Page 143 of Blue Gold

Pulling one hand out, I covered my smile. “That’s very sweet of you, but it won’t be needed.” Currently, I had far greater things to care about.

Sherry brushed her arm while nodding. “In case you ever change your mind, my offer stands.”

“I appreciate it.” I smiled at her. “Now, you better go home. You had a long day.” I sighed, brushing a hand through my hair. “We both did.”

After telling Sherry goodbye and promising her I’d write her a recommendation letter if she ever needed one, I left to go home. The traffic was chaotic as ever, and eager to hear Elliot’s voice, I called him. Only, he didn’t pick up. It got me worried, yet understanding it was late and that he might be asleep, I refrained from calling again.

I hoped relief would strike me after I reached home, but it didn’t, and walking into a completely dark apartment only increased my nerves.

“Elliot?” I called, flicking on the lights to stare at an empty place. A crease formed between my eyes as I looked around the kitchen, which was as clean as I had left it this morning. Moving further into the house, I called his name again, but there was no response. My pulse kicked up a notch, and nervously, I walked fast to our bedroom. Turning on the lights there, too, I first checked the bathroom, then the closet, before going back out. It was only then that I noticed a letter placed on my pillow.

With my heart in my throat, I walked over to my side of the bed and picked up the envelope, sitting down on the mattress as I pulled out the letter.

My Dear Daniel,

I was never good at goodbyes, which is why I’m writing this letter, as I’m not sure I could bear to do it in person.

You taught me love, and I’ll forever be grateful for it. The best moments of my life were next to you, and nothing in this world will ever compare to the happiness you showed me. But while I love you, I can no longer live life as a secret. I understand the reasons why you need to stay hidden and keep our relationship away from this world, but I can’t do it anymore. Still, please know my heart holds nothing but love for you, as there is not a shred of regret in me.

By the time you read this letter, I’ll be long gone and out of your life. Please don’t come after me, as I don’t want to be found.

This is goodbye, my love.

Forever yours,

Elliot.

As I reached the final word, tears clogged my vision, and I had to blink them away. Fear, sadness, and shock all gripped me in a chokehold, and not understanding if this was real, I read the letter all over again. This can’t be. My body froze as my mind went numb. Elliot couldn’t just… leave?

In desperate need to grip reality, I got up and ran to the closet. Turning on the lights, I scanned it to find his suitcase was gone. And while some of his clothes were missing, too, I still didn’t believe it. Running to my home office, I tore the lavender painting from the wall to reveal the safe hidden behind it. Then, with shaking fingers, I typed in the security code. It clicked open, yet before checking inside, I prayed for God to be on my side. For no good. Opening the safe, I saw Elliot’s passport was gone, and instead, his cell phone was placed there.

My heart shattered.

The pain was real, grasping my chest like it did that night on the beach when I chased him away. Apparently, I’d learned nothing, and my cowardice, once again, came at the price of my love.

The world felt like it was closing in on me as fear gripped my mind. Completely lost, I had no idea what to do. A sense of doom settled in my stomach, making every breath painful. It felt as if the floor were slipping from beneath my feet, and everything around me was slowly collapsing.

Like a fool, I’d allowed him to slip from beneath my fingers.

Yet again.

45

DANIEL

Grief would be the most accurate way to describe the catatonic state Elliot’s absence left me in. Unable to eat, drink, or sleep, I felt like a ghost, searching for its purpose. In the first three days after he left, I sank into a state of depression, reading the letter he left me over and over in a desperate attempt to make sense of it. But at the end of those three days, I realized there was no sense, because Elliot would never leave me for those reasons. Yes, I knew he was struggling with us needing to hide our relationship, but at the same time, he constantly urged me not to rush it and to only come out when I was ready. This sudden change in heart didn’t align with me or him.

My suspicion that he’d lied in his letter became stronger after Vito told me what the two of them had spoken about just hours before Elliot left. Thinking it would push him in the right direction, Vito told Elliot about his ex-lover, who tragically passed away after fighting his eating disorder for years. In the unstable state Elliot was currently in, I could only assume how frightened he must have been afterward.

Enough to leave me.

Of course, there was the possibility I was mistaken and that he did leave after having had enough of me. But in that case, he’d have to say it to my face so I’d believe it. Therefore, with that thought in mind, I knew I had to follow him, but there was one problem—I had no idea where he was.

Since he’d left his phone behind, leaving no way for me to reach him, I had to rely on the old-fashioned ways and track him down. My first and most certain guess was that he went back home, but apparently, I didn’t know where that was either, because in the whole time we’d been together, never once had he told me the name of his village. All I knew was that it was in Provence, but Provence was huge. Funny, wasn’t it? That I didn’t know the most basic details about the man I planned to share the rest of my life with.

That was why, a week later, the floor of my apartment turned into a map of the last two years in Elliot’s life. Every cover he was on, every interview he did, I collected it all, hoping that somewhere in between those words, I’d find the clue that would help me track him down. But there was none—not even a single detail that indicated where he might be. Even the private investigator I’d hired was only able to come up with the address of an apartment he’d rented in Paris before moving to the USA three years ago. Clearly, it wasn’t enough, and not even Vito was able to help me, as Elliot wrote down this condo as his address in all of their contracts.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I bent down and picked up a magazine that covered his appearance in a fashion show he did in Monaco. Flipping through the pages, I looked at his many photos. It was from when, a year ago? Perhaps a bit more, but either way, with those pictures right in front of me, I noticed how much weight he’d lost. The change was suddenly so vivid, and I wondered how I’d missed it.