Page 110 of RomeAntically Challenged
“That would be good, son.” Les swallowed and got the same tightened expression he’d worn the day of his wife’s funeral. “That would be good.”
“Oh, you probably need my number.”
Emmitt handed over his card. And how surreal was that, standing in a hospital helping his dad locate his missing identity, learning he had cancer, then offering him a ride, only to hand over a business card so his dad could contact him.
He was calling it. Day over. He was done.
Maybe Emmitt was the one who’d lost his mind. Either that or he was about to embark on locating his own identity—one that Annie wasn’t part of.
And all these years later, Emmitt finally understood his dad’s grim expression.
It was how the Jacobs men showed grief.
* * *
Annie finished her double shift and didn’t see herself volunteering to take on anymore. She was done hiding, from Emmitt, from her feelings, and from herself.
When she’d set off for her Roman holiday, she’d never imagined being grateful to have landed in Rhode Island and not Italy. Her contract was up in less than a month, and she was considering applying for a full-time position at Rome General.
She was also hoping to land a full-time position in Emmitt’s life. He hadn’t mentioned there being an opening, but the way he’d looked at her this morning when she’d woken in his arms gave her hope that there would be one soon.
Which brought her to the other thing she’d been hiding from—telling Emmitt about his dad. Les still had a few days left to come clean, but Annie couldn’t carry this secret any longer.
It wasn’t just that she knew Les had a better chance of making it through his treatment with familial support; it was also that Les’s family had become Annie’s family. And while he might be okay keeping secrets from them, Annie wasn’t.
Dropping her keys in the bowl by the front door, she walked into the kitchen to set her things on the table, next to the bags and bags of party supplies for Paisley’s sleepover. She was surprised to find all the lights off.
It was already after nine and Emmitt was usually home by now. Or at least he’d text to let her know he was running late.
After the to-do list they’d come up with earlier, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find him naked on the bed surrounded by a pool of rose petals.
Come to think of it, that was the last time she’d heard from him. She’d texted him but he hadn’t responded. Concern pinched at her throat as she fished her phone out of her purse. She quickly scrolled through all the texts, looking for his thread.
Eleven texts from her mom, five from her dad telling her to check the texts from her mom, two from Gray, and one from Paisley about a cupcake recipe of her mom’s that she wanted to make for the sleepover.
None from Emmitt.
She opened their thread and was about to ask where he was when a sticky note caught her attention.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked over and plucked it off the fridge. It was something he’d started doing a few weeks back. Leaving these cute sticky notes for her on the fridge. But by the time she was three words in, her smile felt as if it would shatter. By the sixth word she could barely see through the tears gathering, and by the time she got to the end, she was rubbing her chest.
“Emmitt,” she called out.
No response.
She read the note again, waiting for it to make sense, then raced to the bedroom, which seemed like a better plan than sitting there crying. It was empty. He wasn’t in the family room snoring away on his chair; she would have seen him.
The hits kept coming as she checked Paisley’s room and the garage: both dark and heartbreakingly empty. By the time she found herself back in the bedroom, her heart was pounding against her chest so hard, she wished it would just break free so it wouldn’t hurt this much.
“Emmitt?” she cried again.
She went to the dresser and jerked open each and every drawer he’d claimed. Empty. Empty. So completely empty. Kind of like what was going on in her chest.
Refusing to give up hope, she stumbled to the bathroom and pulled the top drawer all the way out, dumping it on the floor.
“No.” She dropped to her knees, frantically sifting through the few things that remained.
No toothbrush. No razor. No aftershave that made him smell like a sex god. The only thing left was the Bubblicious-flavored toothpaste with laughing baby animals on the tube that she’d given him as a joke when he’d used hers without asking.
