Page 71 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“Thank you, Mom,” I lilt. “What else is new?”

I look to Alec for a laugh, even if it’s just one to humor me, but instead I’m met with a flash of anger running across his face. He steps forward, and I flinch back, not comprehending the intensity in his eyes. I decide that sweet Alec can be quite scary when he’s upset.

“It’s ransacked,” he says through clenched teeth, his voice low but not as scary as the look in his dark green eyes. “Shit is everywhere, and I’ll bet you stuff’s missing too.”

I break eye contact and gaze around the room, noticing more things on the floor than there were. My dresser and nightstand drawers are pulled out, clothes and journals tossed carelessly on and around my furniture. The closet is open and contents from bins I kept in the back are strewn across the carpet. I try not to panic. Stuff like my iPod is replaceable, I tell myself. I’ll cancel my credit cards and…

Oh God.

I put a hand on my bare neck, heart pounding under my palm so hard that I can feel the palpitations. I rush to my feet, whipping the sheets off. I don’t care that I’m only in a T-shirt, that I’m exposed and tripping on things left behind from my random bang. I only want to get to that box I tucked away, that he saw me tuck away, and I know before I even open the lid that the necklace won’t be lying inside.

“What are you looking for?” Alec asks, and I close my mouth, just now noticing I was muttering under my breath. He’s so close that I can feel his body heat.

I stare at the empty box, running a finger over the velvet lining. “My necklace.”

Alec’s eyebrows rise, and his expression softens. I know he’s feeling the same pain that’s coursing through my body—a dull ache that’s growing and growing into sharp stabs of loss.

“What necklace?” Liz says, unburying herself from the sheets I tossed over her head. I look to Alec for an answer, but his eyes are on the empty box in my hand. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The price I paid for a night of passion that I tried to pass off as some sort of fleeting happiness was the thing that I cherished the most. Alec’s jaw clenches and unclenches, and I can tell his thoughts are swirling around and around, and I feel like I’m punching him in the heart all over again.

“Christmas present,” I whisper over my shoulder to Liz. “I didn’t have it for long, but I…” Alec finally looks at me, and he has no idea the weight of the words I’m about to say. “I liked it.”

Like always, our gazes meet and lock. I feel everything from pain to anger to frustration; I want to apologize to him, but the words won’t come out. He’s the first to look away, and I have to blink to remember where I am.

I huff at the mess I can see in the hallway and rush past Alec to see what the damage is.

“That rat bastard!” I hiss when I see the empty side table in the living room. “He took my laptop, too.”

“Do you have your phone?” Liz asks, watching Alec pull his own from his pocket.

“Doubt it.” If he took the necklace, I imagine he’s taken everything else too. All I want back is the necklace, though. He can have the rest; I won’t call the cops if he just gives that back. I glance at the clock; the party downstairs might still be going on. I decide to go down and ask around. Maybe he’s dumb enough to go back there.

I search the floor for a pair of jeans and find some in the pile of clean laundry I have yet to fold. I stuff my feet into the legs and button them up. “I’m going to cut off his nut sack.”

Liz gives me a short nod and straightens her stance, because solidarity, sister.

I get halfway to the door before Alec steps in my way.

“You’re not going.”

My teeth grind together. “Move.”

Alec shakes his head, his blond hair disheveled, and my mind races to what made it look like that, which is ridiculous at a time like this. He brings his phone slowly to his ear, and before I can tell him my brilliant plan to get the necklace back, he starts speaking into it.

“Hi, I’d like to report a robbery.”

—

Under the sheets, Liz’s phone lights up with Alec’s next message. She’s sleeping next to me in her bedroom, and I’ve kept the ringer on silent so I don’t wake her up. I texted Alec about an hour ago, unable to sleep—not because of fear, but because I’m so upset with myself that I can barely shut my eyes without thoughts of self-abuse filtering through my head.

Where are your extra sheets?

I squint at the message and quickly text back.

Are you at my apartment still?

This whole time I thought he was at home in his bed in a room I still have yet to see. Seems unfair that I still haven’t seen his bedroom, but then I remember that I’m the one who turned him away.

Wanted to clean it up. You don’t want to deal with it in the morning, I’m sure.

---