Safe travels, I typed instead, hoping to draw the conversation to a close before I said something I shouldn’t.
All is well with you? he texted. And Chere?
I didn’t know what to reply. Nothing was well with me these days. Work was a hassle, home was an awful, empty place, and strangers were living in Chere’s apartment. Everything’s fine, I typed, just to give an answer.
Is it? I only wonder why you’re letting someone so dear to you live in a hotel. A nice hotel, the Gramercy, but still.
I stared down at the message. The Gramercy. The place I’d left her.
You saw her there? I texted.
Just today.
A pause, and then another text popped up on my screen.
Why is she there, I wonder? He inserted a few goggle-eyed emojis. None of my business. I’ll bring you saffron and chocolate.
I typed two words in response. Thank you.
I wasn’t thanking him for saffron and chocolate. I was thanking him because I finally knew where she was.
Fuck.
I finally knew where she was.
Chapter Fifteen: All the Wrong, Bad Things
I was lingering over coffee, staring out the window on Saturday morning, when a loud, pounding knock jolted me from my thoughts. I didn’t mind, because they were shitty thoughts, unfocused and conflicted even after a week of cowardly huddling in this room.
I knew Vinod was supposed to leave for India today, which was probably why Jino was pounding on my door at this hour. I threw the lock and opened it, expecting to find my silver-haired friend and his towering sidekick. I remembered too late that Price also had an aggressive knock, one he wasn’t afraid to use in the quiet hallways of luxury hotels.
My ex-Master looked beautiful and tired, his jaw scruffy with a day’s worth of stubble. He wore a gray coat with an ivory sweater, and flawlessly pressed pants that highlighted his muscular physique. His gaze was as blue and deep as it had ever been. A bundle of white tulips peeked from beneath his arm.
I stared at him, not ready for this moment. “How did you know where—”
“Vinod.”
He didn’t make a move to come in. I studied his expression as I had so many times, trying to decipher what he felt. As usual, he gave me nothing. Irritation washed over me. I focused it on the tulips. I’d always hated tulips.
“Flowers aren’t going to fix us,” I said.
“I know. These aren’t for you, they’re for Simon.” He finally reached toward me, but didn’t quite touch me. “I’m taking you to the cemetery. Do you need a coat?”
“The cemetery? Why?”
“So you can have your fucking closure.”
I frowned at him in exasperation. “This is all a little too late, don’t you think?”
I finally saw something in his face, some human emotion. Panic. “Will you please just come?” He reached out again, and this time he took my hand. “Please come with me, Chere. We need to talk.”
I sighed and went for a coat. Price stood at the door, looking around the hotel room. Wondering where to install the cameras? Or was he remembering the last time he’d come here, to leave that note that destroyed my life?
And then rebuilt your life, Chere. Don’t forget that.
Simon’s final resting place was in Fair Lawn, a half hour outside the city. Price had said we needed to talk, but we rode in the back of his chauffeured sedan in total silence most of the way. Price was in scary self-control mode. He wouldn’t even look at me. The tulips trembled on his lap, their delicate white petals too blatant in design for my tastes. I liked the mystery of roses, the frivolity of carnations.
Flowers for Simon. Did he think that would win me back?
But I’d missed Simon’s funeral, and I hadn’t had the heart to visit his grave on my own, so I might as well visit it with Price, even if everything felt weird. Maybe this was his idea of closure, but closure for whom? For him, for his guilt in making me miss Simon’s funeral? Even if it was for me, this trip to the cemetery was only necessary because of what he’d done.
“It has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until Price looked over at me. “What? What has to be on my terms?”
“Simon. His death. This final goodbye, or whatever you have planned.”
He was silent a moment, then he shrugged. “You’re probably right.”
“Forget it, then. I want to go back to the hotel.”
“We’re not going back. We’re going to Simon’s fucking grave and we’re going to put these fucking flowers on it.”
I let out a huff and pressed back against the seat, and stared out the window. “Tulips are my least favorite flower.”
“I don’t care.”
Ah, how I’d missed his bright, sunny personality. I wished I was on a plane to India instead. Vinod had invited me to go with him, but I’d refused because it seemed too far to go when my life was a mess.