As much as I want to laugh, I can’t. My insides are knotting themselves toward an ulcer. “I need to find Mom.”
Elle falls into step behind me as I push my way through the crowd. The room is starting to feel cluttered and overwhelmingly suffocating. Too much smoke, too much noise, too many people.
“There.” Elle points to the other side of the room where Mom and Dad are talking with the Clarkes.
I storm right up to them, and without waiting for a break in the conversation, I demand, “Where is he?”
Four shocked pairs of eyes blink back at me.
“Excuse me,” Dad says. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”
“Well, I appear to be missing a fiancé, and I’ve been led to believe you know where he is.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Émile. Christian was just here.”
“I know where hewas,my problem is that it’s suddenly not where heis now.”
Mom lightly sets her hand on my arm. “Careful, dear. You’re starting to sound frightfully possessive.”
I shake her off with a scowl. “What did yousayto him?”
“You’re making a scene,” Dad snaps.
“Your father is right, this isn’t the place for this conversation. Go back to the games, dear, and we’ll talk to you later.”
“There is nofucking wayI’m going anywhere until I know what you’ve said to Christian.”
A hush falls around us, and I’m hit with the hysterical thought that I’ve somehow absorbed Christian’s backbone when it comes to our parents.
Dad’s voice lowers dangerously. “I will not be spoken to like that.”
Before I can reply, my phone ringtone cuts through the tension between us. Christian’s name lights up the screen and I flip it so they can see. “Never mind. I’m about to find out everything anyway.”
I quickly swipe to answer as I march away from them.
“What the hell happened?”
There’s a long stretch where Christian doesn’t answer and when he finally does, his voice sounds strained. “Uh, sorry I left.”
“You’re not the one who should be sorry. Did someone say something? Is everything okay?”
Again, no immediate answer and then, six words. Stilted. On a gravel tone. Six words that make me feel deeply like the others, but in all the wrong ways.
“I’m sorry, Émile. This isn’t working.”
Chapter 30
Christian
By the time I get home, my guts feel like they’ve been hollowed out, and I’m hanging on by walking myself through each step like it’s a monumental task.
Lift foot, stretch forward, set it down.
Over and over until I reach the front door. Untilhand on handle, turn, push, lift foot …
My entire body feels like a sigh. An impassioned waft of air just passing through.
“How much longer are you planning on leaving it?” Madden asks whoever the hell he’s talking with.