A rat ran across my foot and I nearly screamed.
“What?” I heard Vivian ask.
“Nothing.” A pause. “You’re right. Let me just drop my laptop off at home. I can’t relax while I’m literally dragging the book with me.”
Their footsteps moved on. And with them, a wild, terrible idea bloomed in my chest.
Maybe…it was time to play dirty.
Past-Nora would’ve called present-Nora completely unhinged. But future-Nora? Future-Nora wouldthankme.
So I followed them.
The universe was on my side. There was a small winter festival at the marina. A pond had been turned into an ice rink. People warmed their hands on steaming mugs. The crowd grew around me, and I vanished between tall shoulders and winter coats.
I kept just enough distance not to be spotted. Not close enough to trigger a restraining order.
Leaving the noise of the bandstand behind, I trailed them down a quieter stretch of the pier. John stopped at a boat—a boat—that looked big enough to host a reality show.
Fancy bastard.
They crossed a small gangway. Vivian waited while John unlocked the door.
With their backs turned, I ducked behind a ficus on a neighbor’s porch.
Not my proudest moment.
The marina wasn’t full of sleek yachts or party catamarans like I’d imagined. These were floatinghomes. Real homes. One boat was classic white with round portholes; its neighbor was rust red with a rooftop deck. Chimneys puffed lazy spirals of smoke into the night. The moon shimmered across the water like something out of a poem.
Romantic. Cozy. Unfairly charming.
I watched John close the door, tuck his hands in his pockets, and follow Vivian back down the pier.
The boat didn’t sway as I stepped aboard.
I tried very hard not to look down into the inky blackness of Lake Michigan—which, let’s be honest, probably housed the majority of Chicago’s rat population.
A narrow ledge wrapped around the side of the houseboat, curving into a patio at the back. The wooden slats were slick with cold moisture, and my heeled boots skidded with every step. I gripped the side of the house, leaning toward the window.
In the pale moonlight, I could just make out a bookshelf near a small wood stove.
I shuffled sideways, carefully craning my neck to see toward the entrance. That had to be where he left the laptop.
Carefully stepping one leg around a plant pot, I tried to find a grip on the other side so I could sneak a peek into the living room. I just had to hope a window was unlocked.
And that there was no alarm system. And that his laptop had no password.
And maybe reassess every life decision I’ve made to end up here.
Because here I was. On John’s back porch. In the dark. Like some kind of weirdo.
I’d lost it.
This would 100% get me kicked out of the competition. Or arrested. Or both.
I was officially a joke. Desperate. Embarrassing.
I sighed and started shimmying backward the way I’d come?—
