Dirty Letters

We’d made it through the beginning part of our trip with no complications. The Airbnb I’d rented for us on the Lower East Side of Manhattan was as private as expected. So I’d had no qualms whatsoever about leaving Luca alone while I traveled to Connecticut on Saturday. I’d checked in on her a couple of times, and she’d reported that she was getting some good writing time in.

On the drive back that night, I couldn’t wait to get to her. I’d had the entire evening planned. We’d order some of the best pizza in New York—with pineapple on top of course—open a bottle of wine, and then just “Netflix and chill” all night. Tomorrow, I had no obligations. We’d have the entire day to just lounge around. That was my idea of heaven—a lazy Sunday.

“Honey, I’m home,” I announced upon entering the brownstone.

The place was quiet. Hmm. Perhaps Luca was sleeping?

I yelled out, “Luca? I’m back!”

Still nothing.

After thoroughly searching the first level, I could see she was nowhere to be found.

“Luca?”

I headed upstairs to find that she wasn’t in bed. My heart started to speed up a bit. She wouldn’t have gone out on her own, would she?

“Luca?” I repeated.

It was then that I heard a sound coming from the bathroom that was located off our room.

Her voice sounded weak from behind the door. “Griffin? Griffin . . . help me.”

I ran to open it only to realize it was locked. She’s locked inside.

“Open the door, Luca.”

She was sobbing. “I can’t. It won’t open.”

Fuck!

“What do you mean it won’t open? You didn’t lock it yourself?”

“No. It’s broken. It locked behind me. I can’t get out. I’ve tried everything. It won’t open.”

“What the fuck? How did this happen?”

I shook the doorknob with all my might. It wasn’t budging. I was going to have to break the door down. But I knew the bathroom was small and I didn’t want to hurt her.

Think. Think. Think.

Taking a deep breath in, I said, “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to need you to stand at the far edge of the tub. I’m going to kick the door in.”

She wasn’t responding, but I could hear her whimpering.

Leaning my head against the door, I asked, “Are you with me, baby?”

“Yes . . . yes,” she said through tears.

“Okay . . . tell me when you’re ready.”

After a few seconds, she said, “Okay. I’m standing on the edge of the tub.”

“On the count of three, I’m going to kick the door in as hard as I can. Stay back and cover your head, just in case it goes flying toward you.”

She didn’t answer.

“Luca . . . answer me.”

“I hear you,” she finally said, her voice trembling.

“Alright. Here we go. On the count of three. One . . . two . . . three.” Boom! I kicked the door with all my might. It opened but fell off the hinges. It was now leaning against the tub. Luca came out from behind it, thankfully safe and sound.

We’d gotten lucky. The bathroom was so small that I could have seriously injured her in the process of breaking the door down. The only light was coming from the bedroom. I now knew why she was so panicked. There was no light in the bathroom. It had been pitch-black while she was locked inside.

Luca was shaking as she fell into my arms. She then burst into tears.

How the fuck did this happen?

“How long were you in there, baby?”

She shook her head over and over before speaking. “I don’t know. Maybe a half hour. I lost any concept of time. All I’d tried to do was go pee. I shut the door behind me thinking the light switch was inside the bathroom, not remembering it was outside the door. There was no light. I tried to kick the door down but wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t have my phone with me. Thank God you came home when you did.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re safe.” Leading her to the bed, I cradled her as we lay against the headboard. “God, I thought there was nothing that could possibly go wrong in this place, that I could leave you with no problems. I never imagined something like this would happen. I would have never left you had I known.”

“It’s not your fault. Anyone else probably could have handled it. I can’t handle anything, Griffin, least of all being trapped in any way.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Anyone would be freaked out to be stuck in a tiny, dark bathroom with no windows, even if they didn’t have a panic disorder. You had no idea when I’d be back. Your reaction is completely understandable.”

She wiped a tear. “I just kept praying the whole time, praying that you’d come home. Eventually you did.”

After Luca calmed down a bit, I ended up calling the owner of the property to give him a piece of my mind for having a door that could trap someone in the first place. That was a major hazard. After taking out my anger on him, I drew a bath for Luca and myself in the other bathroom and ordered takeout.

Holding her in my arms as we watched a movie that night, I vowed to do whatever it took to make the rest of the trip a positive experience for her. After all, how much worse than tonight could it get?

After a stop in Detroit, the rest of the trip had been uneventful until we got to the last destination—Chicago. The original plan was to stay at a bed-and-breakfast just outside of the city. Then the owner called to say a pipe burst and that we wouldn’t be able to stay there. It had been late when we got that news, and no one was returning my calls for last-minute Airbnb vacancies. Somehow I’d convinced Luca to stay with me in the penthouse suite of a high-rise hotel. I’d stayed there several times in the past and knew it offered a private elevator for penthouse guests. I figured it was the best option for us in the city and offered the least opportunity to be noticed.

This particular penthouse was one of the nicest I’d ever stayed in. Overlooking downtown Chicago, the four-thousand-square-foot space featured panoramic views and ornate furnishings. It was lavish, to the point where I’d worried that maybe she would think I was showing off. But thankfully, Luca seemed to be able to relax a little and really enjoy staying there.

I’d go to shoot the music video during the day, and Luca would stay in the suite and write by the window. She said the view of the city had given her lots of inspiration for the urban-based story she was plotting. It would be set in Chicago. I was thrilled that we would be ending this trip on a positive note.

Unfortunately, that all changed on our third night. Luca and I were sound asleep when a loud noise caused us to jolt out of bed. It took me a few seconds to realize it was the fire alarm.

Fire?

No.

Please, no.

Anything but this.

This was bad. Very bad. Worse than anything that could have transpired.

Her eyes were half shut. “What’s happening?”

“It’s the fire alarm. We have to go. Get your clothes on.”

Luca froze. I was an idiot if I thought she was going to be able to calmly get dressed at a time like this. I knew I needed to help her find her clothes and get her dressed myself. After grabbing her long T-shirt that was lying on the floor, I slipped it over her head. I threw on my jeans and a T-shirt and went in search of her flip-flops and my shoes. After we were both clothed, I grabbed her by the hand and led her to the door. I knew it wasn’t safe to take the elevator in the event that this was a real fire. We would have to take the stairs. Unfortunately, the stairwell wasn’t private.

Her hand trembled in mine as we made our way down the first set of stairs. Her body was limp as she let me lead her.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

As swarms of people started to clog the stairwell, I knew this was becoming a very bad situation. Luca wasn’t saying anything. She didn’t have to. I knew this was her biggest nightmare come to life. And goddammit, I’d put her in this position; I’d failed her again.

“Stay with me, baby. It’s going to be okay. We just need to go downstairs, and then I’ll get you away from all these people.”

“Do you think it’s a real fire?” she finally asked, seeming in a daze.

“I don’t know. Probably not. I bet it was some kids pulling the alarm.”

Her face was turning white, and her teeth chattered. “What if it’s real?”

“Then we’ll still be okay. Just keep holding on to me.”

As we continued down the multiple sets of winding stairs that seemed endless, I just kept praying that we could make it out of here unscathed. Ironically, it wasn’t even fire I was concerned about but rather the prospect of getting mobbed with no security present. No one had recognized me thus far in the stairwell, but it was probably only a matter of time.

We’d gotten down to about the twenty-fifth floor when someone shouted, “Hey, I think that’s Cole Archer.”

I squeezed Luca’s hand harder. Luckily nothing more came out of that little shout-out.

It took a long time to finally make it down to the ground level. When we did, we were greeted by a mob of people. There was no sign of any actual fire. But the real shit show—getting through this packed lobby to the door—was about to begin.

We could hardly make our way through the crowd as it was, without anyone having recognized me yet. Then the inevitable happened. A gaggle of girls eventually spotted me in the crowd.

“Cole!”

“It’s Cole Archer!”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

The recognition spread like wildfire.

Suddenly I felt people touching me—touching us—hands, squealing, chaos. Everything meshed together and was closing in on Luca and me. But I couldn’t focus on any of it, couldn’t afford to look at anyone or respond. Nothing fazed me—not the people grabbing at my clothing or yelling my name, not the camera flashes in our faces. The only thing I cared about was getting Luca the fuck out of here, my eyes focusing on the revolving doors in the distance.

My grip tightened on her hand. When I looked over at her, she had tears in her eyes. They were also filled with terror. It crossed my mind that my being in this hotel might have somehow gotten leaked, causing someone to pull the fire alarm. Crazier things had happened. The cause didn’t matter now, though. All that mattered was getting to the safety of the sidewalk.

When we finally made it past the mob and the cold night air hit us, I pulled Luca in my direction and just fled. Still holding hands, we ran as fast as we could from the hotel. I just needed to get away from all of it so I could think straight.

About three blocks down the road, we finally got to a point where there was no one else in sight. Luca was still shaking as I pulled her into an alleyway and leaned her against the wall of a brick building. I cradled her face in my hands, bringing her forehead to my lips.

Whispering, I said, “It’s okay, baby. We’re fine. Everything is fine. You’re gonna be just fine. My brave girl. I love you so much.”

But everything wasn’t really “fine.” She wasn’t saying anything, and I knew she was still in shock. She just kept crying, shivering.

All I could think was that she had trusted me, and I’d greatly fucked up. I had asked her to step out of her comfort zone. I should have known that taking her to a commercial hotel was a bad idea. I thought with the safety of the penthouse and the private elevator, we could risk it. But I hadn’t taken into account the possibility of an urgent situation. In the event of an emergency, all bets were off. I’d put her in what was likely one of the scariest scenarios imaginable, one that mimicked the very event that had traumatized her. I only hoped I hadn’t caused any irreversible damage to her recovery.

“I’m so sorry, Luca. So damn sorry.”

In my heart, I knew this situation was very bad. This trip had been about proving to her that we could make this work. I’d proven just the opposite, that I could hardly take her anywhere without something bad happening. I didn’t want to lose the woman I loved, but at what cost? Making her life miserable just so I could selfishly have her by my side? Cole Archer could never be erased. He could never have a normal life. He’d never be able to truly hide or keep Luca 100 percent safe. I’d been so blinded by my feelings for this woman that I’d tricked myself into believing that it would be easier than it is. I wanted to believe that. It isn’t easy at all. It’s damn hard. As she continued to shake in my arms, the harsh reality of the situation was really starting to hit me, the truth I didn’t want to accept: that we might not be able to make it.