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She’s not wrong. And neither was I in my assessment of her. The only inaccuracy in her statement is that I’m feeling better about myself or sleeping at night. Though some of it has to do with my father’s trial, I’ve also had several nightmares related to the building and its residents.

Norman leans over to kiss her cheek. “What Jane means to say is we hope you reconsider. We fell in love here.”

“Thanks to a little nudge,” Jane adds with a wink. “I’m not sure he would have noticed me if we hadn’t gotten stuck in the elevator. And believe me, I was trying to get him to notice.”

The story, which they also told me the other day, reminds me of Galentine and her whispered pleas to the universe … or the building.

This building definitely has a type. And I’m not sure what it says about me that I’ve started to settle in here.

Bellamy says, “We’d love to hear the story, if you have time.”

Theshortversion of the story, I want to add since I’ve already heard it once.

I turn to Bellamy and ask, “Don’t you need to get back to the city?”

“I’ve got a little time,” Bellamy says.

“And we’ve got nothing but time.” Moving faster than it seems possible for someone with a cane, Norman drags over nearby chairs for his wife and himself for what I know will be anything but short.

Bellamy leaves, and with Willa working on an order, my apartment feels emptier than it did the night I moved in. Forget the new curtains and the tiny details Willa’s added—the space feels cavernous and bare.

Solitude used to be a comfort to me. Now, it feels … stifling.

I rub a hand over my chest, deciding that maybe a run will help dispel the tight clutch of emotion pinching my chest.

What did you want to tell me?Willa asked after she finished talking last night.

After she shared her struggle with agoraphobia, there was no way I could ask her to come to New York with me for my father’s trial.

I said it was nothing important and that we could talk about it later.

Thankfully, she didn’t press me on it. Today, she’s been busy and didn’t follow up. Which is just as well. The last thing I’d want is for Willa to feel pressured.

Willa’s struggle with agoraphobia must feel absolutely crippling—especially after how Trey responded and what he did. I’ve never wanted to resort to violence more than after she told me what he did. I can only hope I don’t see him again anytime soon.

But finding out Willa can’t leave Serendipity Springs right before I was going to ask her to come with me to New York feels somehow pointed. Intentionally specific. Darkly ironic.

And now, I’m dreading the trial even more than before.

I don’t usually run at night, but I’ve got restless energy I need to burn off. Heading to my room, I loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt, leaving my clothes scattered behind as I walk. I toe off my dress shoes one at a time, stepping out of them in the doorway, ignoring the tremor in my hands and the increasing tightness in my chest.

It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. You never planned on having Willa with you in the courtroom. Nothing’s changed. Bellamy will be there. You’ll be fine.

It's been years since I’ve felt this build of pressure in my limbs, so I don’t realize at first that it’s more than simple anxiety or worry.

But as I slide open a drawer to pull out my running shorts, my vision blurs and my chest tightens until I collapse to my knees on the rug at the end of my bed, fighting for every breath in the clutches of a full-blown anxiety attack.

Chapter Nineteen

Willa

It’s beenweeks since my closet has hurled me through its fickle, invisible, improbably impossible portal.

So, as I’m rooting around in there for my pajama pants after I’ve finished the cookie order, I’m wholly unprepared to find myself suddenly tripping over shiny dress shoes.

A collection of shoes that probably cost as much as the trade-in value on my Hyundai.

This passage from closet to closet felt a whole lot more violent than either time before, and my stomach is churning. I take a moment to orient myself, steadying one hand against the wall as I draw in a breath and wait for my gut to settle. The closet door is cracked, so I’m not in pitch darkness, which is helpful.