Page 64 of Closer

“She left Elijah. Went back to Oliver.”

“No. No, she wouldn’t. Not after…”

His shoulders tense up. “Well, she did. Elijah called me. He’s a fucking mess.”

I stare down at the sheets, trying to process this. Gemma, back with Oliver? After the hell he put her through? It doesn’t make sense. Gemma is irrevocably in love with Elijah. She’s fallen for him head over heels. She would never go back to that cheating—

“There has to be a reason,” I murmur.

“Yeah. She’s lost her damn mind.”

I glare at him. “Don’t say that. Gem’s not stupid. If she’s with Oliver, there’s a reason.”

He meets my gaze, his eyes hard. “And what reason could possibly justify going back to that piece of shit?”

I open my mouth, then close it again. I don’t have an answer. But I know Gemma. She wouldn’t do this, not without a damn good reason.

“I don’t know.” I grab my phone from the nightstand, my fingers fumbling to dial her number.

It rings once, twice, then goes to voicemail. Damn it.

I try again. Still no answer. I shoot her a quick text.

Lil: What’s going on? Call me.

Lil: Are you okay?

One Checkmark. Delivered.

A sickening sense of dread settles in my stomach. I scroll through my contacts, finding Mary’s number. She picks up on the second ring.

“Lil?” Mary asks.

“Please tell me you know something,” I say into the phone. “What the hell is going on with Gem?”

“I wish I knew. I’m as confused as you are,” Mary says. “I’ve been trying to reach her, but she’s not answering her phone.”

I pace the room. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would she go back to Oliver after everything he put her through?”

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. We’re already on our way to the airport. Can you pick me up? We’ll go back together to the apartment and figure out what to do next.”

“Okay, good idea. See you in a bit.” I end the call and shove my things into my suitcase, not even bothering to fold anything. I need to escape, need to find Gemma and make sure she’s okay.

Sebastian watches me from the doorway, his arms crossed. “I’ll drive you.”

“I can manage on my own, thanks.”

“Come on. We have to talk. Work this out.” He points between us.

I pause, my hand clutching a shirt. I can’t think about us right now. Can’t think about the hurt, the anger, and the goddamn longing every time I look at him.

All that matters is Gemma. Everything else can wait.

“Okay.” I zip up my suitcase with more force than necessary. “But I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“So, what, we’re going to ignore everything that happened this weekend?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what we’re going to do. This weekend, this… trial, or whatever the hell it was. It’s over.”

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