Page 92 of A Win-Win Situation

"When did you two leave the office?" My voice is harsh, but I don’t care.

"About two and a half hours ago."

As the information sinks in, a knot forms in my stomach.

Leora should have been home by now.

Confusion and concern grip me, and I try to make sense of the situation. Why would she leave thirty minutes after I offered her to come with me? She told me she had a lot to do.

"Are you sure she didn't mention anything about where she was going or if something was wrong?" I ask urgently, my voice filled with worry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have pressured her to come with me tonight; she’s not ready.

Camille hesitates for a moment before responding, "No, she didn't say anything specific. She seemed a bit preoccupied, but I assumed it was work-related. I'm sorry, I don't have any more information."

My mind races, considering different possibilities. If Leora left the office around the same time I did and she hasn't made it home, something must have happened during her journey back home.

"Please let me know if you hear anything."

Camille's voice trembles slightly. "Yes, of course."

With a sense of urgency, I end the call and immediately dial Leora’s number again. This time, I’m sent straight to her voicemail.

"Hi, you have reached Leora. I can’t come to the phone right now but please?—"

I don’t finish listening to her answering machine. Fire burns inside me, and I don’t know if it’s fear or anger that consumes me first, but in a moment of overwhelming intensity, I throw my phone against the wall. The impact shatters the screen, leaving a web of cracks in its wake.

I grab my car keys with a sense of dread and determination, and hurry out the door. What if something happened to her?

Racing to the office, panic surges through me as I frantically scale the stairs, heading straight to where I last saw her. I quickly scan the surroundings, but there's no sign of her, anxiety growing with every passing moment. I can't shake the feeling that something is seriously wrong.

Desperation sets in, and I pull out my cracked phone to call Liam, who offers to come and help me search for her. Then, I dial the police, my voice trembling as I explain the situation. They advise me to return home and wait for her, promising to inform patrolling officers to keep an eye out for her—but also informing me that until she’s been missing for twenty-four hours, they can’t do much. Which to me feels like bullshit and is infuriating, but the police remind me it's only been three hours, and that I should trust my wife. It’s absurd; I’m callingbecauseI trust my wife, and because something feels wrong.

If anything happens to her, I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself.

THIRTY-FOUR

LEORA

I’m a liar.

I’m a disgusting liar who told my "husband" that I was going to work when, in fact, I was going to meet someone I shouldn't be meeting.

I arrived at the café we agreed on about an hour earlier than planned in order to calm myself down a little. This meeting won't take long. I'll say what I need to say and then I'll go back home to Lucas and get ready for the evening.

He surprised me by asking if I wanted to come with him. I've been hesitant around him in the past few days, especially after my awful attempt at seduction. But it feels like he’s trying to make it less awkward. I’m still incredibly embarrassed, and every time I’m around him, I hear his echoing words,"I don't want to do anything that you’ll regret in the morning. You said it yourself, we’re friends."

I don't know how I misinterpreted everything to be more than it was. But he’s been kind to me.

Time passes, and I find myself exchanging a cappuccino for an espresso martini—or two.

A part of me is nervous, and another part is angry, because he’s late, as expected.

I reach for my phone, picking it up to double-check the messages once more. Perhaps I misread them and I’m simply too early.

Unknown number

Stop blocking my numbers, please.

We need to talk, Leora.

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