Page 45 of No Headlines Please

Even so, it wasn't lost on me that I still had some paying to do. Yesterday, I'd promised to tell him my story. But last night, I'd stalled during dinner. And even today, I still hadn't started talking.

But the afternoon was so beautiful, and everything felt so perfect as-is that a knot of dread formed in my stomach as I considered what he might think.

The coward in me was already whispering…maybe if we waited 'til the next coffee?

No such luck.

Because the thought had barely crossed my mind when Maddox asked, "So, that story of yours…is this where you tell it?"

19

No Buffer Zone

Maddox

Her story. Whatever it was, I felt like an asshole for bringing it up. But I had my reasons.

Before we could start fresh, I'd have to cross two hurdles. I'd need to explain why I was here and tell her who I was.

I couldn't cross either hurdle until I learned more about her troubles.

But more to the point, the sooner I learned what was going on, the sooner I could figure out what to do. If she needed backup, I was just the guy to give it.

For now, the plan was simple.

She could tell her story, and I'd tell her some of mine – starting with why I was here and ending with the rest of it.

Yeah, I meant the scandal that nobody was willing to forget. I wanted her to hear it directly from me, preferably before she heard the tabloid version from a stranger on the street.

Hell, it was a small miracle she hadn't heard it already.

The whole thing had blown up bigger than a royal divorce. Then again, if you weren't the type to follow business headlines or celebrity gossip, you could've easily missed it – especially if you weren't tuned in to Chicago happenings.

But forget the public.

Somewhere along the line, the thing with Delaney had gotten personal. Sure, I owed Ryder some info, but the truth was, I really did want some answers – and not only because I owed a friend a favor.

Mostly I wanted to help.

Why was Delaney broke? Why had she been acting so twitchy earlier today in the lobby? Why had she moved from her West Haven apartment without leaving a forwarding address?

Why had she been lugging a busted suitcase from who-knows-where? Where was her car?

She did have one. This, I knew, thanks to Cal.

But there was a lot I didn't know.

Still, it wasn't lost on me that I'd probably ruined her coffee by asking inconvenient questions.

Even so, she managed to laugh. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Forget that," I teased. "You're killing me now."

She snorted. "Why? Because you're 'dying' to know?"

"Yup." As I said it, I was stunned to realize it was true. It wasn't only because I was curious. It was because I cared.

She sighed. "Well, I guess I do owe you, huh?" As she spoke, she lifted her latte in a mock toast, as if to remind both of us that I'd paid for the information.