Page 38 of The Love Hoax
“Get a grip,” I tell myself,
I fight to stop my downward spiral. Surely, Adam will be back soon. This isnothinglike that other time. With Marco.
I mean, the only connection is a dead phone. So, why am I thinking about that awful incident now?
Because I met someone I truly care about.
With determination, I undress and get into the shower. Adam is not Marco, I tell myself emphatically. Far from it. By the time I get out, I feel more relaxed, the scent of the sandalwood body wash filling the bathroom. I wipe off the mirror’s condensation, studying myself, annoyed with my earlier panic attack. Even if Adam is now on his way to Hawaii, I would manage if something went wrong. I’d find a neighbor, use their phone, get to my car and drive back to the hotel. I am not helpless. Not anymore.
“Evie?”
My body fills with relief hearing Adam’s voice. He’s here. He hasn’t left me.
“I’ll be right out!” I shout, my entire mood shifting in an instant.
“I picked up some wine and cheese. It’s movie night!” Then, “Your bag is outside the door.”
Sure enough, my suitcase is there. Either Adam drove all the way to Merced to pick it up or he hired a magical delivery service.
I know my insecurities need attention, but now is not the time. I extract my makeup kit and dab on some tinted moisturizer, two coats of mascara, lip gloss and at the last minute, a spritz of perfume, aware I am acting like a schoolgirl with a burning crush. It’s date night and I am going to be ready.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Evie
Idig through my suitcase. The sole item that isn’t hiking clothes or flannel is a short-sleeve swimsuit cover-up. I bought the purple blousy frock on a trip with Caroline to Hawaii. Eight years ago. Not exactly high fashion. At the last minute, I tossed it into the bag along with my bikini, expecting that Caroline and I would take a soak in the resort’s hot tub.
I throw it over my head. It’s better than nothing.
Literally. Better than if I wore nothing. I’m not sure Adam would agree.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” I whisper to myself.
After another glance in the mirror, I grab my phone, hoping Adam has a suggestion for where to repair it. I’m halfway out the door when the screen flickers on.
Thank heavens. Disaster averted.
I kick myself for how I reacted to a dead phone. After years ofworking on being a truly independent woman, one hiccup has thrown off my mojo.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
My heart skips a beat when I see a string of missed calls and urgent messages. Jeffrey, Caroline, and my boss, Bill the Bull.
My son Jeffrey has left several voicemails, his voice tinged with worry. “Mom, this is my third try. It’s Sunday for heaven’s sake.”
Sunday has come and gone in Rome, our usual day for weekly calls, and I had missed it entirely. By the fourth message, he went so far as to call the local Yosemite hospital searching for me.
Overwhelmed with guilt, I quickly dial Jeffrey’s number. He answers on the second ring.
“Mom, where have you been?” he asks, his words rushing out. He sounds wide awake. It’s two in the morning over there. I feel terrible.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” I choke with emotion, much of it left over from my earlier panic. If the situation were reversed, I’d be beside myself. “My phone died, and I didn’t realize it.”
Jeffrey sighs, the tension in his voice melting into understanding. “It’s okay, Mom. Just promise me you’ll stay in touch. You scared me half to death.”
I never thought I’d hear my youngest speak this way.
“I promise, sweetheart,” I reassure him, my eyes welling up with tears. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Are you all right?”
