Page 63 of Old Money

Still nothing.

Despite my increasing anxiety,I doze off during the flight. I wake up as we’re starting our descent, checking my phone again. Nothing. Finally, I give in to my anxiety, and as the wheels touch down, I call him.

It rings, and rings, and rings.

Then it goes to his voicemail.

I grab my bag and rush off the plane, hustling across the tarmac where Tyler is waiting at the Escalade. But when he opens the door, I realize that Julian isn’t with him. I turn to Tyler before I get in.

“Where is Julian?” I ask. He looks uncomfortable, and he clears his throat.

“I’m not sure, ma’am,” he says.

Ma’am?

“Tyler,” I say sternly, “what is going on? Is he okay?”

He clears his throat again.

“He’s safe, Sawyer. I’m afraid I can’t say much more than that,” he says, ushering me into the car. I swallow as I climb inside.

What the fuck is going on?

I tap my foot against the floor of the car the entire drive back to my apartment. As we pull up, I look at Tyler through the rearview mirror.

“Can you take me to the penthouse?” I ask. Tyler stares down at his hands on the steering wheel for a minute.

“Sorry, Sawyer,” he says. “There’s a… He’s not there. He’s at the office. I was just told to bring you back here.”

I swallow.At the office?

He helps me out, grabbing my bag from the backseat. But before he can take another step, I take it from him.

“I got it from here,” I say. “Thank you.”

I rush up the three flights to my apartment, letting myself in and locking the door before Tyler can catch me to do the sweep. I don’t give a fuck right now, though. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can’t get a hold of the one person who can calm me back down.

I send him one more desperate text.

What the fuck is going on, Julian? Call me. Please.

I sit down on the couch, looking out over the water like I always do. But right now, I feel anything but peace.

SAWYER

An entire week passes with absolutely no contact from Julian. I’ve never been ghosted before, but let me tell you, it ain’t the most fun I’ve ever had. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a few pounds. Classes start back up next week, and I have no idea how I’m going to function. I can’t eat, my sleep has been horrible, and my focus is for shit. I’m tempted to ask for my job at the mini-mart back just to keep myself busy. But I’m not sure I could handle having to be productive in any capacity right now. After I sent that last Hail Mary text, I decided to stop reaching out. I know my mom can sense something is up, but I haven’t told her anything.

The whiplash from realizing you’re in love with someone to having them abandon you is one I don’t care to experience again. I force a bowl of soup down then curl up on the couch. I turn onCheers, and I feel the tears prick in my eyes. And like I’ve done for the last seven days, I let them fall until I drift off to sleep.

I wake up the next morning to the couch vibrating. I blink my eyes a few times, holding the phone up to my face.

102 missed notifications.

Calls from my mom.

Texts from friends from school.

Email from one of my professors.

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