by Mia Kayla
I tore my gaze from his and forced my tears to stop as I stared at the darkness in front of me. “I don’t know…”
The memories of her were pure and clear and dreadful. I wished that I could have done something to help her.
He stood and extended his hand. “Let’s go.”
My glossy eyes met his small smile. “Where?”
“Somewhere we can stop dwelling on the dead and live for the living.” He jerked his head to the side, urging me to stand. “Come on.” His smile was so endearing, one of his best qualities.
I stood and dusted the dirt off my borrowed pants. He intertwined our fingers, and I followed him, hopeful that I would find the inner peace from my mother’s death that he had found from his mother’s passing.
He keyed into his apartment, and I laughed, walking in and slipping off my shoes.
“Um, taking me to your apartment, so I can stop thinking about my dead mother is a real class act.”
He touched the tip of my nose. “Guys will be guys.” He shrugged, but there was no seriousness in his tone.
My feet padded over the dingy white carpet. His apartment was a decent size—a one-bedroom studio in the West Loop of Chicago. Pictures of his family and friends were mounted in black frames in the tiny hallway that led to the combination living room and kitchen area.
The upscale furnishing of his apartment did not fit the small space. It was like he had bought the furniture first, run out of money for the rent, and had to downgrade in space. And it was awfully girlie.
“So, what do we have planned, Casanova? Or shall I say, the guy with the lines?”
A cream couch decorated with a pink, red, and yellow floral pattern sat against the wall in front of a large flat screen TV. A sleek coffee table sat in the middle of the floor. There was a PlayStation on top of the table along with other gaming accessories, a contrast to its feminine stand.
Josh gestured toward the couch. “Sit down, Princess.”
I stripped off Jim’s hoodie, feeling a huge relief now that I was only in my short-sleeved black baby tee. I’d been sweating under all the layers I’d used to disguise myself from the photogs.
“I figured, since it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere soon, you can do what makes you happy, and I can do what makes me happy.”
I was unable to hide my grin. “What grand plan is this?”
“One second.” He rushed to his bedroom and emerged wearing basketball shorts and a sleeveless cutoff tee.
“We’re playing ball?”
He reeled back. “Pfft. Yeah, sure. I have the hoop hidden here in my massive abode.” He swept one hand across his apartment in an exaggerated gesture.
I laughed.
“No.” He jumped into the kitchen, hands spread wide. “We’re baking cookies.” His smile widened.
“You know, cooking”—he pointed to me—“makes you happy. And eating makes this man happy.” He jabbed his thumb against his chest.
I rolled my eyes with an exaggerated sigh, as though he had asked me to kill his puppy. “Fine. If I must. Even though that’s what I’ve been doing all day.”
I staggered to the kitchen but almost tripped on Jim’s mile-long jeans. I rolled them up at my waist.
Josh frowned at my predicament. “You need to change before you trip and get blood all over my clean carpet.”
I quirked a brow at his idea of clean carpet. “Yes, well, too bad I left my jeans at the restaurant.”
“Wait right there.” He disappeared before returning a second later, chucking a Chicago Bulls shirt and a pair of shorts in my direction.
My lips pursed as I eyed the shirt. “Even though I’ve lived in Illinois my whole life, I’m not into the Bulls.”
“So? Neither am I. I grew up in Manhattan.”
I smiled. He’d mentioned New York earlier but not the part he’d grown up in. “You grew up in Manhattan?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged.
I slipped quickly into his bathroom, shucked off the jeans, and pulled the shorts on. They were baggy, but I tightened the string at the waistband to keep them up.
“Like Manhattan, Manhattan?” I asked, walking out of the bathroom.
I had grown up in a small country town while the male in front of me had grown up in one of the biggest cities in the nation. Our childhoods couldn’t have been more different.
He nodded. “Born and bred in the center of the Big Apple.”
I stepped over to the stool against his kitchen bar that served as his kitchen table. “Okay, I need more.” My curiosity trumped any cooking that was going to be done.
He smiled—one dimple, not two. “More what?”
I blinked and pointed to his belongings. “Your things…they look like they belong in a home and garden magazine, but it’s like you squeezed them into this tiny, old apartment. Did you actually choose this furniture?”
He glanced down at the table. “It’s my sister’s furniture. When I took off, I didn’t want a dime. After a while, sleeping on the floor hurt my back.” He averted his eyes, looking sheepish. “She moved in with boyfriend Robert when things got serious, and I got her old furniture.” He tilted his head. “What’s up with the twenty questions?”
“You know practically everything about me, and I only know tidbits about you. Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?”
He pressed his elbows on the counter. “No offense, but I think half the world already knows about you now.”
I scrunched my face. “You had to remind me, didn’t you?”
His eyes flickered with amusement. “How did you get here, Sam?”
“In the world?” I asked, being a smart-ass. “Through my mother. Born at Carbarny Community Hospital.” I smirked.
“No, beautiful girl. Here, in Chicago. How did you get to Chicago?”
“I went through the small culinary program at a community college back home but moved here for the real deal. I’m applying to Le Cordon Bleu. You know this.”
It wasn’t fair that he knew my whole life story. I wasn’t done with my interrogation.
“I do know a lot about you. Is it selfish of me, wanting to know more?” he asked.
I adjusted myself on the stool, swiveling it from left to right. “Yes, it’s totally uncool, Joshua Stanton. Now, I get a turn. What is your deal?”
“One more.” He placed his hands together, as though he were saying a prayer. “Who decided for you? Who chose that school?”
My eyebrows pulled together. “Is this a trick question?”
“Nope.”
I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him, wondering where this conversation was leading. “Me, of course.”
He focused on my bracelet. “Yeah. You see, I didn’t get that choice.” His head bowed as a heavy sigh escaped him.
I couldn’t imagine having someone, anyone, tell me what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
“Josh Stanton, at the end of the day, it’s your life and your choice in what you want to do with it.”
“You’re right.” His eyes flickered toward my lips, the lips that had been pressed to his earlier.
My phone rang in my purse on the couch, and I welcomed the distraction. Rushing to the floral sofa, I plucked out my phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, where are you?” It was Chloe.
“Um…” I glanced behind myself to Josh. “A friend’s house.”
She sighed, relieved. “It’s pretty bad here, Sam. Like, I-don’t-think-you-can-come-home bad.”
I groaned. It was no wonder Hawke had called them Satan’s Posse. They were keeping me from my own home? This was ridiculous.
“I’m coming home.” I refused to let them dictate what I did and did not do with my life.
“I highly suggest you don’t,” Chloe said. “You come home, and then they’ll just follow you to work. Harass you.”
I rubbed a throbbing spot on my temple. “How did you become the expert on the paparazzi?”
“Duh, Google!�
�� she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Repeat after me, ‘Google is our friend.’ It says that all of this should blow over in a few days. Until then, I really think you should stay away. At least for tonight. Let’s see if they get bored when you don’t show up.”
I ran one shaky hand through my hair, fiddling with my dead ends. “Fine, I guess I can go to Candice’s.”
But Candice’s place was smaller than Josh’s. It was a studio. The place was so small that she and her fiancé, Jerry, slept on a futon that also served as their couch.
“No,” Chloe said. “Don’t leave. It’s safer that way. Whose house are you at?”
“Josh’s.”
“Who?”
Of course Chloe didn’t know Josh. I barely knew Josh even though we had shared some intimate secrets about each other.
I tried to whisper into the phone, but I was sure Josh could hear me. “The Nordstrom guy.” Yes, I’d talked about him. I told Chloe everything.
She let out a low laugh. “And the plot thickens.”
“No plot,” I said quietly. “And I can’t stay here. I’m coming home.”
Then, her tone tightened. “I wouldn’t, Sam. Best friend advice. It’s not good out there. Like, I don’t even think it’s safe.”
“Fine, I’ll figure something out.” My shoulders dropped, as I felt defeated.
“Trust me, I’ve barely left my room. I’m afraid they can see through our windows with their supersonic lenses, and tomorrow, my uneven breasts will be plastered all over their magazines.”
We both laughed before we said our good-byes.
I hated this feeling, like my life had been turned upside down and there was nothing I could do to flip it upright again.
When I turned, Josh’s face lit up. “Sleepover?”
“No, I think I’ll just brave it.”
“No, you won’t,” he said, face serious. “You can take the bed, and I’ll totally take the couch. See? Perfect gentleman.” He spread his arms wide and grinned.
I teetered on the tips of my toes and back to the balls of my feet. “I don’t know.” I didn’t want to burden him.
“Scout’s honor.” He lifted three fingers in a solemn oath.
“You were in Boy Scouts, weren’t you?”
A knock on the door froze us both in our tracks.
“Shit! Do you think…” I was ready to bolt and hide in the bathroom or under the table or in the fridge.
Josh shook his head. “No. It’s probably Andy.” He laughed. “Andy was a Boy Scout, too.”
He opened the door, and I recognized his friend. He had been the guy hanging out of Josh’s car on the night of his birthday, the guy with the buzz cut where I could see his scalp.
Andy was built like a football player, not lean like Josh. Stockier. His baseball cap was flipped backward on his head, and he and Josh looked like frat boys standing together. All they needed was a beer in their hands.
Andy stepped into the living room, pizza box in one hand and a twelve-pack of beer in his other. He staggered to a stop when he realized that Josh had company.
“Hey…Sam, right?”
I slapped my palm against my forehead. “You, too? Damn gossip sites.”
He frowned at Josh, and I realized that he hadn’t known my name from the tabloids or the Internet.
“You’re Josh’s…friend, right?” The way Andy smiled, I knew that Josh had spoken about me before.
“Yes, sorry. I’m Sam. I think I met you on Josh’s birthday.” He was the guy driving Josh’s car that night.
Andy dropped the pizza on the center table in front of the TV and then strolled to the kitchen. “That’s right. And guess whose birthday is next weekend?” He opened Josh’s drawers, as though he owned the joint, opened the twelve pack, got out a bottle opener, and popped open three beers, handing one to Josh and one to me.
“Uh…” I turned to Josh.
If Andy was staying over, I’d be jumping into a cab and heading home.
“Princess over there is crashing here tonight.” He gave Andy an unapologetic look. “I’m giving you two hours, tops, and you’re outie, man.”
“What?” He slung an arm over Josh’s shoulders. “What about our bromance? The first pretty chick who walks into your life after Jenny, and I’m out the door?” He shook his head.
Josh’s face turned sour. “That was months ago.”
“That’s right. I’ve been keeping you company for months, and this is how you treat me?” he asked, feigning offense.
Josh extracted himself from under Andy’s arm. “You’d think he would have changed since elementary school.”
The side of my mouth ticked up. “So, you’ve known each other since the playground?”
Andy nodded in a continuous motion, pointing a thumb into his chest. “Transfer, baby, just like my best bud over here.” He threw back his beer, chugging it like there was going to be a drought. “So, you coming to my birthday party next weekend?”
I cocked my head. “What?”
He leaned in, resting his hip against the black countertop. “We’re having my birthday party at The Seg, this swanky restaurant that I rented out.”
Andy must have come from money, too. You could only get in The Seg with reservations. I knew the Chicago restaurant circuit like I knew how to make chocolate truffles.
“I know the place.”
“Well, you’re coming right?” He turned toward Josh. “Tell your girl she’s going.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m not his girl.”
Andy waved his hand like I hadn’t spoken. “Whatever. You’re going, Josh’s non-girlfriend.” He strolled toward the couch and plopped down, dropping his bottle with a thump on the top of the table and reaching into the box for a slice of pizza. “Dinner?”
“I’m not hungry for pizza. I’m ready for dessert.” Josh walked over, laced our fingers, and pulled me into the kitchen. “I offered my place, and all I ask is that you bake me something because I have a really, really bad sweet tooth.”
My eyes flew down to our joined hands before meeting his chocolate-brown eyes. Andy was already flipping through the channels. Clearly, he’d been here countless times.
Josh smiled again—this time, with two dimples.
Then, I nodded. “That, I can do.”
Chapter 15
A live band played in the background of the fancy restaurant, The Seg. Plush velvet couches outlined the restaurant while tables were set in the center of the room, complete with full place settings.
The heat had died down, and Hawke and I were already old news. But it had been a week since our lip-locked picture was made public. A week since he had said he’d fix everything. A week since I’d heard his voice. I’d like to believe that he was keeping his distance to protect me, but it still hurt that he hadn’t once checked on me since then.
The hot summer sun of Paris seemed like eons before. Now, the leaves had begun to fall off the trees as we approached the middle of September.
It seemed to Hawke like we never existed, and to me, it was as if my world revolved around him. I googled Hawke constantly and watched every entertainment show to get a glimpse of him. I was irritated, but I couldn’t get mad. He’d never treated me badly. He had never promised me anything. It was my own fault for wishing for something that could not be.
I wanted more. I wasn’t this girl—a one-night random hook-up whenever he was in town. I was a relationship kind of girl. I needed stability. That was who I was in my core.
I stuffed the phone back to the bottom of my purse and promised myself I wouldn’t look at it again. I was here with Josh for Andy’s birthday party, and besides the two men, I didn’t know anyone.
The posh restaurant was packed with people who reeked of wealth. I took in all the women in their makeup, fitted cocktail dresses, and four-inch designer heels along with the thousand-dollar handbags slung over each of their shoulders. Most of them were standing next to guys who were as equally good-looking. All the
men exuded power in their semiformal wear—some in pinstriped button-down shirts and crisp pressed pants while others were in a full-on suit and tie.
My hands flattened against my mid-length black skirt that hit right above the knees. I’d borrowed it from Chloe’s closet. She was a marketing exec and wore suits daily, so I had known I’d be able to find something appropriate to wear. The Seg was fancier than any floral summer dress in my closet, so I had outsourced for the occasion.
I glanced around, looking for Josh, but a tall blonde caught my eye. She was stunning with her Pantene-sleek hair that rested in the middle of her back and her scooped-neck cocktail dress that hugged her model frame.
Two men were vying for her attention, and I could understand why. She was beautiful.
Where my hair was a dull sandy-blonde, hers was a shiny platinum, almost white blonde, tucked behind her ears. She stood out from the rest, like the star actress on a movie set. Her black dress was accented with white pearls around her neck. Simple but elegant was how I’d describe her.
I straightened in my seat when Josh strolled back from the restroom.
He pulled out his chair and sat down. “Hey, thanks for coming. Did you see Andy’s face when you came in? He totally thought you wouldn’t show.”
I shrugged. “No problem. Maybe I should have dressed up a little more. I feel so…I don’t know.”
He ducked his head and angled in closer. “Pfft. These women have nothing on you. Trust me.” His intimate stare did not waver, holding a sensuous flame. He’d been staring at me like this since he picked me up from my apartment.
Where I didn’t fit in, Josh totally did. Hair slicked back, skinny tie and suit on. Whatever he did, you couldn’t take the wealth out of his appearance.
“So, this is your crowd?” I asked.
He rested back in his chair. “Nope. My crowd is Andy and Will. Will was the other guy that was with me on my birthday. These guys are just their friends.”
He pointed his beer bottle in my direction, and I clinked my wine glass against it.
“So, did Will come from Manhattan, too?”
“Nope. Andy and I went to prep school together. We met Willy while playing ball in Chicago.” He glanced back at his friends, who were laughing against the bar.
