Chapter 8
NANCY
“I just want you to be comfortable,” he said after I had told him my answer. “I'll send a car for you.”
I told him I didn't need a ride, but he insisted. And now, the driver is waiting for me when I step out of the hotel.
The air tastes metallic this morning, gray sky the color of worn steel.
The day is dreary—a perfect complement to my nerves which are beating as hard as the rain this Saturday morning, and Andrew’s text is still on my phone.
One hand on the suitcase Andrew’s man brought, another on my phone, I glance at the slew of texts on the screen—one right after the other.
I exhale.
SOPH: I know you must be mad as hell at me for ditching last night, but are you ALIVE?
I’ve called you five times in the last five hours, and you never seem to have your phone wi
