“Wow,” Alex said when I opened my front door.
I looked down at my navy dress. It wasn’t especially low cut or clingy, but it fit me well and could be dressed up or down depending on the occasion. In the past I’d paired it with a blazer and pumps and worn it to court. Tonight, I donned silver high-heeled sandals, dangly earrings, and the diamond bracelet Jonah had given me on our last wedding anniversary. It was the first time I’d worn the bracelet since Jonah died.
“You said to look pretty,” I replied.
“You do,” Alex said, still staring.
I supposed I should’ve been flattered, but I wasn’t. I found Alex’s attention unsettling. I grabbed my silver wrap and evening bag off the entryway table and said, “We should go. I’m sure Igor doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I hadn’t planned on napping on the drive down to LA. I’d been practicing my mindful breathing to quell my anxiety and apparently relaxed myself so much I fell asleep. When I awakened, we were exiting the 405 freeway at Sunset Boulevard.
“You ready for this?” Alex asked as we sped east along the winding road, which on this end of town was flanked on both sides by gated driveways, tall hedges, and mansions set far back from the street.
“No.” I felt like I might vomit.
“Relax. You got this.”
I definitely did not have this, and there was no way I could relax. I turned away from him and stared out the passenger side window, watching as the red brick buildings of UCLA gave way to the mansions of Beverly Hills. Then we crossed into West Hollywood and the scenery abruptly changed. This was the Sunset Boulevard everyone knew from countless movies and TV shows—the famous clubs, the glowing neon signs, and the ever-present paparazzi.
Alex pulled his BMW to a stop in front of Lava. Before I could open my door, the valet opened it for me. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and a photographer immediately pointed his camera at me, then dropped it when he realized I wasn’t a celebrity. I was grateful for his disinterest, but it didn’t quell my anxiety. I was starting to feel lightheaded. That’s when Alex appeared at my side. He grabbed my arm and held me upright. “Do me a favor,” he whispered. “If you’re gonna puke, warn me first.”
“Do I look like I’m gonna puke?” I heard the words and knew they came out of my mouth, but my head felt detached from my body.
“Yes,” he said, right before I leaned over into a flower bed and vomited. When I stopped heaving, Alex pulled me upright and propelled me through the restaurant’s famous red leather doors. Then he dragged me down a long hallway and stopped in front of a black door with the universal symbol for the women’s restroom in red glitter. “Go fix yourself up and decide if you really want to do this,” he said. “It’s not too late to back out.”
“It is too late. We’re already here.”
“It’s not,” he insisted. “But you need to decide now.” Then he pushed open the ladies room door and nudged me inside.
I stumbled into a stall, hiked up my dress, and sat down on the toilet with my head in my hands. Why on earth did I think I could do this?
Because you can.
I can’t.
You can and you will.
I can’t.
Then I caught sight of the diamond bracelet sparkling on my wrist, and I could practically hear Jonah’s voice in my head. Feel the fear and do it anyway. I laughed out loud. Jonah loved reading those business-y self-help books. I used to tease him about it all the time. I bet he repeated those words to himself before he met with Volodnik too.
Yeah, and look how well that turned out.
But he still did it, didn’t he? He felt the fear and he did it anyway because he loved his brother and would do anything for him.
And you loved Jonah and Amelia. Nothing you do will bring them back, but you can get justice for them. Don’t you owe them that?
I heard the ladies room door bang open and then Alex’s voice call my name. I jumped up from the toilet and flushed even though I hadn’t peed and stepped out of the stall. It was just the two of us in the restroom, but I still said, “You can’t be in here.”
“Decision time,” Alex said and held up his phone, which was buzzing with a number I didn’t recognize. “It’s Igor. Are you doing this or not?”