Page 81 of Unlock My Heart

“Dunno. When my boss tells me to jump, I ask how high. Actually, I don’t, because I can’t jump for shit. My professional basketball dreams crashed and burned in the fifth-grade championship. Three seconds on the clock, I shoot.” He imitates with an invisible ball. “And I’m stuffed, the ball hitting me square in the jaw.” His head falls back in defeat.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” I tell him, trying to match his lighthearted vibe, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“Nah, don’t feel bad for me. I was mainly in it to sneak peeks up the cheerleaders’ skirts.”

I snort a laugh. “In that case, sympathy retracted. I’ve got work to do. Make yourself at home.” I lug my backpack to the spare bedroom I’m using as my workspace.

Getting all my sketches lined up on the floor, I start to feel a little overwhelmed. Making the samples for tryouts was one thing, but designing and constructing an entire collection?

Right about now, I could really use some hype from my biggest supporter. Grabbing my phone, I send Fabien another text.

I made the cut. I’m in the spring fashion show.

I don’t expect a response, but bubbles appear.

Baby, I’m so proud of you!!!

Tears well in my eyes. No one’s ever said that to me, except for him.

Thank you. Why can’t you talk right now? Where are you?

Handling some business. Be home as soon as I can. Love you.

My thumbs hover; I want to share the other news I received earlier, but I decide it’s a conversation best had in person.

Love you.

The exchange should make me feel better, so why can’t I shake this uneasy feeling?

With a frustrated sigh, I get to work creating the structure for my lace corset dress, ignoring the haunting sketch from earlier.

A knock on the door startles me, and I glance at my phone, realizing several hours have passed. “Come in.”

Nic steps into the room. “Um, it looks like a bomb went off in here.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” My gaze follows his to what I’d like to describe as controlled chaos, but it’s mainly just chaos. “I feel bad that you have to babysit past dinnertime. Why don’t we order something? Whatever you want, I’ll let you pick.”

“Wings and a six pack it is.” He rubs his hands together.

“How did I know you were going to eat more ‘college’ than me?” I tease him.

Nic gasps. “Don’t make me feel self-conscious about my freshman fifteen.”

That elicits an eye roll; the man’s nearly in as good shape as Fabien. “You’ve never met a weight rack you didn’t love, and I’d bet you’ve never felt self-conscious a day in your life.”

“How do you have me pegged?” Nic holds his heart dramatically. “I’ll be back in a few.”

He leaves, and I begin the task of straightening up my workspace.

My phone buzzes, and excitement that it’s Fabien morphs to confusion at the unknown sender.

You might want to get to the hotel lounge and see what your “boyfriend” is up to.

Who is this?

Make that who he’s up to.

Who the fuck is this?