The Liberation of Alice Love(91)
Author: Abby McDonald

It was over, and she’d ruined everything.

Chapter Thirty

Alice spent the next week wallowing in regret, but the space and time she hoped would give Nathan some perspective had clearly only set him further against her. No matter how many pleading messages she left or explanatory emails Alice sent, he still wouldn’t so much as acknowledge her existence.

“Just call me back, please. I know you’re angry, but I think if we just talked about this…” Alice trailed off, hearing herself uselessly parrot the same lines she’d been cluttering his voicemail with ever since their fight. “I really want to explain, so just…call.”

She hung up. Alice hadn’t thought it possible to feel more wretched than when she stood outside that restaurant in the rain, but she was wrong.

“Still no luck?” Cassie passed her a consolatory cocktail, but Alice pushed it away. She’d done enough tearful drinking: now it was time for amends. If she could even get him to pick up her calls.

“No.” Alice gave a defeated sigh. “Another name for the list of people not talking to me. What is it up to now? Nadia, Julian, my supposed clients…” Even Flora had disappeared to her studio all week for an intense painting session, leaving Cassie the only sympathetic ear around. Well, somewhat sympathetic.

“Aw, screw him,” Cassie argued. She stretched her legs out on the couch, taking a long gulp of her own drink. “It’s not like you broke any laws. I checked.”

Alice shook her head. “I don’t care about the law; I care that I hurt them—him and Nadia. They trusted me, and I…I lied.”

Cassie rolled her eyes, clearly not as concerned about the ethical nuance of human relationships, but she gave Alice a conciliatory pat nonetheless. “I’m sure they’ll calm down eventually.”

“No, they won’t,” Alice answered grimly. “And they shouldn’t, either. I deserve it all.”

***

Alice dragged herself through the next long, lonely days without any of the sparkle and romance she’d so briefly tasted. Without Nathan, or her classes, or the focus of the Ella investigation, Alice realized that her life had reset to that quiet, gray existence she’d lived before any of this even began. Only now, she spent her days not in boredom or quiet restlessness, but in a terrible guilt at having hurt people she cared about, longing to be able to put things right again. But there would be no easy fix. Because although Alice was desperately sorry for having misled Nadia and angered Nathan with her deception, the fact was, she still wasn’t sure how many of her crimes she actually regretted.

“Nathan called yet?” Stefan was in the kitchen when she got back, munching on some of those Swedish crackers he loved so much. He pushed the plate toward her, but she demurred with a polite shake of her head. Then she paused. “Wait, what do you know about that?” Alice looked up with horror. The thought of Stefan knowing the details of her illicit activities brought a new shame.

But Stefan just laughed. “Nothing much, don’t you worry. Flora just mentioned you’d had a quarrel.”

“Oh” was Alice’s only reply, relieved. She crossed to the fridge and poured herself a tumbler of juice. “Where is she, anyway? I’ve barely seen her all week.”

“Didn’t she say? She’s visiting your parents for a couple of days.” Stefan took another satisfied bite. “Which means I get to be fishy breathed and slovenly until then.”

“Lucky you.” Alice gave a weak smile. “I’ll remember to keep my distance.”

Stefan gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’ll come around…I know, it’s none of my business,” he added. “But…You’ll work it out. Nathan’s a good guy. You suit well.”

Feigning another smile, Alice just sipped her juice. Yes, Nathan was a good man, and she’d lost him. “Thanks. I’ll, um, leave you to all your stinking glory.”

Stefan grinned. “I’m going to meet some friends now for curry and cigars—make a real night of it.”

“Enjoy.” Alice left the room, a touch wistful. That was true devotion, surely—relegating his unsavory habits to when Flora was gone. She was halfway up the stairs when it struck her.

Their parents were still in France.

Alice paused. Flora had to know that. She had been the one to remind Alice in the first place and show her a postcard from them, just the other day. And now that she thought about it, since when did Flora ever travel anywhere alone? If there was ever a visit or vacation, Stefan was right there with her, to handle transport arrangements and luggage and any other need that might flit across her mind. Feeling a sudden, ominous shiver, Alice hurried back downstairs and through to Flora’s studio.

It was chaos.

She’d seen the mess before, but this was something different. Alice crept inside, as if disturbing a crime scene. Papers fluttered on the floor, paints were scattered on the table, spilling dark, ominous colors over her pretty pastels, and canvases lay abandoned, etched deep with charcoal. But more than the mess, there was the sense of desperation that lingered in the air. Alice wasn’t imagining it, she was sure—there was something fierce and terrible in the spill of paint and careless scatter of all Flora’s precious pictures.

Something was terribly wrong.

Alice backed out of the room, trying to think what could possibly have driven Flora to such a fit. She’d been so wrapped up in her own misery, she hadn’t noticed anything awry.

“I’m just heading out.” Stefan was in the hallway, pulling on a coat. Alice stepped back, instinctively closing the studio door behind her to hide the scene.

“Oh, OK.” She swallowed. “I don’t suppose…Have you heard from Flora at all? Since she left, I mean.”

“Sure.” Stefan smiled. “She texted just a moment ago. Your parents send their love.”

Alice nodded slowly while he flipped up his trench-coat collar and reached for an umbrella. “Have fun tonight!”

She let him go. Whatever the reason for Flora’s flight, she hadn’t confided in Stefan. And so, for now, Alice wouldn’t either. But that didn’t mean she was just going to leave Flora to her secret despair. The moment for respecting privacy and dancing around the subject was clearly past. It was time for answers.

***

It was nine p.m. before Alice arrived at the cottage, anxiously wondering if Flora had really fled to Sussex at all. It was only instinct that led her home, and as she paid the driver and dashed to the dark house through torrents of cold rain, it occurred to Alice again that Flora could have been lying about everything, not just the welcoming bosom of their parents.