At least that managed to shut him up. He staggered and one hand gripping his nose, the other holding onto the wall behind him he barely managed to stay upright.
“You fucking son of a bitch,” he growled.
“This is your last warning. If I ever see you break her heart again, or hear about it, I’ll kill you.”
Before I could make good on my words, I turned around and forced myself to walk away.
After my quick visit to Joshua I went straight to Madison Avenue, because I knew she’d still be at the coffee shop, working at four PM, but she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Next, I tried the address Sally gave me, where she’d been staying this whole time. She wasn’t there either.
The apartment was on the first floor of an old building where anyone walking past could easily see inside and just as easily break in if they had a mind to do so. She would be the first thing they’d see, sleeping on the couch, right in front of the door, which made me impossibly angry. I already thought of myself as a damn stalker, why hadn’t I waited here at night? I would’ve officially earned that title at least.
Somewhere between worried and slightly pissed off, I doubled back to the coffee shop. When I walked in, both Owen and Sally snapped to attention.
Then they gave me more lies.
“She hasn’t come back since you left.”
“If we knew where she was we’d tell you.”
“Oh, I hope she’s okay—she didn’t look okay when she left.”
It didn’t matter how terse I was with them, they didn’t budge. Since I didn’t want to scare off their customers, I couldn’t very well demand an answer either. Good for Rose since it seemed like she’d made good employee choices, but not so good for me, unfortunately.
I even walked through goddamn Central Park just in case she thought hiding there in the freezing cold would be a good idea. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. I couldn’t go to her other friends, at least not until I could have our investigator dig up their addresses for me, but I knew it wouldn’t come to that. She barely saw them anyway. No matter where she was hiding, she’d come back to her precious coffee shop in the morning, and if that meant I had to wait outside or in a car until she showed up before the sun was even up, so be it. As long as she showed up, I didn’t care what I had to do. I was going to get a goddamn signature on that paper.
With no other options, I had Raymond drive me back to the apartment.
“Good evening, Steve. Everything all right?”
He smiled at me. “Good evening, sir. Yes, it’s a good night. How was your day?”
“Just perfect,” I muttered under my breath.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Trying to snap out of my bad mood, I shook my head. “Nothing. How’s your girl?”
His smile got bigger. “She is very well. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course.” Rubbing my neck, I sighed. “I’m gonna head up then.”
“Everything okay?”
I was about to start talking about Rose and tell him how frustrated and angry and worried I was, but I stopped myself. In just months, she had turned me into this. “Have a good night, Steve.”
“You, too.”
Right. Nodding a few times, I took the elevator up and walked into the apartment. The second I closed the door, I realized my mistake.
She was smart. I’d forgotten that somehow. She was unlike anyone I’d been with. Of course she’d be where I least expected her to be. Of course she’d hide in plain sight.
Ten points to her.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and released it.
Relieved that I’d finally found her, I followed the soft clinking noises to the kitchen and noticed the TV was playing on mute. I took my time turning it off to calm myself down.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Quite a few apples were lined up on the kitchen counter next to where she was working on some dough. So she was baking an apple pie in my apartment when she was supposed to be anywhere but in my apartment.
“What are you doing here?”
I watched as her shoulders tightened and she straightened her spine. Before turning around, she went to the sink and washed her hands, taking her sweet time doing so. I stayed quiet. When I thought she would turn around, she picked up an apple and started washing them one by one. I counted four apples so far, and with each passing second, her frame stood more frigid.
Then she turned off the water, picked up a kitchen towel, and finally faced me as she dried her hands.
“Baking.”
I nodded.
“What are you doing baking in my apartment? Did you come here to hand-deliver the papers yourself and then randomly started baking?”