Page 122 of Boiling Point
I said nothing.
Dr. Singh stood. “That will be all, Dr. Hawthorne.”
I rose without a word, walked to the door, and didn’t look back. If I had, I might not have kept my mouth shut.
Chapter 44
Gabrielle
Cal was gone. Physically, at least. His coffee mug sat half-full on the kitchen counter. I rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher—not out of obligation, just to give my hands something to do.
I’d been drifting all morning—from couch to table to floor to couch again—touching random objects like they could tether me to the present. Like he’d walk back in if I just kept moving. The nerves in my stomach had gone full-time and were billing by the minute.
I checked my phone again—8:45. Still nothing. I hoped for a call, a text, an email—anything. At this point, even a text from Aunt Suzy would have helped. Anything to break the silence.
Speaking of Aunt Suzy… She’d gone quiet ever since I got back from England. Her last message, sent the day I’d landed, was still sitting there:
Good luck with the jet lag, kiddo. Glad you’re home.
That was two days ago.
I hovered, then thumbed out:
Are you free?
Yes
Call?
Sure…
The ellipsis tripped me up. Was it passive-aggressive punctuation? Or just the casual dot-dot-dot favored by anyone over fifty?
I called. Three rings.
“Hello?”
I put on my sweetest voice. “Hi, Aunt Suzy!”
“Hey, hon.” Her voice was pitched oddly stiff. Cable news murmured in the background.
“You busy?” I asked, immediately regretting it.
A rustle. A clatter. “Always.” A door clicked shut. “But I can talk. What’s up?”
I curled up on the couch, phone pressed tight to my ear. “Just…checking in. Haven’t heard from you.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard much from you either, sweet girl.” The endearment hit like a sugar cube with a razor in it. “Did you have a nice time in England?”
I laughed—light, maybe too light. “Honestly? It was incredible. The countryside looked like something out of a fairy tale. The house was unreal. His sister’s wedding wasVoguemeetsDownton Abbey. And we rode horses! I didn’t break my neck, which—” I caught myself babbling.
“That’s nice,” Aunt Suzy said. Flat as a pancake. “Sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
“I know you’re mad I went, but it really was?—”
“I’m not mad you went, Gabrielle.”
“Then what?”
