Page 130 of More than Paper

“What are they going to do?”

Noah shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I hope whatever plan they have is foolproof.”

* * *

It’s been almosttwo months since I’ve seen Jamison. Every magazine on the newsstand, as well as TV gossip program, has pictures of Valeria and Jamison and what looks like an intimate moment at the airport. There is tons of speculation about them both, and the reporters have been digging into each of their lives.

The latest headlines discuss Jamison being a billionaire and list out his companies and whatever real estate properties they could find. The reporters also found out Jamison is married to a Valeria Gómez, and they have now put two and two together.

Everyone wants to know why the couple hid their marriage for so long and where exactly they are hiding out.

Shortly after I found out Jamison left for Colombia, my brother sent me a chain of “I told you so” text messages. I blocked his phone number.

I can hardly concentrate at work, and I’ve been so distraught, I’ve thrown up several times over the last few days.

Like a zombie, I’m walking out of work and hear my name.

I turn around and almost don’t recognize her.

“Quinn, do you have a minute?” Cindy, Valeria’s girlfriend, asks.

“Cindy, what are you doing here?”

She looks like she’s been crying. I’m sure I don’t look any different.

“I’m sorry to barge into your work. I’m going crazy and need to know if you’ve heard from them.”

I put my hand on her arm. “No, I haven’t, but come sit down.” I lead her over to a couch in the lobby.

Once we’re seated, she starts to cry. “It’s been too long.”

I take a deep breath. She isn’t saying anything that hasn’t gone through my mind. “Have you heard from Valeria at all?”

“No. Not since the night she left.”

“All I have is this text.” I pull up the one Jamison had sent me and show her.

She starts to sob.

I hug her. “Hey. We can’t jump to any conclusions. I know—” Throwing my hand over my mouth, I jump up and run to the wastebasket, as nausea overpowers me. Right in the lobby, I throw up.

Cindy is quick on my heels and rubs my back while holding my hair back.

When I finish throwing up, she helps me to the bathroom, and I rinse out my mouth and wash my hands.

“You okay?” She looks concerned.

“I must have the flu. I thought my nerves were making me sick because I feel fine after I throw up, but I don’t know.”

“Have you been throwing up all day?”

“No, I’ve thrown up right around this time the last three days.”

“And you don’t have a fever or anything?”

“No.”

She parts her lips then stops.

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