Page 34 of Say You Hate Me
“Yeah, well, I figured he was older.”
She eyes me up and down. “I’m guessing that Anderson will be there, too?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stutter. “The alarm is going off, so I need to go make sure everything’s okay.”
“With Anderson,” she clarifies, turning back to the television.
“Luca couldn’t get ahold of anyone, so I’m not sure. I’m going to head over alone.”
“Be careful,” she warns, sipping her coffee.
I shake my head. “The building has security. Luca just needs someone to turn the alarm off.”
I say goodbye and head out, pulling out of the driveway of our duplex in my Honda. I head down Moorpark and turn right on Laurel Canyon, taking the winding road into West Hollywood, and wondering idly the entire time where Anderson lives, and if his house is just as ostentatious as Luca’s. When I pull into the parking garage of the building that houses Gather’s headquarters, I lock my car and walk to the elevator. Luca still hasn’t sent me the code, so I shoot him a quick text. I can probably figure out the rest, but I need the code.
I’ve been to this building a few times—Amour is a few miles away on Sunset, so I used to meet Luca for lunch in his office from time to time, though I usually met him in the cafeteria on the first floor. I’ve only been in the actual office once, and that was five years ago when they moved in here, a whole four years before Anderson joined Gather.
When I exit the elevator, I step out onto the fifth floor. The lights are mostly off, and the glass doors leading to the reception area are closed. The high-pitched alarm sounds, and a red light is flashing inside the office. I glance down at my phone, and I realize with a sinking feeling that my text didn’t go through to him—it doesn’t say delivered. I try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Great,” I mutter, looking around. I try Anderson’s number, but it rings and then that goes to voicemail, too.Wonderful.
I walk up to the keypad, trying a few different numbers to no avail. Just as I’m about to go find security, the elevator door dings and slides open. Anderson walks out.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Anderson yells over the alarm, his eyebrows knitting together. His hair is wet, and he’s wearing a T-shirt and some kind of exercise shorts with sneakers—with enough scruff to make him unrecognizable. He walks over to the keypad next to the door and enters the code. The pealing sound stops instantly. I get a whiff of sweat and coffee.
“Luca asked me to turn the alarm off.” I pause. “I tried calling you.”
“I was in a class, and then I was talking to the police,” he explains, rubbing his lips. “I told them not to come. The alarm trips for no reason every few months.” He glances at me, his eyes roving over my body quickly. “I should check the office out really quick,” he says, walking over to the glass door and unlocking it.
I follow him inside, looking around at the dark office while he peeks his head into every office briefly. Once the checks are done, he ushers us out of the office, locking the doors behind him. We take the elevator down. His heady, musky scent fills the shaft.
“What’s the code to the keypad?” I ask.
“122413,” he says quickly, his eyes on his phone. I cross my arms and swallow, looking down. I wasnotexpecting that.
“Oh.”
He must sense my hesitation, because he snaps his head up. “Why?”
“That’s the day our parents died.”
His face remains neutral, but I catch a brief glimpse of something—horror, shock, sadness—before it disappears.
“They died on Christmas Eve?” His voice is low, soft—so unlike the first few conversations we had—when it was gritty and hard. He’s leaning against the side of the shaft, his eyes searching my face.
“Yeah. Car accident. Luca and I were actually supposed to drive with them, but we stayed back with our cousins. Large Italian Christmas dinner… you know…” I trail off, suppressing the grief. “They were driving home when a drunk driver was going the wrong way on the freeway. The cops told us they died instantly on impact. It was all over the news.”
Anderson’s eyebrows come together, and he shakes his head. “I knew they died, but Luca never told me how. I’m so sorry.”
The elevator door springs open, and I walk out, ignoring the tears springing to my eyes. Anderson mumbles a goodbye, but I keep walking.
Of all people, I definitely don’t want him to see me cry.
19
Natalia
That Monday,once Luca and Nathan are back from their blissful, Hawaiian mini-cation, I wake up to a text from Luca that today is the team-building excursion that he planned months ago. And of course, Luca being Luca, that means a day at Harry Potter World. I smile and turn over in bed as the sun lightens the sky. Seems my early bird wake schedule is back to normal, and the groggy jetlag has all but disappeared. I print out my ticket, get changed, and manage to spend the morning leisurely reading in the quiet duplex while Kira sleeps. Around nine, I grab my purse, a water bottle, and a hat.
