Chapter 11 - The Knock on the Lisbon Door
My heart seized in my chest.
Linda immediately stepped up beside me. “Did he have luggage? What did he look like?”
“Tall, dark hair, looked very tired,” Tiago explained, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “He had a carry-on bag. He seemed... distressed. I told him hotel policy forbids giving out room numbers without guest consent, so he said he would wait in the café across the plaza.”
“Caleb,” I whispered.
“There is no way,” Linda argued, grabbing my arm. “Caleb is in Japan! Tokyo to Lisbon is nearly twenty-four hours of flying with multiple connections! Why on earth would he fly across the world to Portugal?!”
“Because Tori wouldn't let him go home,” I realized out loud, a cold dread creeping into my spine.
We took the narrow birdcage elevator up to the third floor. My hands were clammy. The peaceful sanctuary we had built over the last week suddenly felt breached, fragile, invaded by the very chaos I had flown thousands of miles to escape.
We entered the room. I set my shopping bag on the table, my mind racing. If Caleb had abandoned the Japan trip and flown to Lisbon, it meant things hadn't just deteriorated between him and Tori—they had completely disintegrated.
Was he here to scream at me? To beg me to return? Or had something truly catastrophic happened back in the States?
“Call Patrice,” Linda urged, pacing the hardwood floor. “Call her right now and find out what happened.”
I pulled out my phone, but before I could dial Patrice’s number, a firm, heavy knock echoed against our hotel room door.
*Knock. Knock. Knock.*
Linda froze. I stared at the dark wooden door.
“Myrna?” a muffled voice called from the hallway.
It wasn't Caleb.
The voice was female, trembling, choked with tears, and completely hoarse.
I walked slowly to the door, pulled back the brass latch, and swung it open.
Standing on the patterned carpet of the hallway was Tori.
She was alone. Her designer clothes were rumpled and stained with coffee, her hair was greasy and pulled into a messy knot, and her eyes were swollen and bloodshot from hours of crying. She had no luggage, only a small designer purse clutched against her chest like a shield.
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She looked at me, her lower lip trembling violently.
“Mom,” Tori sobbed, her voice breaking completely. “He left me. Caleb left me at the airport in Tokyo, took the passports, and I don't know where he went.”
