DEVON: Sorry, babe, Grant Carey came over. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Love you.
Ah, there we go.
So, his idol came back over to talk to him, and he went into fan mode. Devon doesn’t believe he can do something by himself—that he’s good enough to just grab the bull by the horns and go for it, but hopefully Grant Carey gave him some good advice.
He’s got some money saved from his grandad’s death, but I know he doesn’t want to use that unless he has to. It’s not much either, but itcouldput a deposit down on a business rental at least.
Still, I don’t like that he hung up on me.
The next morning I’m up bright and early, staring at my laptop with a hot cup of coffee beside it. Today is the day—I need to writesomething.I start describing a woman walking to the coffee shop on a blustery day, only to be interrupted by my phone ringing. It’s almost eight in the morning, so it must be eleven in New York.
I bet it’s Devon calling to wish me a Happy Anniversary.
Except I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?” I answer, my brow furrowed. I hate answering calls from unknown numbers—it triggers my anxiety. Usually, it’s just spam or someone trying to sell me something, but still…
“Hey, is this Jade?” a male voice asks, worry lacing his tone. Maybe it’s his first cold call.
“Yes?”
I prepare myself for a sales spiel, but I’m surprised when he says, “It’s Ross here, Devon’s colleague.” He sounds uncomfortable, and my stomach drops.
What’s happened?
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my heart pounding.
Has he been in an accident? Is he sick?
“Yeah, uh, well, it’s just that I’m not sure where Devon is, so I wondered if he’d called you at all?”
I pull my phone away to double check I’ve not gotten any missed calls or text messages.
Nothing.
“No, he hasn’t,” I reply hastily. “When did you last see him?”
“Last night at the mixer.”
Oh my God.
Panic rises within me as I grip the phone tighter.
“Last night? You mean he didn’t stay at the apartment?”
What the hell?
Devon texted me last night after he hung up—God! What’s happened?!
“Uh, no.” Ross sounds awkward now, and I shake my head. “I’ve tried calling him…”
“I’ll call him now, thanks, Ross.” I don’t even wait for his response; my fingers trembling as I swipe the screen to reach my husband’s name in the contacts.
I hit call and wait, listening to the ringtone dragging on.
Please answer Devon.
He’s missing in New York.