Part 26 (2/2)
”No. I don't know them, and I don't know any of her friends. You're the only one I've met. Did she say anything to you at work about having plans?”
”No, but she acted a little strange.”
”Define 'strange.'”
”She left early, and she didn't say where she was going. Did you two have a fight or something?”
”No. Things have been tense, but she seemed fine.”
'Tense? Why tense? Nick, I told you what I'd do to you if you ever hurt her, remember?”
”Gina, I don't have time for threats. Are you going to help me find her or not?”
Gina said something in Spanish and then schooled her tone. ”I'll call Rosalie's sister on her cell. I think I have the number somewhere. I'll call you back.”
'Thanks, Gina. I'm at home.”
”Whose home? Yours or Rosalie's?”
”Rosalie's.”
Nick hung up and waited.
At midnight, Nick sat on the sofa, imagining Rosalie dead. He could hardly breathe. Gina had called him back after talking to Annabelle and Rosalie's parents, and he knew no more than before.
Nick had called every hospital in Manhattan and Brooklyn, but none had a record of anyone fitting Rosalie's description. Gina called every half hour, and every time the phone rang, he answered, thinking it was Rosalie. Every time it wasn't, he felt as if someone had kicked him in the gut. The minutes dragged like hours, the hours like weeks.
A little after three, Dave barked. Nick heard the snick of the lock, then Rosalie walked in. She didn't see him at first. She tottered in as if she were walking barefoot over broken gla.s.s, throwing her coat in the vicinity of the couch and her handbag on the table. When she flipped the light on, she saw him. He heard her gasp.
She'd been out with G.o.d knows who, while he'd been calling hospitals, picturing her floating in the East River, dreading the phone ringing, and praying it would. She was alive, thank G.o.d. Relief rolled over him, and then anger filled the void. He wanted to kill her for putting him through eight hours of h.e.l.l. He wanted to hold her and never let her go. He wanted to handcuff her to him, so he'd never again have to wonder where the h.e.l.l she was. Oh, yeah, and he wanted to punch something.
He rose, his body feeling as if Rosalie had thrown him out of a speeding truck and backed over him a few times for good measure. He went to the closet, got his jacket, and pa.s.sed her on the way to the door.
”Nick.” She reached out and touched his arm.
One look, that's all it took. She dropped her hand to her side and stepped back. Nick walked out without a word.
He stood on the sidewalk, fighting for breath. He hadn't known a body could hurt so much without being hit by a bus or shot. Pulling his cell phone off his belt, he punched in Gina's number. h.e.l.l, he'd called her so many times that night, he'd memorized it.
”Nick?”
”Yeah, she's home.”
”Is she all right?”
”She's fine, as far as I could tell.”
”Where the h.e.l.l was she?”
”She didn't say.”
”Did you ask?”
”No.”
”Let me talk to her.” ”I can't. I left.”
”Where are you going to go at three in the morning?” ”Home, I guess.” Christ, he'd just left his home. His home was with Rosalie. ”Nick, are you okay?”
”Yeah, I'm fine. I wanted to let you know she's okay. I've got to go.” He hit the end b.u.t.ton.
Nick walked. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care. All he knew was if he was still moving, it meant he was still alive.
Nick looked as if she'd stabbed him, and then he looked... gone. She'd barely made it to the bathroom before tossing her cookies. The phone rang; the answering machine answered. She heard Gina's voice. She didn't care.
Rosalie's meeting with Mr. La.s.siter had been illuminating. She hadn't known what to think, so she spent the rest of the night sitting in a pub and trying to make sense of what she'd learned. She had no trouble believing the story of Nick in Juvenile Hall-it explained the bad boy persona he wore so easily. Rosalie knew about Nick's mother and grandmother, but the news about his father... well. He'd never mentioned a father or the lack thereof. After spending time with Mr. La.s.siter, Rosalie had no problem seeing a young Dominick Romeo looking up to the man, but she did have trouble believing that Nick was ever a rival or jealous of Jack Jr. No, there was more to the story than that-not that she'd probably ever hear the truth.
Rosalie picked herself up off the cold tile floor, rinsed her face, and brushed her teeth. d.a.m.n it, why did she have to fall in love with Nick? Nick, who lived with her but wouldn't tell her his last name. Nick, who lay next to her night after night but was a world away. Nick, the guy she'd made a deal with and was stupid enough to fall for while she'd been busy having an affair.
The phone rang again. She ran to pick it up. ”Nick?”
”No. It's Gina.”
”Oh.”
”She says, 'Oh.' I've been worried sick since ten o'clock, and she says, 'Oh.'”
Rosalie ignored the cursing and the mention of her name in the same sentence with the devil and something else she didn't understand, but figured it couldn't be good.
”Do you have any idea how frantic Nick was? Do you know what you did to him? He was calling hospitals, chica. He thought you were dead. How could you do that to him?”
”Well, it wasn't as if he was totally innocent. He lied to me.”
”Yeah, and you knew it all along. Before it was okay, but now it's a federal offense?” ”Oh, G.o.d, Gina. I f.u.c.ked up.”
”You sure did. Now what are you going to do about it?” ”What can I do? I tried to stop him before he left, but the look in his eyes...” ”Rosalie, are you crying?”
”I love him, Gina. My timing is impeccable. I figure out I'm in love, right after I break the rules. The rules I made. How stupid can I be?”
”Pretty stupid.”
”I wanted to beg him to stay. I started to, but then... he looked at me. He's gone, and I don't think he's ever coming back.”
”What were you thinking?”
”I found out all this history with Mr. La.s.siter. Nick worked for him since he was a kid. He kept his whole life from me. I got scared. He'd been acting strange, distancing himself. I thought he was-”
<script>