’s gone,” I breathe, like I need to hear myself say it to make it real.

In a dazed state, I stand there far longer than I should; a minute later, I snap out of my stupor. Rummaging in my pocket and still standing in her vacated bathroom, I call Lily’s phone. It rings and rings until eventually, I hear her voice. But it’s her voicemail message, not her answering the phone.

Of course, she doesn’t answer. She didn’t the last time we had a fight, so really, why do I expect it to be any different this time?

Besides, last time, I said something mean. This time, she thinks I’m having an affair. I’d say this time was way worse!

Noting the time, I stride out of her bedroom, grab the car keys, and head out the door. I’m going to the bakery. It’s the only place she’ll be. Only this time, I won’t need to stand outside in the middle of the night, because the bakery won’t yet be closed.

I drive far too dangerously across the town and pull up outside the bakery, not caring that I’m double parked. Hurrying out of the car, I push open the bakery door and stride inside.

“Where’s Lily?” I ask Jasmine, who already looks surprised to see me.

A second ago, she was smiling at my entrance. Now, she looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“I’m sorry?” she says, her brow deeply creased.

“Lily. I need to see her. Is she upstairs?” I press.

With the same confused frown, Jasmine shakes her head. “I haven’t seen her in days, Mr. Donovan. I know she was heading back from the hospital today, but she hasn’t come here.”

I’m looking at her with a steady gaze, trying to see if the woman is telling me the truth. Clearly, Lily neither wants to see nor speak to me. She and Jasmine have been friends for a long time. I can imagine Jasmine would tell me what Lily had told her to say.

“Maybe she stopped somewhere on the way back from being with her mom. Maybe she’s back at the apartment while you’re here looking for her.” Jasmine smiles.

“Maybe,” I say. I don’t smile back.

“Have you been to the apartment?” she asks, looking at me inquiringly.

I don’t answer. I don’t want anyone in this town knowing any more of my business than necessary. Instead, I give her my number. “If she does come here, will you please call and let me know?”

Jasmine’s frown returns. She takes the number and gives me a weak nod. “I’ll get her to call you if she comes here, Mr. Donovan,” she replies diplomatically.

I suppose it’s only right that Jasmine is going to protect her friend. If there’s trouble in paradise, and that’s an understatement, friends are hardly going to throw each other under the bus. Good friends stick together, and I know Jasmine and Lily are good friends.

“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” I ask. It’s a last resort, and I don’t really expect Jasmine to tell me, but it’s worth a shot.

With a genuine expression, Jasmine shakes her head. “Her life is this place,” she says, gesturing to her surroundings. “The very few times she’s skipped work have been because of her mom.”

“Thanks, Jasmine,” I say before diving back out of the door.

It’s a long shot, but I don’t have anything else, so, jumping into the car, I call Gloria and ask for the address of Lily’s mother’s nursing home. It’s a long drive, but I don’t care. I have to see her.

The three-hour round trip is a bust, as I imagined it might be. The last the nursing staff saw of her was at the hospital. They are kind enough to pass on a message, though, if she does call or arrive. I thank them but don’t bother leaving a message. What’s the point? Besides, I don’t think Lily’s going to go all the way down there.

She could be at her sisters’, but I have no idea where they are located. I could find out, but Gloria left the office hours ago. Instead, I return to the apartment, exhausted and utterly dejected.

The wine and pizza remain in the kitchen, but I’m not hungry. Instead, slouched into an easy chair with my tie loosened and my suit crumpling around me, I try to comfort myself with a bourbon. But Jim Beam isn’t helping, as much as I’m sure he wants to.

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