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“Who does Mrs. Crawford think she is?” Althea asked, her lips curled in disgust. “I have half a mind to go back in there and knock her out. High-and-Mighty-Gucci-wearing bitch.”
“Mom!” Geneviève glanced around the corridor. “Don’t say things like that. You never know who might be listening.”
“I. Don’t. Care. Estelle Crawford is a snob with an ugly personality, and I hate her...”
Demi stood silently, listening to her mother vent, hoping Althea wouldn’t make good on her threat. She’d sent her girlfriends a group text, asking them to join her outside, and once they did, she was going home. After her run-in with Juliet and Mrs. Crawford, she’d lost all interest in having a celebratory dinner with Chase, and now had even more doubts about their future.
“Mom, you don’t mean that.” Geneviève gripped Althea’s shoulders, forcing her to look at her. “Demi’s crazy about Chase and if you trade insults with Estelle, every time you see her, you’re going to put Demi in a terrible position.”
Demi swallowed hard. She agreed with her sister, but she remained silent. She didn’t want her mom to think she was taking sides or condoning what Estelle had said. After months at odds, they were finally in a good place, and Demi didn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. “Can we go? I’m exhausted. The girls can take a cab back to my place whenever they’re ready—”
“Estelle Crawford will never accept you,” Althea said in a firm voice. “And it would be foolish of you to date a man whose mother thinks you’re beneath him.”
Geneviève shook her head. “Mom, that’s not true. Chase adores Demi—”
“I’m sure he does, but he’ll never choose Demi over his family. Men like him never do.”
A burning sensation coursed through Demi’s chest. Dropping her gaze to her feet, she closed her eyes and waited for the moment to pass. She heard conversation and laughter and classical music, but the soft, soothing sounds didn’t alleviate her stress.
Demi felt like crying; not because her Mom had called her foolish, but because she knew in her heart that everything Althea had said about the Crawford family was true. Demi had been in this predicament before, had been betrayed and humiliated by someone she’d loved deeply. She knew what she had to do the next time she saw Chase. This time, she’d put herself first, would protect her heart, no matter the cost, and even though Demi knew it was the right thing to do, tears spilled down her cheeks and splashed onto her dress.
Chapter 19
Chase sprinted on the treadmill in his home gym on Saturday evening, trying not to think the worst, even though his mind was filled with dark thoughts. He stared at the cup holder, willing his cell phone to ring. Where is she? Why hasn’t Demi returned my calls or texts? he wondered, slapping the stop button on the treadmill with the palm of his hand.
Ending his workout, he wiped his forehead with a Yankees-themed face towel then tossed it on the weight bench. There had to be a logical explanation for why Demi wasn’t answering her cell phone. He’d called her that afternoon and they’d talked and laughed like they always did. He’d wished her luck at the Hamptons Women’s Annual Tea, promised to treat her to a celebratory dinner at her favorite restaurant lounge that evening, and reminded her to pack an overnight bag for the weekend. Six hours later, Demi was nowhere to be found. Her silence was unsettling and very out of character for her. Demi loved her iPhone, was always tweeting and posting and searching for things online. She usually answered his texts within seconds. But not tonight.
A troubling thought came to mind. Was Demi purposely avoiding him? Had he unknowingly done something to upset her? The longer he considered it, the stronger his suspicions were. Demi had been nervous about meeting his mom, but he’d assured her Estelle was harmless and encouraged her to introduce herself to his family members at the tea.
Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was forming in his temple, but he didn’t feel like doing deep-breathing exercises. Thanks to Demi and her natural remedies, his symptoms had decreased and these days he rarely took his pain medication. His business trip had been a huge success, but he’d missed Demi terribly and was eager to see her.
A memory burned bright in his mind. Two days before he’d left for London, while he was driving Estelle home from her group therapy session, she’d asked him point-blank who Demi Harris was and he’d told her the truth. That he’d met the YouTube sensation in Ibiza and had fallen hard for her. To his surprise and relief, his mom had said she was happy for him and had kissed his cheek. At the time he’d been shocked by her reaction, but now wondered if she’d pulled the wool over his eyes. Had Estelle confronted Demi? Was Demi mad at him for not warning her about his mom? There’s only one way to find out.
Chase marched out of the gym, through the main floor and into the darkened foyer. He swiped his keys off the raised table, activated the alarm and then yanked open the door. The cold wind sliced through his ribbed, black shirt, chilling him to the bone. He considered returning inside to grab a hoodie, but there was no time. The sooner he found Demi, the better, and as he locked the front door, he made a mental note to call Geneviève from his Maserati. If anyone would know where Demi was, it was her sister.
The floodlights came on, brightening the porch. Chase stopped midstride and peered out into the darkness. He noticed a figure on the wrought-iron bench with its head down and moved closer. It was Demi. He’d recognize her sweet, floral perfume anywhere. Relief flowed through his body. All was right with the world again.
Or is it? questioned his inner voice. If things are good, why is she sitting in the dark?
Confused, he stared at her for a moment. She looked stunning in her short, fitted dress, but her slumped shoulders and woeful disposition pierced his heart. He sat beside her and took her hand. It was cold and clammy, but he tightened his hold. “Demi, baby, what’s wrong? Why are you sitting out here in the dark instead of inside with me?”
He tenderly stroked her skin, but she didn’t respond or acknowledge his presence.
Chase tried again. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”
More silence. Her shoulders dipped lower, seemed to cave in, and her lips trembled.
“I’ll turn on the fireplace and you can tell me all about the Women’s Tea while I make that hot Kahlúa drink you love so much. How does that sound—?”
“Last year, I fell hard for a successful budget analyst,” she said quietly, gazing out at the sky. “Everything was going great until I met his friends and family at a charity ball...”
Her words were a fist to the gut. Chase knew she’d had a life before him, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of Demi being with anyone else and hated hearing details about her ex. It took supreme effort, but he wiped the scowl from his face and listened to her story.
“His mother insulted my gown, his friends Googled me and made fun of my lifestyle blog, and his sister said their family wouldn’t accept me until I got a ‘real job,’ but you know what the most painful thing was? He never stood up for me. Not once.”
His cell phone rang inside his pocket, but he decided to let the call go to voice mail.
Chase studied her profile. She had sad eyes, damp cheeks and hunched shoulders. This wasn’t Demi. Upbeat and optimistic, she was full of energy and humor, and always made him laugh. He wanted to return the favor, to do something to pull her out of her funk, and tried to remember one of the jokes she’d told him days earlier during their late-night video chat.
