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“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Is he hot?”
“No. Not really.”
“Why? He’s not old enough for you?”
Leanne rolls her eyes. “Shut up. That’s hardly fair.”
“So, you’re still holding a torch for the professor guy?”
“Stop.”
“When you said you’d tell me everything, I thought there was something juicy to tell.”
Leanne sips her wine. “Nope. Sorry. I did tell you everything, which is a heck of a lot of nothing. My professor is still oblivious to me. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe you’re right about it being a bad idea. I don’t want to get kicked out of doing my Masters.”
“That’s probably a smart idea. Not getting involved.”
“What about you? You seem to be involved.”
“I did say we just made out.”
“And I don’t believe you. But whatever. So. Tell me. What’s his name, for starters?”
“Wade.”
“Wade what?”
I think fast to shirtless Wade. It’s the first time it’s really even registered with me that he has a last name, but sure as shit, my mind conjures it up like a magic trick. “Wade Miller.”
“Hmm. Did you look him up?”
“What?” I can’t believe I didn’t even think to creep on Wade online or on social media. A few days ago or even a few weeks ago, it would have been the first thing I did.
“Yeah. Don’t you usually look people up to double-check that they’re not murderers or anything sketchy?”
“I already established he isn’t.”
“So that puts you off your guard? There are worse things than murderers. Assholes. Trash bags. Douches.”
“Sounds like a fun list.”
Leanne whips out her phone, and I sigh inwardly. I want to warn her off of it, but I know no amount of saying anything is going to stop her. I’m just hoping there are a lot of people named Wade Miller out there.
I should have known Leanne, being the research guru she is, wouldn’t fail in her task. She lets out a little squeal and basically throws her phone in my lap. I nearly drop my glass of wine. I shoot her a puzzled look before I pick up her phone. This time, I’m the one letting out a shriek.
“No! This can’t be him!” I can see, plain as I saw that the spider in my house clearly had carnivorous designs where I was concerned, that it is indeed the same Wade.
It’s an online article from some news website. The title immediately catches my eye, and right beside it is a huge picture of him. The bold letters following the picture, a candid clearly taken or snapped without Wade’s consent or borrowed off of his social media profile or something, boldly proclaims Wade as Chicago’s newest billionaire. I scan the article quickly, my shock growing with every line I read. Basically, the story says his grandfather died and left him a huge fortune. After being hounded by the media, Wade just disappeared.
Suddenly, it all makes sense. Wade keeping strange hours and wearing black hoodies even when it’s hot out. I thought he had secrets. It turns out he does. Different kinds of secrets. He’s hiding out in the suburbs not because he likes to kill people or because he’s a criminal but because he wants to escape the media scrutiny.
Which means he’s just waiting for things to blow over.
I thought the house flipping thing made it temporary.
This puts him so far out of reach that he might as well be taking up residence on a moon made of cheese somewhere in some far-off galaxy. He lied to me. Or, at least, he didn’t tell me the truth. We slept together. He spent the night, and he made me a super nice breakfast the next morning. We slept together again after. Twice. Does that mean he had to tell me his whole life story? I guess it doesn’t, but it does mean he obviously doesn’t trust me. Or maybe he was gearing up for it. I don’t know. It’s probably not right to feel hurt, but I can’t help it.
There’s this awful, sick feeling in my stomach like I’ve just eaten a fine meal of razor blades, barbed wires, and broken glasses, and it makes me feel like maybe I’m just a distraction. Something to do while he’s hiding out. Was he going to just up and leave when he figured it was time? Would he just drop me?
I pass Leanne’s phone back to her and stand up. I must look bad because her face takes on this expression of alarm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just not feeling well, I guess. I—would you mind if—can I just be alone for a bit?”
Leanne sets her glass on the coffee table and studies me suspiciously. I’m relieved when she nods. I think she gets it. She gets why I want to be alone after I found out the guy I “made out” with isn’t who he says he is. Clearly. It’s not like Leanne not to press, so I’m glad when she just gives me a tight hug and sees herself out.
