Page 81 of Come Back To Me

“Leave it,” I say. “Just as it is.”

“But…”

“Leave it,” I say, firmly. “It’s exactly how it should be.”

When I leave the restaurant, my headache has disappeared and I feel wired. Yara doesn’t wait to act, and for this reason, I know she must have just arrived in Seattle. How long? A day…two days? Where is she staying? Her e-mail, the one I used before, doesn’t work anymore. I tried to send her an e-mail after the stunt she pulled in Paris, and then realized she must have deleted the account because of the reporters. I have something I have to do tomorrow night. Somewhere I have to be. Once that is done I can find her.

I realize he may be angry with me. The restaurant was there long before the stunt I pulled in Paris. There is a chance that what I did changed the way he felt. If someone did that to me I’d…

Come back to me. Come back. Come.

I try not to think about David being angry. That was beside the point, wasn’t it? I came here to make a stand, to bring some kind of closure to my life so that I can move on to the next chapter. I can go back to the houseboat and wait there until I see him, but I’m afraid of the potential rejection.

I’m lying prostrate on Ann’s living room floor when I get a text from Posey.

He has a benefit concert tomorrow in Portland.

I sit up abruptly.

How do you know?I text back.

The internet is a wonderful thing, Yara. You should learn how to use it.

“Ann…?” I call out. “I have to go to Portland.”

Ann comes out of the bedroom where she’s been watching one of her shows.

“For David?” she asks.

“Yes. What does my horoscope say?”

It’s a joke between Ann and me. She makes up horoscopes for me. Ann’s horoscopes mostly say things like: You’re detached and emotionally stunted. Let love into your life when it comes knocking!

Ann frowns. “An opportunity will come to make big changes. Take the trip. You don’t have a driver’s license, so be resourceful.”

“Shit,” I say. “Do you have a driver’s license?” I sit up suddenly. “Come on, Ann, I can’t rent a car without a driver’s license.”

“Can you even drive?” she asks, propping her hands on her hips.

“Yes. Well…er—it’s been a few years for sure. And I’ve never driven on the left side of a car. Should be a piece of cake, right?”

She shakes her head. “Take a cab.”

“To Portland, Ann? Don’t be daft. That’ll cost a fortune.”

“The train,” she says. “Don’t you do that sort of thing in London? I watchedThe Girl on the Train.”

“Right,” I say, heading for the computer. “I’m a bloody idiot.”

“Yes,” Ann says, watching me from the doorway.

I’m looking at train schedules on Ann’s computer, biting my nails down to the quick when my phone rings. I find it sort of alarming whenever my phone rings. So few people have my number, especially since I change it so often. I expect it to be either Posey or Celine since I’m already with Ann, but when I look at the screen it’s a number I don’t recognize. I answer it despite my better judgment.

“Yara Phillips?”

“Yes,” I say.

The voice on the other end of the phone is hollow like she’s calling from far away. I press the phone closer to my ear so I can hear her better and plug my other ear, even though it’s not noisy in the apartment.

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