One to Chase (One to Hold 7)

Ice-blue eyes blink to me, and she’s controlled excitement. “What did you do back there?

I’m not sure what she means, so I stall. “I ran into Karen, but we only exchanged greetings.”

“I was right, then.” She whispers, sipping her drink. “It’s working.”

Paige suggested we come to Studio O tonight because she had reason to believe Karen would be here. The two of us appearing together in front of her and her minions seems like the quickest way to accomplish our goals and return to normal.

“So we’re done?” I quickly scroll through all the possibilities—texting Amy versus calling versus going straight to her house...

“Not yet.” Paige places a hand on my forearm and leans into my ear. “We’ll see how it goes at the gala.”

Her lips brush the skin at my ear and then she leans back and gives me a naughty smile. It’s all part of the act, just like earlier when she leaned to me and whispered, “I’m going to laugh like you said something funny.”

Clearly, we’re very good actors. The betrayal on Amy’s face still hits me like a sledgehammer. I feel like a fucking ass, and all I want to do is find her and hold her, explain all of this to her. But I can’t. I gave my word.

Smiling, I lift Paige’s slim hand and place it in mine. My voice is so low, only the two of us can hear it. “This charade is seriously killing my chances with someone.”

She blinks those gorgeous blues up at me and leans her head on her hand. Her smile is pure bedroom. “Think of it as making the world a better place.”

* * *

Amy

I never call the car. I’m on the street, walking east along Illinois in the direction of Sylvia’s Lakefront condo. Wind sweeps down through the high rises, pushing my hair off my shoulders. It’s always so windy in Chicago. I pause and close my eyes, breathing it in. Cleansing breaths.

My brain buzzes from all the gin-laced champagne followed by vodka shots, and I’m in a haze of confusion over what just happened. Why am I reacting this way? I need to think it out, isolate these feelings, name them, and put them the fuck away.

It’s simple logic. Marcus Merritt distracted me enough that I stumbled into thinking I need him somehow. Ridiculous. Now clearly he’s moved on, and I’m stuck in the most stereotypical female response on the planet—jealousy, hurt, offense. Good God, Amy! How have I let this happen?

Shaking myself, I fight it. Emotions are chemicals and social pressure. Marketing gimmicks that make you believe in things like overwhelming love, love you can’t live without, heroes and soul mates, and the fantasy of one perfect person for each human. Take it from a master marketer: It’s all an Enormous LIE.

I learned first-hand, at my father’s knee no less, love is never a two-way street. It’s always one person giving and another taking—taking everything the other person is willing to give, always demanding more. Demanding everything. Until the taker has had enough or becomes bored or finds something new, and the giver is left broken and empty with nothing.

A man sits on the street holding a sign about being hungry. Lifting my clutch, I dig through the slim bag and out drops what looks like a fifty. I don’t even care. I’m lost in my haze of buzzed rationalization. He makes a noise, and I stumble onward. Only now, my phone is in my hand. I stop and stare at it several long moments. His name is on the screen and my thumb hovers over the green button. Did I push it?

Eyes closed, the slim device is at my ear. It only rings once before the warm vibration of his voice fills my brain, flooding my core with humming emotion.

“Amy?”

“So it’s like that?” My voice breaks. I can barely breathe, but I take a sniff and push on. “You quit on a dime. No looking back?”

/> The sound of his exhale meets my ear before he speaks. “What am I supposed to do? Do you even remember what you said to me? How you acted?”

“I said I needed time.” Good god, I’m crying. “I asked you to give me time.”

Did I say the same thing twice? I’m so pathetic. A truck races by driving way too fast for the downtown area, the roaring engine filling my phone.

“Wait. Where are you?” Concern tightens his voice.

“I have no idea where I am.” I continue walking east, and somewhere in my peripheral, I sense someone following me. “I’m on Illinois. I think Wabash is the next block.”

“You’re walking on the street? Alone?!” Marcus’s voice sounds like he’s moving fast. A brush over the receiver, and I hear a voice muffled in the background. More fast movements, and he’s back. “Do you see a restaurant or somewhere you can step inside?”

“I passed Mink’s just a second ago.” Looking back over my shoulder, I catch the eye of a man lurking in the shadows, following me. I think it’s the beggar. My shoulders tense. “Maybe I should go back?”

A thump sounds through the phone. “I’m in my car headed your direction. Just keep moving. Try to stay near people.” He makes a little growl. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“I can’t believe you did this!”