When I Stopped Waiting for You

Three minutes after I left the group, Evan texted me.

"Add yourself back."

No asking why I left. No asking if I was upset.

A second message followed immediately.

"There are still a lot of people from the company watching. Don't throw a tantrum right now."

I stood outside the hotel entrance.

It was one in the morning. The wind drove the rain beneath the covered walkway, soaking the tops of my shoes.

I had spent eight hours on that overnight bus to get here.

I thought I'd at least get a "thanks for coming."

My phone lit up again.

"Mia, Evan had a lot to drink. I'm taking him home first. Just find a hotel nearby. Don't make him go out of his way."

The message was from Nicole.

As if she were Evan's next of kin, and I, his girlfriend of five years, was just an outsider waiting for her to decide what to do with me.

I called Evan.

He picked up just before the call rolled to voicemail.

"What now?"

I heard a car door close in the background.

In the background, I heard Nicole remind him, "Put on your coat. It's cold out."

I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle.

"You promised that once the company went public, I could move into the apartment."

He paused for two seconds.

"Nicole's handling the post-IPO handover. She's been working overtime every day, so I let her stay in the guest room. You showed up without warning, and the place isn't ready. Just stay at a hotel for now."

We had picked out the sofa, the curtains, and the dining table for that apartment together.

He said once I transferred to Ashford, we'd get married.

Now someone else had gotten the guest room first.

"Every hotel nearby is booked."

Nicole's voice moved closer to the phone. "We had a lot of clients in town for the launch. Every nearby hotel was booked solid a week ago. Why didn't you check with me first?"

Evan sighed.

"Wait in the lobby. I'll send the driver."

"What about you?"

"Nicole has a stomachache. I'm taking her to the hospital."

Three months ago, I had food poisoning. I sat alone in the ER hooked up to an IV, and called him four times. No one picked up.

The next day, all I got was:

"Send it to the group. Nicole will handle it."

I asked quietly, "Evan, do you remember that I have stomach problems too?"

"Everything's fine. Why do you always have to make it a competition?"

Nicole laughed and smoothed it over. "This is all my fault. Evan, go take care of Mia first."

"Don't play tough. Your face went white just now."

Then he told me, "The driver will be there in twenty minutes. Don't wander off."

The call ended.

Half an hour later, the driver dropped me off at a budget hotel twenty-five miles away.

On the back seat lay a blue-gray scarf, the one I had knitted for Evan last winter.

He said the color was too dull and never wore it once.

Now, Nicole's hair clip was pinned to it.

The driver followed my gaze and explained, "Ms. Pearce is always leaving things behind. Mr. Crawford said to keep the scarf in the car so she'd have it when it got cold."

The only room left at the hotel was a storage room with a drafty window and mildew creeping up the walls.

I pulled the transfer notice from a compartment in my suitcase.

Mia Harper, Store Manager, Ashford Branch.

I had spent six months fighting for this, planning to surprise him.

At three in the morning, Evan sent me the hospital bill.

"Nicole's fine."

"Be at the office by nine tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

I sent back one word.

"Okay."

He didn't know that the deadline to confirm my transfer was also nine the next morning.