She Doesn't Want You Here

Aaron

I hadn’t heard from Henri since that morning’s phone call. I kept replaying our conversation, trying to remember anything I might’ve missed as a sign of her being upset with me. I’d yet to hear back from Mia too. I’d responded to her text, asking what she meant by “share.” Was it possible she had shared it somewhere where it’d gotten back to Henri?

That wasn’t like Mia at all, but then a text sent at that ungodly hour could mean only one thing. She’d been drunk, and she wasn’t herself when she was drinking. I’d also tried calling and texting Henri more than once after several hours of not hearing from her. It was already past eleven that night and still nothing. I was the last one at the office and about to call it a night when my phone rang. I rushed to my desk where my phone sat and picked it up, glancing at the screen. Mia.

“Hey,” I answered.