Chapter 9
The movers had staged everything by the door. Three wardrobe boxes, two taped book boxes, and a duffel bag zipped shut, all lined against the muted teal wall in the hallway. The crew lead stood by the elevator with his clipboard, waiting for me to tell him where to go. The apartment felt larger with Ryan's things pulled away from the walls. The cream sofa was bare again. The city lights were still warm in the window, but the room was quiet.
Mara hadn't moved. She was still in the emerald satin dress, sitting on the edge of the sofa where she and Ryan had been so close the night before. Her own small overnight bag sat at her feet, not one of Ryan's boxes. She kept tucking her hair behind her ear and looking at the hallway, at the elevator, at me.
I stood near the kitchen island with my hands flat on the counter. My gold wrap dress had loosened a little during the afternoon and I retied the belt. I didn't look at Ryan. He was by the boxes with his hands in his pockets, watching Mara.
She stood up finally. She picked up her bag and walked toward me, not toward Ryan.
"Claire," she said. Her voice was low. "Can I just stay through tomorrow? Or come back for my things? I have a sweater in the closet still."
I looked at her. I let a breath out slowly before I answered.
"No," I said. "You can't stay. And you can't come back for things on your own. If you left something here, you can text Ryan and he'll bring it out. But you don't stay here."
She blinked. I saw her jaw tighten, just a little.
"I didn't mean—" she started.
"I know what you meant," I said. My voice stayed even. "This is my apartment. I need you to leave today."
Ryan stepped forward then. He put a hand out like he was going to touch her elbow and stopped himself.
"Mara, hey, it's fine," he said quickly. "You can ride down with my stuff. We can put your bag in storage with mine for the night. Or I can call you a car, we go together. Don't worry about it."
It was the first time I'd heard him try to sound useful in two days. He said it to her, but he looked at me when he said it, checking if I would object.
Mara didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on me for a second longer, then turned to him.
"No," she said. "I'm not going to storage."
Ryan frowned. "It's just for tonight. Until we figure out—"
"I said no," she repeated. It was sharper this time. She pulled the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. "I'm not putting my stuff with yours. I'm not sharing a ride either."
The hallway was silent except for the soft ding of the elevator when the movers called it. The doors opened and closed empty. Nobody moved.
Ryan's hand dropped to his side. "Mara, come on. Let's not do this here."
"We are here," she said. She glanced at the boxes lined up like a wall between us. "You said this place was perfect. You said the movers were just for her old clothes. This is all your stuff. They're taking all of it."
He didn't answer. His face got red along his neck. He looked at the boxes and then at the floor.
I didn't step in. I stayed where I was by the island and let them have the moment. The mover by the elevator cleared his throat and checked his watch, but he didn't say anything.
Mara adjusted her dress. The satin caught the light one last time. She looked at me again, and her expression had flattened into something tired.
"Okay," she said to no one in particular. She nodded once. "Okay."
She walked past Ryan without touching him. She didn't wait for the elevator with the boxes. She hit the call button herself and stood a few feet away from the movers, her bag held tight against her side. The doors opened. She stepped in alone.
Ryan made a small sound and took a half step toward her. "Mara, wait—"
She didn't turn. She pressed the lobby button and kept her eyes on the doors. The elevator closed between them.
May you like
He stood there staring at the closed doors for a long time. His hands were still in his pockets. The boxes were still lined against my wall. The apartment hallway smelled faintly of cardboard and tape.
After a minute he turned back toward the living room. Toward me. He was alone with his things, and there was no one left to stand next to him on that sofa.
