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On tiptoes, I cross the room, grabbing the bag I packed from my hotel, and slip through the door, quietly closing it behind me.
A Mike-shaped shadow slinks toward me. Little minx must be nocturnal. He runs figure-eights between my legs while I scan the floor for my dress. Finding it by the island, I scoop it up and slip it on. My sandals are by the door. Now I just need to find my panties, and I can escape.
Not escape. It’s not like I’m running. I’m just making a careful, silent exit after Chase’s and my well-planned, time-limited fling concluded its natural course. Not waking Chase to say goodbye isn’t cowardice; it’s simple consideration.
For some reason, Mike’s soft meow sounds very sarcastic.
Finally finding my panties draped over Chase’s fancy espresso machine, I shimmy into them and collect my bag of stuff. I didn’t bring much. Either I’m smart and efficient at bringing a weekend’s worth of clothes, or I didn’t want to tempt myself to stay longer.
Either way, in less than a minute, I’m ready to go.
The elevator’s ding rings loudly in the quiet apartment, and I wince, hoping Chase won’t hear it. Hurrying inside once the doors glide open, I hit the button for the lobby and pound the close-door button until they finally move toward each other.
The last thing I see before the elevator doors shut is Mike, sitting on his wrinkled, bare ass, looking at me with disappointment.
21
CHASE
She left.
A week later after our perfect weekend together, and I’m still distracted, staring out the window but seeing nothing. I still can’t get over it. Over her.
She left.
It’s not that I think I’m some sort of Casanova the ladies can’t say no to (okay, yes, I do think that), but Bell and I, we had something. No. We have something.
And yet, for the past week she’s dodged me. First by creeping out of my apartment without so much as a goodbye and now in my own goddamn store.
A week of no return phone calls or texts. Only business emails and polite indifference when we saw each other in the hall. And though I did have lunch with her team a few days ago, Bell was conspicuously absent. Even the former weak link for information, Alice, simply shrugged her shoulders when I asked where her boss was.
The woman is ghosting me.
My cell phone rings, and without thinking, I answer.
“Hello.”
“Finally.” My brother’s superior voice makes my muscles clench.
I close my eyes in defeat. I’ve been avoiding him so well, and then I let Bell distract me.
“Did you hang up on me?”
I’d laugh at his incongruity if I wasn’t so pissed at myself. “No, Thomas. I did not hang up.”
“Wouldn’t have surprised me, with how well you’ve dodged my calls lately.”
“Lately? Seeing how you never tried to call me before I took over Moore’s, you don’t really know how well I dodge calls on the regular.”
“So you have been dodging my calls.”
Damn it. “What do you want, Thomas?”
“I want to talk.”
“Yes, I gathered.”
The phone buzzes with his long, drawn-out sigh. “Knock it off.”
