Flavors of Love | COMPLETE

Chapter 27

Andrew comes out of the house and wraps his arm around me.

"Bad news?"

"He cheated on me," I whisper. The tears are still pouring down my face. "He's been lying to me. Everything has been a lie."

"I'm so sorry."

I sink against Andrew, letting him hold me up. I'm so exhausted. I don't know what to do.

"Let's go inside." He rubs my back. "I'll make lunch for us."

"Okay," I sniffle. I sit numbly at the counter while he fixes two plates of bacon and egg sandwiches. It hasn't sunk in yet that I don't have a boyfriend. I have the almost uncontrollable urge to call Owen. Call him and tell him how I'm feeling. But I can't do that. Not anymore. This time, it's his fault.

"Here." Andrew slides a sandwich toward me. I try to eat it, but it feels dry and sticks in my throat. It's really, really hard not to cry.

The whole day is misery. After a couple failed attempts at reading, I just burrow under my blankets and try to sleep. It comes in fits, and I keep jerking awake before I can sink fully into rest. Ugh.

When I finally do get to sleep, I dream about Owen. I see our good times and our bad times, I see times that my brain imagined and times I really experienced. It ends with prom, and then this morning. Breaking up with him.

I wake up with salty tears on my cheeks.

My mind keeps replaying that image over and over, of Owen's car driving away. Pulling away from the curb. My own tears dripping down my face.

My mind snags on something in the memory. For a moment, I bury my face in my pillow, concentrating. Suddenly, I snap fully awake and run out of our room, to the window. It's dark by now-- it's evening-- and hard to see past the yellowy reflection of our kitchen, but when my eyes manage to focus, my stomach drops.

"Andrew," I call in a strangled voice, "Where's mom?"

He gets up from the living room and comes into the kitchen, stretching. "What do you mean? She's here, isn't she? In her room?"

"No." It's hard to breathe. "Her car is gone. It... it was gone this morning, too."

It takes a moment for my words to sink into Andrew. He pales, leaning against the counter. "You don't think... ?"

"The police would have called us if something bad happened." I'm trying hard not to cry.

He nods. "Maybe... maybe she's with her boss? I'll try calling her."

"Okay."

He puts it on speaker. The phone rings once, twice, three times...

No one picks up. It goes to voicemail. Andrew hangs up.

We look at each other.

"Check her location services," I say.

He quickly complies. "They're on... looks like she's at... the office? Oh, no, her phone is dead. Okay. No use calling her, then."

"Why would her phone be dead? Didn't she charge it Friday night?"

We look at each other. Andrew gets it first. He has to sit down. She wasn't home Friday night. We haven't seen mom in three full days.

I can tell Andrew is trying not to panic. His breathing is shallow and he's gripping the counter with both hands. "Okay," he says, "Okay, this will be fine. We just... who should we call?"

"I don't know. Her boss?"

"That's too weird."

I lean against the wall, feeling dizzy. We both know who we should call. We just don't want to.