Page 104 of Abyss

She giggles, swiping her tongue over her lips. “A pretty good thing. Now, that egg on your pizza, however? Definitely another story.”

A few minutes later, Kavi’s slicing up our pizzas when her computer dings with an incoming email. She motions toward it with her head since I’m opening a glass of wine for us on the table. “I bet that’s the updates from Jett and his team on the work with RCS. They’re doing a great job, by the way. Will you scan it and make sure he doesn’t need anything from me?”

She plates the pizzas, heading to the fridge to grab something while I click on her mail, confirming it’s from Jett and reading out snippets from his team, saying they are still on track to deliver their agreed-upon items.

He’s been coming to the office every week to talk shop, but yesterday we went out to lunch at Carl’s Catch. I won’t say I’ll forget everything that happened between us—the shit that separated us for two years—but I’m on my way to forgiving it. I definitely can’t deny I’d missed our easy banter and his blasé demeanor. Even when we were younger, Jett had a way of seeing the lighter side of things, and I always appreciated that about him.

Placing our plates on the table, Kavi excuses herself to run to the restroom while I click off Jett’s response. Just as I’m about to shut her laptop screen, however, I notice afolder on the sidebar of her personal email application, labeledNathan—Personal.

Nathan?

I know her brother’s name is Neil . . . so who is Nathan?

What’s particularly interesting is that it shows over a thousand emails inside it, as evident by the number in parentheses next to the label.

An unsettling sensation—something foreign yet strangely familiar—crawls down my spine as I fight the intense urge to open the folder.

It’s a personal folder, clearly marked in her personal email app. There would be no reason, no fucking excuse, for me to rummage through it, but curiosity gnaws at my insides like flesh-eating bacteria. My hand trembles over the mouse as an internal war rages inside me.

Who the fuck is Nathan, and why does she have a folder with his name on it? Is he family, a friend . . . Fuck, is he someone she’s talking to? Someone she’s fu—

I rake a hand through my hair. My stomach rolls at the thought I can’t even finish. A thought I can’t fathom.

Shit!

Is she . . . is she . . .?

No.She wouldn’t.

But do I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t? Do I know her that well at all? We’ve only been in each other’s lives for a few weeks, so how could I know her at all in such a short amount of time?

I knew Kenna for way longer and look at what she ended up doing to me.

I don’t have much time to contemplate, knowing she’ll be coming out of the bathroom at any moment, and I make the decision to peek inside.

Just a quick glimpse, I tell myself. Maybe it’ll be nothing atall, but my gut,my intuition, says a thousand emails indicate otherwise.

My heart drums as the screen fills with cascades of emails with varying subject lines:Left in the Lurch, The Waiting Place, You Have Feet in Your Shoes . . .

My eyes scan the first few subject lines while my brain rushes to comprehend their meaning—something familiar in the recesses of my mind.

Wait . . . are those words from that Dr. Seuss book,Oh, the Places You’ll Go!? I used to read it to Madison.

What’s more is that each email is addressed to this Nathan guy and sent by Kavi, but there doesn’t seem to be a response to any.

I open a message at random—one dated from a couple of months ago—skimming the first few lines.

I missed you at graduation.

Remember we’d promised each other we’d go to the same college?

Clearly, you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain. Still, I looked for you in the crowd. I looked at the empty seat next to Mom and Neil, pretending you were just running late.

Remember how you also promised to marry me in seventh grade because you said you didn’t know if I’d ever grow into my nose and that my prospects already seemed glib at best?

You were an asshole, you know that? My nose is perfectly proportionate to my face,thank you very much. But thanks to you, I’ve always been a little insecure about it, especially since there’s not a single prospective husband in sight. I guess youwillhave to marry me, then.

Fuck, Nathan, I miss you. I miss you so much, there are nights I wake up in a sweat because the thought of wanting to see you and hug you literally rattles my bones, and I—

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