How dare he?
How dare he take everything from me?
Was it not enough to hurt my pride a second time? To abandon me once again, crying, leaving me as confused and alone as that fifteen year old girl? Was that not enough, Chase? Do you have to take over my thoughts as well, denying me my books, my escape route out of reality?
I look up at the clock.
Forty-five minutes have gone by, and I haven’t typed a single word. I’ve not typed a single word since he came back into my life. And the worst thing about it is that I know I’ve only got myself to blame. After all, wasn’t I the one who sought him out? I was the one who gatecrashed his party. He was just getting on with his life — making money, sleeping with a different girl every night, living in a multi-million dollar apartment with no furniture.
Poor Chase, I think. He thinks he’s come so far, but I can see that he’s still that scared little boy, running away from anyone who really cares about him, in case they hurt him first.
I idly leaf through my copy of Wuthering Heights.
I know Professor Lane is right. My study of the Nineteenth Century Gothic novel is incomplete without a close reading of Emily Bronte’s classic text. But I’ve always hated this book. I’ve hated the cruel relationship between spoilt Cathy and Heathcliff, the brooding stranger who turns her life upside down.
I let out a bitter laugh in the silent library.
Is it really any wonder why you hate this book, Charity?
§
I ride the D Train in a haze, and before I know it, I’m back at my tiny apartment, sitting on my bed, trying to work. But really I’m just staring into space in a different location.
There’s a gentle knock on my door.
“Come in,” I say.
“Hey, stranger,” says my roommate Gabby, coming in and taking a seat on my bed, her thick black hair tied up in a top knot. “I haven’t seen you in almost a week now. What’s up? Have you got a deadline?”
“No,” I sigh. “And a good thing too. I can’t seem to do any work. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Woah,” Gabby laughs. “Something must be really wrong if you can’t work. You’re usually so motivated. Listen, I’m free this afternoon. Why don’t we go and go and check out that new gelato store on the corner? It’s supposed to be amazing. You need a break, and I think you need someone to talk to. Right?”
“You know what?” I say. “You’re absolutely right. I’m not doing myself any good just sitting here. Ice cream sounds like a much better option.”
§
I might not be able to focus on my work, but I can eat ice cream. After two scoops of delicious hazelnut and coffee gelato, I’m feeling much better. But what really helps is talking some of this over with a friend. I’ve been stupid to bottle this up and deal with it on my own. I guess it’s just what I was used to. I haven’t told a single soul about Chase. Not ever.
And I’m not even ready to tell Gabby the full story. Not yet.
I’ve just told her that I’ve reconnected with a guy from my past — a guy I feel an undeniable attraction to, but who keeps pushing me away.
“So he really had no furniture?” she asks, incredulously.
“Really,” I laugh back. “Well, he had this enormous, designer Italian dining table. But no chairs. And he had a bed, of course.”
“Of course,” she smiles.
“I know I should just stay away from him,” I say. “I know he’s bad news. But the truth is, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before. I mean, it’s like there’s this connection between us …”
“You mean a spark?”
“I mean like a flame,” I reply. “It’s just so intense. And when I’m with him, it’s like I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Wow,” Gabby says. “I certainly never heard you talk that way about Evan.”
Gabby’s right. She’s talking about my most recent ex-, the latest in a long line of nice boys; boys who were sweet and kind, who respected me and my boundaries, boys who you could take home to your mother, and if I’m honest, boys who I chose because they were as far away from Chase as possible.
“Evan was no Chase,” I say. “In fact, all my boyfriends have been like that. Nice, quiet, safe boys. But no one who ever made me feel like this. I’ve been running away from the way he made me feel for so long, Gabby. I’m tired of it. But what can I do? He made it clear that he never wants to see me again.”
“Sounds like you’re not the only one who’s been running away, Charity,” she says softly.
“I don’t understand,” I say.
“It’s obvious. The first major giveaway was the fact that he changed his name. He made sure that nobody from his past would ever find him again. He lives in a world with no family and no friends, too scared to even buy chairs for his dining table in case that ties him down. He can’t keep running away from you forever, Charity. He’ll crash and burn. He said he didn’t want to see you, but if I were you, I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
She reaches out across the table and rests her hand gently over mine.
“If I felt even half of the magnetic connection that you feel with this guy,” she says, “I’d do everything I could to make him see that this was too important to run away from. You know where he lives, you know where he works. Just go and see him. He can’t ignore you forever. Not if you make a scene anyway,” she adds with a wicked laugh.
Gabby’s right.
I’m not going to give up on him.
I knew, as soon as I saw him in that photograph, that it was fate, bringing us back together. I’m not going to let him just disappear out of my life again. Not this time.
I push the bike to its limits: faster and faster, the highway spinning past in a blur, but somehow it’s just never fast enough.
Out here on the road, I can usually find some release. But today? Today I just can’t seem to find that magic point where all my thoughts melt away and it’s just me and the open road.
Today, it’s like I’m trying to out-race the memory of her.
God damn it.
I push the bike faster still, feeling it burning and screaming beneath me.
If I could just make this bike go fast enough, then maybe she’d be out of my head, once and for all …
But instead, I slow down.
It’s just no good. I can’t escape her.
And as I begin to head back to my office, now at a much more regular speed, I decide to focus on my work instead — to try and push her out of my head that way.
§
“Hello, Chase.”
I freeze in the doorway.
What the fuck? What is she doing here?
I turn back to my secretary, Alice, who looks up at me with a mixture of panic and confusion, mouthing the words, I’m sorry, I had no idea she was here.
She’s sitting on the sofa, looking totally relaxed, like she belongs here — legs crossed, reading a book, her bright red Converse sneakers defiantly challenging the unspoken smart dress code of the Parker Capital offices.
“Are you going to tell me how you got in my office, Charity?” I say.
I know I should be mad, but I can’t help but be impressed.
“You’re not the only one who’s allowed to keep secrets, Chase,” she replies. “But, I don’t mind telling you, I’m learning that sneaking my way into places might just be a hidden talent of mine.”
“Congratulations,” I say. “Well, since you’re here, I suppose I should offer you a drink?”
“Yes, you should,” she smiles. “You can offer me a coffee.”
I buzz through to Alice, and ask her to bring us two coffees.
“I see that not everything has changed,” she says.
“What are you talking about?” I say.
At this, she nods towards the motorbike helmet in my left hand.
“I guess you could say it’s the only constant in my life,” I reply. “Although I’ve up upgraded a lit
tle since that beat up old Honda.”
“I don’t know much about bikes, but let me guess. Whatever you’re riding now is top of the range, correct?”
“It’s a Ducati Panigale 1229,” I say, “and you’re right. It’s a beautiful machine.”
I catch myself as it dawns on me how pleased I am to show her just how far I’ve come. Usually, I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks about me. But I want to impress her. I can’t help it.
“Top of the range or not, those bikes are still dangerous,” she says in a matter of fact tone. “I’m just glad to see that you’re wearing a helmet.”
I’ve got my work cut out here. She’s not going to be quite so easy to impress as I first thought.
Just then, Alice comes in with our coffees.
“Everything okay, Mr Parker?” she asks, shooting Charity a suspicious glance.
“Everything’s fine, Alice,” I reply. “Please close the door on the way out.”
Once more we’re alone.
I’ve gotta hand it to this girl. She’s managed to sneak her way past security, past my secretary, and right into my private office. And she’s the one giving me a hard time, making me feel like some foolish kid who needs to be lectured about road safety.
But I’m not about to let her off lightly.
“Cut the bullshit, Charity,” I snap. “What’s all this about? I thought I’d made myself clear the last time we spoke.”
At this, she lets out a bitter laugh, her eyes flashing up at me, suddenly burning with anger.
“But that’s the thing, Chase,” she spits. “You didn’t. You didn’t make anything clear. You never have. And maybe that was fine back then. We were just kids. We didn’t have the words. But now we’re both adults, and we’re going to talk this over, like adults. You can’t keep running away from me, Chase. There are things that need to be said.”
I slowly walk round my office and take a seat at my desk, putting some distance between us.
She’s right, of course. There’s still so much to be said. And we might be adults now, but I don’t know whether I have the words any more than I did back then. I was never too good at talking. Faking, sure. I can do that. I mean, that’s how I’ve ended up with my own company at twenty-nine. But really talking? Admitting the truths that lie deep within me? No way.
“Listen, Charity,” I say as I try to steel my heart against her. “I’m sorry that you can’t let go of whatever this is. But if you’ve come here for answers, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place. That kid you remember is long gone. Chase Parker has nothing to do with him.”
She looks at me unforgivingly. And not for the first time, I get the feeling that she can see right through to my soul.
“I think it’s your turn to cut the bullshit, Chase,” she says bluntly. “You might think you’ve completely changed, but you can’t fool me. I can still see old you. He’s there. I know it. But I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you about that. So I’m going to appeal to Chase Parker instead. I’m going to appeal to the guy who sought me out that night, at the party. You approached me, because you knew there was something there — some kind of connection between us. And there was. There is. You have to admit that.”
She’s got me. It’s true. I nod, silently.
“And I’m sorry I ran away from you that night,” she continues. “It was more than I could handle. I wasn’t ready for it. But I’ve had some time to think, and I want to give it another try. So what do you say, Chase Parker? What do you say to that woman you approached at the party? Because she’s here, right now in your office, inviting you to dinner. So? What do you say?”
I still don’t know what I’m more surprised about — the fact that I actually went and propositioned him in his office like that, or the fact that he said yes.
I let out a frustrated sigh as I rummage through my wardrobe yet again. I keep hoping that if I just look hard enough, the perfect outfit will materialize. Something sexy yet comfortable. Something that doesn’t make me look like a little girl, or old beyond my years. Something with just the right balance of smart and casual.
I know I should have just gone shopping this afternoon, but time and money are two things that a PhD student doesn’t have a great deal of. And also, if I’m completely honest with myself, there’s a kind of reluctance in me to change for him — even to buy a new dress.
He might have changed his name, his motorbike, practically everything about himself, but I’m still the same old Charity.
So I make a snap decision, and grab a simple navy shift dress. It’s nothing fancy, just something I picked up from a sale rack at Macy’s. But it’s smart and comfortable — not too showy, or too shabby.
And now I’ve made the most important decision, I can concentrate on pulling the rest of my outfit together.
I have a grey suede clutch bag, a stack of silver bangles, and a pair of patent grey ballet slippers. I decide to wear my hair down, simple and unfussy, and as I look through my underwear drawer, I can’t help but select my best matching black satin bra and panties set.
Finally dressed, it’s time to pay some attention to my face.
I’m not a heavy makeup kind of a girl, but I do enjoy playing with the subtle ways I can emphasize and highlight my features.
A slick of mascara, some taupe eye shadow to compliment my hazel eyes, and I make sure to highlight my cheekbones with a hint of blusher. They’re definitely my best feature, so I want to make them stand out.
It takes me a long time to choose a lipstick.
I could go full vamp red, or a pretty, delicate pink.
But in the end, I decide to go for something much more natural. A lip stain in a delicate berry color.
Pleased with my makeup, I want to check that the whole outfit works together. Unfortunately, I don’t have a full-length mirror. I never quite got around to buying one. But what I do have is even better.
“What’s the verdict then, Gabs?” I say as I walk the few steps from my tiny bedroom to our even tinier living room.
Gabby is sitting on the sofa, MacBook on her knees, surrounded by text books, paper, and empty takeout coffee containers. I feel a tiny pang of guilt to be going out. She’s obviously up against a deadline. And I silently thank my lucky stars that I put in so much work on my thesis before all this started, because since setting eyes on Chase again, I’ve not written a single word. I’m gonna have to work my butt off, if I’m not going to fall behind and disappoint Professor Lane before our next meeting. But I need to get this sorted first. I need answers, once and for all.
“I think you’ve made the right decision with that outfit,” Gabby smiles up at me. “You don’t look obvious, like you’re about to throw yourself at him. You look like you’re gonna make him work for it. You’ve got a great figure, Charity. You’d look great in anything. So you’re lucky. You can dress like that, like you haven’t tried too hard, and still look hot.”
“Thanks, Gabby,” I say. “I’m sorry you’re going to be here alone all night.”
“Oh, don’t be,” she shrugs. “It’s completely my own fault. I don’t have your work ethic. I always leave things to the last minute. I’ve got seven thousand words to write before Monday. Don’t worry about me, though. I always seem to get it done somehow!”
“In that case, I’ll see you when I get home,” I say.
“If you get home,” Gabby adds, a cheeky smile on her face.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I laugh. “It’s just dinner.”
I glance up at the clock.
“Anyway, I’d better make a move. I want to be fashionably late, but if I don’t leave right now, I’m going to just be plain old actually late …”
§
It’s a cool, fresh night as I head towards the Midtown restaurant that Chase has chosen. I’m glad that it’s not too far. I’m too broke for a cab, and I don’t want to break into a sweat. So I take it as slowly as I can.
I’m also glad that he se
ems to have chosen neutral territory. I was worried that he was going to choose somewhere super fancy on the Upper East Side, but instead he’s gone for a small, intimate, reasonably-priced French restaurant.
I’ve googled it; it’s got great reviews, and I can even afford to go Dutch, although something tells me he’s not going to let me do that.
It’s such a weird feeling right now.
I mean, I’m dressed up, walking towards a romantic restaurant, for a date with a guy who turns out to be rich and successful, as well as handsome. But it’s not quite as easy as that, is it?
Not for the first time, I find myself cursing that summer we spent together. If only it had never happened. Maybe then we’d be able to meet in this city as equals. Maybe then we would be able to have that romantic dinner in an intimate French restaurant, and then see where the night takes us.
But of course, it did happen, didn’t it?
And now we’re here to confront that past, to settle old scores.
What if Chase is right? What if there’s nothing left to be said? What if the past is the past and it’s better to leave it there, where it belongs?
And as I take a deep breath, then push the door to the restaurant open, I think:
Well, Charity, tonight’s the night you’re gonna find out.
Aubrey Grant has the longest legs you’ve ever seen, not to mention breasts that defy gravity. And she made it very clear that if I was going to take her out tonight, I’d end up with those legs wrapped tight around me. Furthermore, Aubrey Grant is not the kind of woman that you turn down, not if you ever want to see the full glory of those exquisite breasts.
So why the fuck have I cancelled my dinner with her tonight?
Am I losing my edge?
Because from the moment I came back to my office to find her sitting there, I’ve felt dangerously out of control once more.
I walked away from her a second time, precisely because of this feeling. There’s something about Charity Lindley that makes me feel like I don’t have a grip on reality — there always has been.
Claiming Chase: (A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance) Page 4
