Chapter Eighteen AvaI’m nervous.
I ease my car into a parking spot and crane my neck to look up.
Even from where I’m parked a few blocks away, the enormous silver tower that I’m almost positive is Barrett’s building stands taller than everything else around it.
Part of me still can’t believe I’m actually doing this. The three-hour drive passed by quickly with an audiobook about the Nepalese people of Katmandu. But now I’m here, and the anxiety of highway driving in a large city like Chicago subsides to make room for a new kind of nervous, a Barrett kind of nervous.
Suddenly, the trip out seems a lot less scary than telling him that I’m here. I fumble for my phone, reminding myself that he is the one who invited me. He wants me here. He wants to see me. Just call him already. My fingers
