Second Chance Love by Shawn Inmon

contempt, then ran to the outer doors. He burst outside and looked around for any sign of Elizabeth, but the sidewalk was empty. What the hell do I do now? Finally he grabbed his phone, turned it on and said, “Suzi, I’ve lost someone. Can you help me find her?”
    “Hello, Steve. I can connect you with the local police, or there are four private investigators within two miles of your present location.”
    He turned the phone off in frustration and walked to Valet Pick-up, where he turned his parking stub over to Dennis. The attendant set off running to retrieve his Mercedes.
    Lizzie… Where did you go?

 
    Chapter Twelve
     
    As upset as he was, there was almost nothing to be done. He drove to Elizabeth’s apartment and knocked on the door, but no one answered. It was getting late, so he didn’t want to keep knocking and bother her neighbors, or perhaps even have to explain himself to the police. He parked in front of her apartment building and waited to see if she came home. He waited an hour; no Lizzie. Frustrated, he gave up and went home to bed.
    The next morning, he went by The Prints and The Pauper, but found it closed on Sunday. He went back by her apartment three times that day, but no one answered her door.
    At exactly nine o'clock Monday morning, he called the bookstore. The phone rang ten times with no answer before an older man’s dignified voice said, “Prints and The Pauper, can I help you?”
    “May I speak to Elizabeth Coleman, please?”
    “I’m sorry, Elizabeth is not in today. In fact, she is off for the next two weeks. She had vacation time coming. May I take a message in case she stops in?”
    “Do you know, did she go somewhere, or is she still here in town?”
    “I’m afraid I can’t say…”
    “No, of course not. Yes, will you please ask her to call Steve Larson? I’m an old friend and I desperately need to talk to her.” Steve rattled off his number, thanked him and hung up.
    For the next few days, Steve followed the same pattern: drive by Elizabeth’s apartment at lunch and again on his evening commute, knocking on her door with no response. On the second day, he thought to tape a note to the door, begging her to call him. The next day, his note was gone, replaced with a new note: “Please leave me alone.”
    He knocked on the door once, twice, three times and waited.
    Nothing.
    He knocked once more, this time with his forehead, as he slumped against her door.
    “I give up, Lizzie. I don’t know where you are, I don’t know what I’ve done, and I don’t know why you won’t talk to me.”
    He turned away from the door, put his back to it and slid all the way to the ground, so that he was sitting on the dirty floor, legs akimbo. He held his head in both hands, pushing his hair back. He looked up at the dim lighting fixtures and peeling wallpaper.
    “Lizzie, I know I was wrong. I’ve thought about it a lot this past week. You tried to tell me, and I didn’t listen. You told me that you were concerned about the differences in our situations. You asked me not to be so crazy, throwing money around at the auction. But really, there’s a good reason. From the first moment I met you, I never saw any differences between us. I just saw ‘us.’” I knew your family didn’t have a lot of money, and I guess I knew that my family did, but it didn’t matter to me. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now.”
    He was not speaking loudly, but his voice went quieter still.
    “Elizabeth Coleman, I love you. I always have.”
    The door swung open and Steve fell backwards, half into the apartment. Elizabeth was standing over him wearing an expression of cold fury.
    “Oh, you love me, do you? Really? Then why would you put me through something like that?”“Lizzie!” Steve scrambled first to his knees, then to his feet. “How long have you been in there?”
    “I’ve been trapped in here all week because you keep stalking me and won’t leave me