“Babe!” I yell behind me but see her walking down the steps in a robe now. “Not better,” I say, and she laughs.
“Who’s at the door?” she asks me the same time her phone rings.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask her as she walks over to the kitchen. “Doesn’t anyone sleep anymore?”
The guy comes back with two vases of flowers. “There are six more.”
“From who?” I ask, and he just shrugs his shoulders, and I turn to walk into the kitchen.
“Okay.” I hear Alex say, and then her head goes down. “We’ll be there in an hour.”
She puts down the phone. “Um, that was your dad and your mom, who were both not happy that he had to read about their son’s engagement in the papers.”
“Papers?” I say, shocked as the guy comes back in and just puts the flowers on the kitchen counter.
“Who are these from?” she asks, and I just shrug.
“What papers?” I ask her, confused as fuck looking at her as she smiles at the guy.
“There are four more,” he says to her.
“Is it in the papers?” I ask her, grabbing her phone and opening it and seeing the picture of the both of us from last night. We are side by side, I don’t know what she is telling me, but all you can see is me smiling as she looks at me. It’s our favorite picture of us together and I’m going to be adding it to our framed pictures. Then I scroll down and read the headline, and I want to vomit.
Kissing Cousins.
I stop even breathing, afraid how she is going to react to this. I scroll the article and then look up at her as she smiles at me. “The flowers are from Nico and Becca.” She holds the card. “This one is from Leo and says you’re a punk-ass pussy, and he’s not talking to you but that he’s happy for me.” She laughs and then sees my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Your father was right.” I think about not telling her but knowing she’ll find out anyway.
“What are you talking about?” she says, putting the cards down and coming to me now.
“Oh, well,” she huffs out. “People are idiots,” she says, not even bothered by this whole news.
“This doesn’t bother you?” I ask her, trying to read her face.
“Does it bother me?” she repeats my question. “Yes.” She shrugs. “Do I care? No.” She smiles. “I care more that our friends and family know the truth and stand behind us.” She points over at all the flowers. “This is all that matters to me. That our friends and family support us.”
I’m about to say something else, but I don’t have time to ask her anything because the front door opens, and I hear running.
Julia comes into the room, and her face is filled with tears. She looks at us, and something about her being here makes my heart stop. “We can’t find him.”
Everyone says that when something traumatic happens, you always feel like you leave your body. It’s at this moment that I know what everyone is talking about. The room comes to a standstill, and the beating of my heart echoes so loud in my ears I don’t think I understand what she’s saying. “What do you mean?” I hear Alex ask her.
“They went to get him this morning in his room, and he wasn’t there,” she says, frantically looking around. “They called the police and then called me. I came here, thinking maybe he came here.”
“How would he come here?” I roar. My hands shake as the front door opens, and I hear more footsteps.
“We came as soon as Julia called,” Wilson says, looking like you just dragged him out of his bed. Franny follows him dressed as if she just picked the first thing out of her closet. The front door opens again, and I hear more people coming into the house, and I see Michael running in with my father and Max. “We called Matthew. He got things rolling.”
“He’s alone,” Alex says, the tears running down her face, all eyes on her. “When was the last time they saw him?” She looks around at everyone and then back to Julia. “I have to go get dressed.” She turns and runs up the stairs, and Franny just follows her upstairs.
“Julia.” I look at her. “You need to tell me everything,” I say, swallowing down the bile coming up my throat. “And I mean everything.”
“They put him to bed last night,” Julia starts. “He was not himself all day. He was quiet and withdrawn. He kept asking them how long until he was able to go to the rink,” she says, wiping the tears away
“Oh my God,” my father says. “Have you checked the rink?”
“I’ll go over there,” Wilson says. “Tell Fran.” He runs out.