Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Stevie taps her fingers on my wrist. “Look at the doorbell camera so we can see who the bad guy is.”
My money is on Mrs. Comtors. I caught her red-handed when she tried to lift the flowerpot that used to sit on my stoop.
I carried it the two blocks to her place and warned her to keep her hands off my stuff.
She winked and told me if she were thirty years younger, my stuff would be happy to have her hands on it.
I open the doorbell app and scroll through the dated footage. The delivery information puts the package on my stoop the afternoon that the Newmans were supposed to come for dinner.
I start the video at the time I left to walk to a bodega three blocks from here. I passed that fucking diner where I saw Maren and the blond guy.
I fast forward through it quickly, only picking up shots of people strolling past my townhouse.
I slow it when a white delivery van stops.
Stevie yanks on my forearm. “I want to see it too. Please, Keats.”
I drop to one knee and hold the phone between us. “That’s when the sneakers were delivered.”
She leans closer to the screen. “My shoes. I see the box.”
We watch as a delivery guy rings the bell. He says something, but I don’t have the voice feature activated during recordings, so I read his lips.
“Where are you, Mr. Morgan? Answer the damn door, so I can get something to eat.”
I shake my head.
He takes another deep breath before he drops the box at his feet and leaves.
“He just left them there.” Stevie shrugs. “He didn’t care.”
Berk walks up behind us. “He did his job. It’s not his fault if someone took them.”
I fast forward through the footage again. A few dogs walk by with their owners. I have to stop so Stevie can admire them.
When I spot a flash of red hair in the corner of the frame, my heart stalls in my chest.
“That’s Maren!” Stevie screams. “I see Maren.”
So do I.
I check the timestamp. It’s less than an hour after I saw her at the diner.
I was with Earl Newman then being chastised for lying to his family about my relationship with Maren.
I didn’t tell him that I fell in love with her.
Maren approaches my stoop dressed in jeans and a white sweater. The low-heeled boots on her feet are worn on the toes. Her hair is blowing in the light breeze.
She looks just as she did at the diner.
The three of us watch in silence as she knocks on the door twice. Her finger reaches out to ring the bell, and then again.
Her brow furrows as she yanks her phone out of her bag.
I watch her fingers move over the screen.
She’s trying to call me. The timestamp on the video matches the missed call on my phone. The voicemail she left was quick and to the point. “I’m standing on your stoop. Open the door.”
She tilts her head. Her lips move, and I lean closer to the screen.
“ Where are you ?”
Her finger jabs the doorbell again.
She tries to call again. When I listened to the second voicemail message yesterday, I heard the slight panic in her voice, and I see it on her face now. “Keats, I need to prepare for the party. The caterers are coming soon. Let me in.”
“Maren wants to see you, I think.” Stevie elbows me.
I don’t respond. I’m riveted to the screen watching every move Maren makes.
She finally takes a step back, glances up at the front of the house, and then looks directly at the door.
“ Please, be okay, Keats. I love you .”
The phone tumbles from my shaking hands.
Berk’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I saw it too. I read her lips.”
“What did she say?” Stevie’s gaze volleys between her dad and me.
“She said she loved me.” I don’t recognize my voice.
Stevie drops Budley so she can cradle my face in her small hands. “You love her too, don’t you?”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I do.”
“I want to be a flower girl at your wedding.” She smiles. “I promise I’ll do my best, Keats.”
“I promise to do my best too.” I kiss her forehead. “I’m going to do everything I can to get Maren back.”
Chapter 57
Keats
Arietta, Maren’s roommate, is a goddamn ghost.
I swear to fuck I can never catch her at home. Or she’s actively avoiding me because she wants to keep Dudley forever.
I’m leaning toward the second explanation since Maren told me that Arietta loves that dog.
Ricky raises a hand in the air to me.
It’s the fifth time he’s done that since I sat down on this bench twenty minutes ago. Tonight, Arietta isn’t going to win this silent battle we’re in the middle of.
I’m staying put until she gets home from work or takes Dudley for a walk before bed.