Chapter 100

Exhaustion tugged at Richie’s limbs when he greeted the doorman with a weary nod at the building’s entrance.  While the band had been celebrating the end of this tour leg at the Omni Hotel, he’d been beating a path for the Charlotte airport to catch the city’s last plane of the night.  It was now three-thirty in the morning, and the performance adrenaline had worn off somewhere over Virginia.    He was tired, and he wanted to hold his girl.

Hoisting the brown leather bag back up on his shoulder, he pulled his suitcase behind him into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifty-second floor.  It was his mission to convince Allegra that someone else was better suited for this flood relief gig.  He didn’t know how yet, but he was going in with guns blazing – first thing in the morning.  His eyes had just drifted closed when the doors slid open on his floor.

Shaking the cobwebs from his hazy consciousness, he dug in his pocket for the rarely used key, and slid it into the lock.  A counter-clockwise turn of the scrap of metal silently admitted him entrance to the condo he hadn’t seen in two years – since the day he’d approved the decorator’s work. 

A flick of the wall switch bathed the living room in a soft lamp-light, allowing him to quickly take in his surroundings.  Everything was just as he remembered it.  He kicked at the door slightly with his foot until it was closed, and dropped his carryon bag beside the closet. 

The subtle aroma of berries tickled his nostrils, and he grinned.  It was her scent.  He was home, no matter what his driver’s license said. 

That scent led him down the short hallway to the master suite, where he quietly cracked open the door, feeling along the wall for the bathroom doorway.  If he could find the switch there, he would be able to see well enough to find the bed without waking her.

The berry smell was stronger in here, he noted fondly.  Almost as though she’d just come from the shower.  Blood rushed to his groin at the thought of curling up against her fresh, sweet-smelling flesh.  He wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the silken strands of her hair and spend the next six hours inhaling her fragrance.

His fingers fumbled slightly as he located the switch on the bathroom wall.  It was one of those push button things that always confused him.  Was it this way or…?  There.   The bathroom illuminated with a soft light that spilled out into the edges of the bedroom.

She said she put the bed in the corner…

He looked to find the lighted cityscape in the far corner of the room, and yes, there was the bed nestled amid all the glass.  Now to see which side she was sleeping on.

Gingerly trailing his fingers across the bottom of the bed, he sought the slight lump that would indicate her feet under the blankets.  Traveling from one edge to the other, a puzzled frown furrowed his face.  There was no lump.

He eased along the side of the mattress furthest from the window, and reached for the lamp he thought should be there, snapping the switch.

It did nothing but glare harshly on the empty bed – or nearly empty.  There were a couple of things tossed in the middle of it that he didn’t stop to notice before wild eyes darted to every corner and shadow within the room.  She wasn’t sitting in the armchair, or lying on the dresser, or the floor or any other ridiculous place that no one would be sleeping. 

A sinking sensation dropped the bottom out of his stomach, even as his long strides backtracked down the short hallway to the guest rooms.  “Allegra?” he called, pushing each door open and switching on the light, to no avail.  Both were as unoccupied as the master bed.

Panic began to bubble up and he reached for the closet in the first bedroom, flinging it wide.  Empty.

He spun a circle, charging back toward the master suite. 

“Allegra?”  he called more loudly, throwing open the first walk-in closet, then the second.  They both stood gapingly vacant, save a few empty hangers dangling on the rod.  Desperation now dogged his footsteps into the bathroom, seeking for some signs of occupancy – her hairbrush, toothpaste, shampoo.  Anything.

The bathroom was just as vacant as the closets had been, confirming for his eyes what his heart had already known.  She was gone.

Wandering dazedly back into the master bedroom, he simply stared at the space where she should be comfortably curled, waiting for him to wrap himself around her.  To cuddle against her soft backside, slip his hand up under that damn nightshirt, stroke her tummy and listen to her breathe.

No matter how hard he stared, she didn’t materialize.  Why hadn’t she waited to talk to him?  He didn’t even know where she had been headed.  Why wouldn’t she tell him where she was going?  There had to be something here that would give him an inkling as to where she was.

His eyes zeroed in on the objects lying abandoned in the center of the bed.  These were the only things she’d left behind.  There had to be a clue in their midst.

Noting the logo on the side of the small shopping bag, he knew it held the vibrator he’d sent her – still in its original packaging, he was sure.  Was that a message?  Was she trying to say make a statement by leaving it abandoned here, or was it just too embarrassing to take with her in potentially mixed company?

No immediate answers sprang to mind, so he moved to inspect the other item lying beside it – her phone.  It explained why she hadn’t been answering his calls.  Wondering how long she’d been gone, Richie’s hand curled around the iPhone, planning to check the time of her last call or text, but something else caught his eye.  Beneath the phone was tucked a piece of paper, folded in thirds.  On the outside his name was written in a decidedly feminine scrawl.

Finally something that would give him answers instead of more questions.  Eager fingers snatched it up along with the phone, and he dropped onto the mattress with slumped shoulders.  Absently, he pushed the phone’s buttons, only to find that the black screen was unresponsive.  Dead.  Scowling, he pitched it aside.

He grasped each edge of the still-folded paper, and stared at it until the letters of his name blended an unrecognizable blur.  Yes, he had a desperate need to know, but at the same time, he was afraid to find out.  Afraid he held the means to destroy everything he’d has his hopes pinned to.

You don’t know until you know.

Taking one deep, bracing breath he slowly unfolded the sheet to reveal her delicate handwriting. 

‘Richie –

I knew you would come anyway.  

By now, I suppose you see that I’ve moved my things out of the condo.  It didn’t feel right to leave them there, not knowing when I would be back – or if.

Because you see, I don’t think I can go on with this relationship the way it is.  I’m so confused about who I am, and if that’s what you need that I can’t think straight.  I have to get away for a while and put the pieces together in a way that makes sense to me.  Away from your beautiful brown eyes and intoxicating touch, because they make me forget logic and good sense.

Your first instinct is going to be to follow me, and shake me until you understand what’s going on.  But I can’t tell you that until I know what’s going on for myself. 

Just give me a little while, I’m begging you.  Then, if you’re still here and want to, we’ll talk until there’s nothing left unsaid.

Go spend some time with Ava, or your mother.  You never get enough time with either of them.  I promise I’m safe and will be in touch soon. 

But for now…  Let me go.  Please.

I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to do this over the phone.  It would have saved you a trip.

Allegra ’

The hand holding the note dropped lifelessly to his knee as the jumble of words struggled to join coherently in his mind.  They were all there, but he couldn’t piece them together in a way that meant anything.  The only three words that stood out like a beacon were ‘let me go’. 

I’m ready to commit the rest of my goddamn life to her, and she wants me to let her go?

He’d come fully expecting to discuss whatever was going on in that stubborn-ass head of hers and at least detain her field trip for a few days.  But no.  No, instead he had been abandoned with some half-assed gobbledy gook explanation that didn’t EXPLAIN a damn thing. 

Other than she was gone.  And didn’t know IF she was coming back.

His spirit crumpled with the heartbreak and betrayal.  There was never the first clue to indicate something was wrong until night before last, when she wasn’t feeling well.  In hindsight, he wondered if the writing had been on the wall, and he was too stupid – or besotted – to see it.

Jon had it right.  He WAS a romantic schmuck, and this is what happened to schmucks.

Richie had really believed she was his forever.  The one who would love him through whatever came their way, and would help him fight to keep their love alive.  He’d had women in his life that needed to be taken care of, and he’d obliged willingly enough, but she was the one he’d WANTED to take care of.  Maybe because she DIDN’T need it. 

Or, evidently, him.

Guess my money wasn’t the only thing that didn’t matter.

Behind the pitiful, woebegone voice in his head, lurked an angry, testosterone-laden man.  Slowly, but surely, he fought his way to the forefront.  He didn’t want to be heartbroken, he wanted answers.

You knew when your marriage was going south.  You knew when that skank was about to take a dump on you.  Even when they’re trying not to, women send out that supersonic signal when they’re about to screw you over.  You know, the one that’s like a dog whistle, except YOU’RE the only one who can hear it.  Did you hear it with Allegra?  No.  You fuckin’ well didn’t.  There’s something else going on here.  Don’t take this shit lying down. 

That was right.  Both of those relationships had sent up red flags with him near the end.  The women had never said a word, but the signs were there for anyone who cared to see them, and Richie very much cared when it came to his women.  He ALWAYS knew when he was walking that last mile before a breakup. 

No, this felt completely different.  The connection was still there, she was merely struggling within herself when she should be talking to him.  THIS was why he’d spent so much time preaching communication to her in the beginning.  The smallest thing could become devastating if you didn’t talk about it.

He berated himself for not being more consistent with that message.  As the first man in her life, it was his responsibility to share his experience and teach her about working through obstacles as a team.

With a set to his jaw, Richie mentally declared that he WASN’T going to take this lying down. This was NOT over.   He was going after his woman, and they would work through whatever had caused her to bolt.

Today was Thursday. 

Friday, he amended.

He would give her a couple of days to ‘sort things out’ for herself.  If she wasn’t back by Monday, he’d have the friggin’ national guard out looking for her. 

Three days, Sunshine.  You’d better damn well think hard and fast, because come Monday, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.

In the meantime, he couldn’t stand to be here.  He crammed the note and her phone in his pocket, but the bag he left where it was.  They could sell the fuckin’ place with it right there for all he cared.  It was as useless as the engagement ring in his pocket at the moment. 

Heavy footsteps plodded along the plush carpeting that lined the hallway, and he methodically doused each of the lights that had been frantically turned on only moments before.  Hoisting his leather bag back on his shoulder, he shut off the last switch and pulled his suitcase along to the elevator.

Once in the lobby, the doorman hailed one of the few taxis roaming the city at this time of night.  With an absent wave of thanks, Richie became lost in thought while the driver stowed his luggage.  It was too late – or early, depending on how you looked at it – to go to Jon’s.  Dot and the kids would understandably be asleep and Jon was still in Charlotte.

“Where to, sir?” the cabbie inquired expectantly once settling behind the wheel, his pencil hovering over the clipboard. 

Guess I’ll go with the old standby.

“The Four Seasons please.”