Page 92 of Endless Love

FORTY-THREE

Ryan

Ilost track of time. If it weren’t for the Christmas decorations that lit up the streets, I wouldn’t have known what month we were in. It was mid-December. Somehow, November had gone by. Despite invitations from my parents, my sister, my bud Duff, and even Mel, I spent Thanksgiving alone. I had nothing to be thankful for. My email to Willow had gone unanswered. I was in a comatose state. A zombie. It was an effort to get out of bed. Or leave my loft. I even stopped seeing Dr. Goodman, which was probably a big mistake.

The only person I communicated with regularly was Mel. He, too, had not heard from Willow since her departure to Paris. He was worried sick. I assured him that she was fine because for sure he would have been notified if something had happened to her. Yet, the burning question remained: Why hadn’t she gotten in touch with us? It had been over a month.

On a cold, blustery Friday, I decided to pay him a visit. Close to two o’clock in the afternoon, my rumbling stomach told me I had to eat something. In my sorry state, the only thing that would do was some chicken soup for the soul. And Mel made the best in the city.

Bundled up in a puffer jacket, scarf, and beanie, I trudged down the street to his deli. Despite my layers, the chill in the air ripped through me. I’d better get used to it. It was going to be a long, cold winter.

Mel’s Famous, as usual, was busy. There was joy in the air, many diners carrying colorful shopping bags filled with Christmas and Chanukah presents. Fuck. I hadn’t even started my holiday shopping. And I had a shitload to do, from finding the perfect gifts for my parents to sending one to my adorable niece, Violet. I just wasn’t in a joyous, giving mood. Maybe I’d hire a personal shopper and get it done that way. As for me, the only thing I wanted was to be with Willow. I’d even settle for a letter, an email, or a text as long as it ended in “xo.”

My eyes darted around the crowded restaurant in search of Mel. I spotted him at the cash register. Our eyes made contact as he waved me over.

“How’ya doing, Ryan?” he asked, ringing up a bill.

“Hanging in there. Any news from Willow?”

He shook his head, the expression on his face turning glum.

My heart sunk. The saying “misery loves company” had no meaning for me. I tried to cheer him up.

“Maybe she’ll get in touch once the ballet opens in Paris.” The one thing that I’d done was check the performance schedule of the opera house online. The Royal Latvia Ballet’s production of Swan Lake was set to premier in a couple of days. “Or we can track her down there,” I added, not sharing my fear that Willow had abandoned me for Gustave.

“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Mel shrugged hopelessly. “What can I get you?”

Before I could place my order, his old-fashioned wall phone rang. He grabbed the receiver on the second ring and put it to his ear.

“Mel’s Famous.” My gaze stayed on him as he listened in silence. His face blanched and his hand trembled. Jesus. Was he having another heart attack?

“Mel, are you okay?” I asked anxiously as the phone slipped out of his hand.

“It’s Willow. She’s been in a terrible accident.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What happened?”

“A truck hit her.”

“Jesus. Is she going to be okay?”

“They don’t know. She’s about to undergo surgery. I need to get to Paris to be with my baby girl.”

Paris.A chill ran through me. The City of Lights was my City of Doom. I couldn’t even watch French movies anymore.

Mel looked at me, his eyes watering. “Ryan, she’s been crying out your name.”

I had no choice. We were going to Paris together.

We were fucked. Every airline I looked up online was booked because of the holidays. The first available direct flight to Paris wasn’t until after the first of the year. Again, I had no choice. With dread in my stomach, I speed dialed one number. My father’s. His longtime secretary, Hazel, picked up on the first ring and I asked her put me through to him. I told her it was urgent.

Holding my breath, I was relieved when I heard my father’s voice.

“Hello, son. What can I do for you?” he drawled though his speech was improving.

“Father, I have an emergency.”

“You need money?”

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