“Tom, hey...”
“Megan, how are you sweetie?”
He had called her that for so long that it no longer seemed flirty. Just kind of comforting. “I’m... Well... Have you heard from Jake in the last few days?”
Tom thought for a second. “Sure, he called in from Manila yesterday with an update on the meetings over there.”
Manila? He said he was going to St Louis. Who makes a mistake like that?
“Oh, yeah,” Megan said. “Of course. It’s just that he promised to bring me back some fabric for a dress I’m making,” she lied elegantly and with surprising imagination given her stress levels, “and I hadn’t heard anything.”
“Well he’ll be back in a couple of weeks, I think,” Tom said, checking his own schedule as he spoke. “Want me to let him know you’re asking about him?”
Megan toyed with the idea, but decided against it. “No, I’ll just see him when he’s back. Must have slipped his mind.”
“OK, well I’ll see you after Andrea’s lesson tomorrow?”
“Sure. Bye.”
She ended the call, sat on her sofa by the window, and cried for hours.
Erica came home to find her curled up, eyes reddened, face a mess. Without a word, she brought over a bottle of good red wine and two glasses, opened the bottle with an experienced twist of the corkscrew, and set a very full glass in front of Megan. The stricken girl gave her a pleading, damaged look.
“Tell Aunty Erica. I won’t tell anyone except Ruby Red here, and she’s as good a listener as I am.”
Megan poured everything out, all of the details she had held back, for fear of being told that this exact thing would happen. “He treats all women this way, you see,” she explained. “And I didn’t see it, because I’m fucking stupid.”
“Don’t be hard on yourself, darling. You’re not the one who vanished without saying anything.”
Megan sniffed. “The Internet was right. He picks women up, enjoys himself, plays with their emotions, and then throws them away.”
Erica joined her tearful friend on the sofa and held her close. “There’s no way this is just a misunderstanding?”
“What’s there to misunderstand?” Megan complained. “Most guys would have said something like, ‘hey, this is getting too serious for me’, or ‘hey, didn’t I tell you I’m actually married?’ This one,” she said, stabbing an angry finger into the sofa, “he just swans off to the fucking Philippines without even telling me?”
Erica handed Megan her glass. “Then, turn the tables. You’re the one who had fun, who was jet-setting around and having some pretty amazing sex, by the sounds of it. Think of it that way: you used him.”
They talked it over until midnight, when Megan decided she needed sleep more than comforting. Erica sat up alone, finishing the bottle, and was asleep on the sofa when the apartment’s landline phone rang.
Megan emerged from her bedroom looking awful. “I’ll get it.”
It was Tom. “Megan?”
“Hey...”
“You’re phone’s turned off,” Tom said, almost angrily. “I need your help, Megan. Sorry it’s so late.”
“It’s beyond late, Tom, it’s three in the damn morning. What’s up? Is everything OK?”
Tom audibly took a deep breath. “It’s Andrea.”
Cold fear gripped Megan’s chest. “Is she alright?”
“I don’t know, Megan. She left here but she never showed up at her friend’s house. I called the police hours ago and I figured she’d just show up but I’ve been calling her phone and there’s no answer and I just...”
“Tom? Where is she?” Megan asked very deliberately.
“We don’t know, Megan. She’s missing.”
To Be Continued…
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About the Author
Hi! I’m Victoria Villeneuve. I’m a small town girl at heart, with dreams of living in a cabin in the country with my two dogs and my amazing boyfriend Mike. When I’m not writing you can usually find me enjoying a nice mocha in my local coffee shop, reading some of my favourite books by the lake or playing soccer with my friends.
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Racing Heart (The Billionaire Brothers 1) Page 6