My phone buzzes in my jeans, and I fish it out, making sure my laptop doesn’t topple over, and my heart squeezes at seeing Mrs. Bristol’s phone number.
I’ve been watching that phone number on my incoming calls over the past two weeks and getting flooded with guilt. But now that Noah’s explicitly told me that he isn’t going anywhere, what do I have to be guilty about?
What?
“Hello? Mrs. Bristol? Hello?”
“Yes, duckie, I’m here! Can you hear me?” Mrs. Bristol’s voice is cracking all over the place and her words are breaking down.
“Yeah, yeah, I can! How are you?”
“I’ve just landed!” Mrs. Bristol yells, and I feel my heart freeze in my chest. “Headed to get my luggage now!”
“Oh shit.”
“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that, duckie,” Mrs. Bristol says, and I have to fight to swallow
