Chapter 7
Thankfully, the leash that bound me to him was long enough that I could roam the ground floor, I didn’t have to follow them.
The days passed in a strange, disembodied haze.
The first day, they went to see a movie, an old black–and–white classic Ava had picked Julian wasn’t paying attention. He was text- ing Arthur. After a brief work report, the “Arthur is typing..” bubble appeared and disappeared for a long time.
Finally, Julian typed, Are you requesting time off?)
17:48
Arthur’s reply came instantly. No, sir. I was just wondering if you saw the trending topics? Ms. Monroe has a new film coming out
soon.
[Is that so? Remind me to support it.]
I had to give Arthur credit. He was clever. I’d spent my ghostly time hovering over people’s shoulders, watching TikToks and scrolli-
ng through news feeds. The plane crash was still the number one story. It was impossible to miss. Arthur was trying to tell him, but
Julian had given a direct order not to speak of me. This was the only way he could gently nudge him.
After sending the text, Julian looked up at the movie screen. And he froze. He’d just realized. This was my favorite movie. I’d made him watch it with me three times. We’d usually end up making love on the sofa long before the credits rolled. Young, reckless, and
inseparable.
A moment later, he stood up abruptly.
“What is it?” Ava whispered from beneath her hat and sunglasses.
“I need some bir.”
He walked out of the theater, out of the mall, and stood on the busy street, chain–smoking until a small mountain of cigarette butts lay at his feet.
The next day, Ava was on set and Lily came down with a fever. Julian took her to the hospital himself. After getting her settled, he
stood in a corner of the hallway, staring out the window, lost in thought.
Two nurses walked by, not noticing him.
“That little girl with the fever,” one said. “She was here a few days ago, remember?
“Oh yeah, the one who cut her arm. The director of the hospital came down personally. What a production for a tiny scratch
“Rich people, I guess.”
“Remember the woman who came in with them? The one they said pushed the kid?”
“I do. The gorgeous one. She was standing right over there, muttering about bad luck and a Rolls–Royce. Then she just started cryi- ng. I gave her a tissue. She was very polite, said thank you. Didn’t seem like a bad person.”
