The Kiss Thief

All I knew was that the odds were against us.

“Everything okay?” he asked, brushing my hair away from my face.

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I flipped through pages in a book I didn’t really read. I was pretty sure I was holding it upside down, too, but couldn’t tell, since my eyes could barely register the shape of the book, let alone its contents.

“Sure. I just got my period,” I lied.

“I could still stay,” he suggested, his hand sliding from my cheek, his thumb tilting my chin up to face him. “I’m not coming here just for the sex.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood to give you a blow job, either.”

“Francesca,” he growled, and my eyes darted up to meet his. I hated the fact that I loved him so much. He was right. Love, by definition, was unrequited. One party always loved more.

“Should I be worried?” he demanded.

“What about?” I flipped another page.

“Your ability to read, for one thing. You’re holding it upside down,” he snapped. I closed the book. “You. Us. This.” He motioned between us with his hand.

“No.”

Silence fell between us, but he still wouldn’t leave. I became agitated. It was weird how we started the morning unassumingly, with a strawberry milkshake and a quickie, and how fast we could turn into enemies again.

“Let’s go outside. You can suck on a cancer stick and bring me up to speed about what crawled up your ass.” He stood up and snatched my cigarette pack from my desk.

“No, thank you.” I forgot to throw away the cigarettes when I got back home tonight, but they were definitely not on the menu for me in the foreseeable future.

“Nothing you want to say to me?” He scanned my face again, his jaw tense, his eyes dark and feral.

“No.” I reopened the book, this time in the right direction.

“Do you want me to come with you to the OB-GYN?”

My pulse jumped, hammering against my throat.

“Nice of you to offer months later, but the answer is still no. Can I be left alone, please? I think I outdid my duty as a trophy wife and a warm hole at night this week.”

He narrowed his eyes, taking a step back. My words hurt him—the man who was steel and metal. He turned around and dashed away before we exploded on one another.

I fell to my pillow and cried as soon as the door shut behind him, making up my mind.

Tomorrow, I was going to open the box and retrieve the very last note.

The one that would determine if Wolfe really was the love of my life.

I HELD THE NOTE CLOSE to my chest as I made my way out of the cafeteria, blazing right onto the lush, wet grass at the entrance. The first rain of autumn knocked softly on my face, making me blink as the world shifted in and out of focus.

The first rain of the season. A sign.

Most cities were the most romantic during springtime, but Chicago thrived in the fall. When the leaves were orange and yellow and the sky as gray as my husband’s eyes. The note was wet between my fingers. It was probably ruined, but I still clutched it with a death grip. I stood in the middle of the turf overlooking the road, under the open sky, and let the drops pound over my face and body.

Come rescue me, Wolfe.

I prayed, even despite my bitter knowledge and everything Kristen had told me, that he would fulfill the last note and be my knight in shining armor.

The love of your life will shelter you from the storm.

I inwardly begged, and pleaded, and sobbed.

Please, please, please shelter me.

I wanted a promise that he would not discard me after he was done with my father.

That despite hating my family—and for good reason—he loved me.

This morning, after I read the last note, I tucked it in my bra, just like I did the night of the masquerade. Smithy drove me to school. On our way there, rain started dancing across the windshield.

“Goddammit,” Smithy mumbled, flicking the wipers on.

“Don’t pick me up today.” It was the first and last order I gave Smithy.

“Huh?” He popped his gum, distracted. My EPAs shifted in their seats, exchanging looks.

“Wolfe is going to pick me up.”

“He’ll be in Springfield.”

“Change of plan. He’s staying in town.”

I was only half-lying. If Wolfe was the love of my life, he would be here.

But now I was standing in the rain with no one to turn to.

“Francesca! What the hell!” I heard a voice behind me. I turned around. Angelo was standing on the stairs of the front entrance, shielded by an umbrella, squinting at me. I wanted to shake my head, but I didn’t want to interfere with fate anymore.

Please, Angelo. No. Don’t come here.

“It’s raining!” he yelled.