Page 87 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Still trucking to the elevator, I wave over my shoulder. “I will.”

When I arrive at the hospital, the car pulls up behind Jackson’s black Range Rover. I hadn’t thought about the coincidence until now—Jackson’s new Rover to Nick’s restored model. Jackson hops out to grab my stuff from the back seat as the cab driver pulls my suitcase from the trunk.

I fold myself into the SUV and run my hand over the dash. The two vehicles couldn’t be more different, but there’s something sophisticated about the leather and design on the inside. My brother is more of a sports car kind of guy, but after he wrecked the last one, my parents surprised him with the SUV. This car never fit Jackson like it does Nick.

Jackson loads my luggage in the back, and I turn to ask, “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s riding with Dad. They left about ten minutes ago.”

Irritation burns through me. “Then why didn’t you pick me up?”

“You’re in the opposite direction. I wasn’t going to fight traffic.”

Annoyed, I grit my teeth and look out the window. The bench that Nick had been occupying is empty, and disappointment fills my chest. His constant presence has surprised me, but is that it? He’s gone?Forever?I can’t say that worrying about my dad hasn’t consumed me, but alongside that has been this war inside my head.Talk to Nickvs.forget about him.

I breathe what I think is a sigh of relief. Not having to face your demons is always a good thing, but I can tell it’s something different. It’s not relief I feel, but empty, like the bench.

Jackson gets in and starts the car. “Ready?”

I glance back one more time. Maybe he went to get something to eat or use the bathroom. Maybe he was called away or asked to move. Maybe he’ll be back the moment we leave, and I’ll never see him again. I pop the door open, and my seat belt flies off. Hopping out, I look everywhere, everywhere for where my heart might be.

“What are you doing, Natalie?” I hear my brother but can’t bring myself to leave.

What if . . .He once tossedwhat-ifsaround like he didI do’s.

I hate that I smile thinking about him. I hate that I miss those phrases he used.

But what I really hate is that I miss him.

When there’s no sign of him anywhere, I climb back in the SUV and buckle in. “I’m ready.”

30

Nick

I waited.

For five days, I waited through the bad weather—light rain, cold winds, and occasional sun managed to shine, but not for long. Like my hope to see and talk to Natalie, it waned. But I would have stayed. I waited as long as I could until a hospital security guard told me to leave.

John St. James has been discharged into private care. The rest is a mystery to me. And to him. I tried my best to convince them to dig a little deeper for information at the nurses’ desk. They are vaults, though, and rightly so.

Although I don’t have much time, I decide to stop by her apartment. It’s a risk I’m willing to take because, after this, I’m going back to LA. The car stops at the curb, and I get out. I look up at the window I remember Tatum peeking out. One. Two. Three. Four. Fourth floor left side of what I presume is an elevator.

The doorman doesn’t say anything when I enter the lobby. He stands, giving me a stern nod and disapproving once-over.

I say, “Hi, I’m here for Natalie St. James,” and head for the elevator.

“She’s not here. She left not forty-five minutes ago. Heading out of town by the looks of it, so you’re not going to find her upstairs.”

“Out of town.” I repeat like the words are new to my ears. “Is Tatum around?”

“I can ring her for you.”

I stand there awkwardly in the modern-styled lobby juxtaposed against the historical architecture. I walk back to the door, looking down the broad avenue, wondering which way she might have gone. “Ms. Devreux will be down momentarily.”

Glancing at him as he settles back in behind the desk, I reply, “Thank you.” Is this a fool’s mission? Natalie’s gone, and I have no idea where to even start looking.

Tatum is my last hope of reaching her again.

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