Page 58 of Worth the Fall

Me

Hey, Celine agreed to meet you. Dinner tonight at Morton’s. I’ll pick you up.

Mia

Oh—okay, I’ll meet you there. Late work night!

Setting the phone aside, I take another sip of coffee, finally feeling focused enough to dive back into the mountain of work on my desk.

The dimly lit ambiance of Morton’s feels suffocating tonight. Normally, the low hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and soft piano music would put me at ease. But tonight, I can’t sit still. My leg bounces under the table, and I’ve already excused myself three times—once to use the restroom, once to call Mia, and now, to ask the host if he’s seen her.

"She’s not here yet," the host says politely, glancing at his list. "I can keep an eye out for her, though."

I force a smile and nod. "Thanks. She’s probably just running late."

As I make my way back to the table, I glance at my phone again. Still no messages, no calls. I dial her number again, but it goes straight to voicemail.

"Hey, it’s me. Just checking in. Let me know if you’re okay." I pause, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. "We’re here at Morton’s. Hope to see you soon."

I hang up, slide my phone back into my pocket, and take a deep breath before rejoining Celine.

She’s sitting primly at the table, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand. Her manicured fingers tap lightly on the stem as she watches me sit down. "Still no sign of her?"

"Not yet," I say, trying to keep my tone even.

Celine raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "Miguel, she’s not coming."

I bristle at her words, shaking my head. "She’s just running late."

"She didn’t call or text, and it’s been twenty minutes," she points out, her voice sharp but calm. "Even if her phone died, she could’ve found another way to let you know."

"There has to be a reason," I insist, though the knot in my stomach tightens.

Celine takes another sip of her wine, her gaze steady. "I’m not waiting any longer. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

She grabs her clutch and stands, leaving a few bills on the table before walking out without a second glance.

I sit there for a moment, staring blankly at the empty chair across from me. The noise of the restaurant feels distant, like I’m underwater, and my thoughts are spinning too fast to make sense of them.

Mia wouldn’t just blow me off. That’s not her.

I glance at my phone again. No missed calls. No messages.

Pushing back my chair, I stand and head for the exit, my heart pounding.

The first place I go is Mia’s office, hoping maybe she got caught up in work. But when I arrive, the lights are off, and the receptionist is long gone. The building is locked, dark, and silent.

My worry intensifies as I drive to her apartment. When I reach the building, I buzz her unit over and over, my finger jabbing the button with increasing urgency.

No answer.

I try Hector and Becca’s buzzers next, but neither of them responds.

I’m starting to feel desperate. I pace in front of the entrance, my thoughts racing. Is she okay? Did something happen?

Finally, someone exits the building, and I seize the opportunity to slip inside before the door closes. I take the stairs two at a time, not trusting the old elevator to move fast enough.

When I reach Mia’s door, I bang on it with my fist, the sound echoing down the hallway.

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