Illusions

Chapter Twenty-One

"Sydney," Regina snaps into the line, still sitting in the same position from when Allison stormed out of her own damn room.

"Mayor Mills, I am still following her, but I have some information that I thought you would prefer if I told you in person," he declares, his tone flat and insincere.

She flings forward in bed, pressing the phone closer to her ear and dropping her forehead to rest in her free palm, so she can focus solely on his voice. "What did he find?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but there is no information on Allison Cameron, writer, from New York." Her heart plummets, free falling and brutally colliding into the pit of her stomach and she thinks she might be sick.

"There has to be," she demands, squeezing her eyes closed to stop the vicious spinning whirling around her. "There must have been a dozen Allison Cameron's in New York."

"Correct, however, I know what she looks like. None of them match her identity-"

"Listen to me, there must be some mistake, she was an orphan, her parents died in a car accident when she was five. Have your guy dig deeper," she barks out, because the last of her patience has vacated her body and all that's left are hypersensitive nerves that have her losing her mind.

There's no way this is happening to her again. It can't be possible. Is the woman she's falling in love with living a double life, just like her first love?

She'll kill her.

~~~~~~

She knew the moment the phone rang twice in a row, there was an emergency. It's not like she has any friends or family that ever call that line and she knew exactly who was calling. She didn't process the weight of the situation when she received the phone call. Honestly, she doesn't even remember the drive to New York from Maine. Her mind was blank, her body working on autopilot to transport her to where she needed to be.

But now, standing outside the hospital door with her name written on a sticker across her chest, she feels like vomiting. Her entire body is violently trembling and there's a tangy acid tickling the back of her throat and all she wants to do is run. She wants to drive back to Maine, crawl back into bed with Regina and pretend none of this is happening.

Except, the door is swinging open, revealing a man, maybe in his late fifties, early sixties, but he's still very handsome. He offers a weak smile and softly closes the door behind him. His dark brown eyes drift to her name tag and suddenly that sticker feels awfully heavy, like the weight of her life is resting upon Emma's shoulders.

"Emma," the man sadly acknowledges, his hand reaching out to shake hers and she quickly accepts.

"Uh, yeah. Mr. Hadley, I presume?"

"Yeah," he whispers, releasing her hand and moving to nervously rub the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry we are meeting like this," she mumbles, feeling terribly uncomfortable and anxious and please let this all be some horrific nightmare that she's about to wake up from at any moment.

"I know and I'm really sorry to have called you, but she keeps mumbling your name and I think," he chokes on his words, his eyes filling with thick tears. "Even if she didn't want you to see her like this, her heart really wants to say goodbye."

Her chin wobbles from the cold, hard truth and she cannot bite back the tears like she had hoped for. She slowly nods, her gaze dropping to the floor so this stranger doesn't have to witness her tears, because is it really fair that she's crying over this woman that she only knew for a month, in front of her father?