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I shower as fast as I can, and dress even faster—snagging one of Chase’s oversized shirts and some boxer shorts. If I don’t clean up the mess in the kitchen soon, he’ll be mad.
But when I pad into the kitchen, it’s spotless. Eloise is asleep on the chair, and Chase sits across from her, scrolling through his phone whilst he eats toast.
My heart starts racing. ‘I’m sorry.’ Why is my throat so tight? ‘I tried to be as quick as I could—‘
Chase stares at me, his mug half-raised to his mouth—and he sets it down, turning in his chair to face me. ‘Come here,’ he says softly.
I go over to him, and he grabs my hands. I try to think past the way his thumbs caress my skin, the way his Adam’s apple bobs, the way his forehead does that sexy wrinkly thing as he looks up at me.
‘Talk to me,’ he says, his voice gentle.
‘I can’t.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘No.’
He says nothing. He just holds me until I stop trembling, watching me closely. ‘I’m not him, Frankie,’ he tells me. ‘You won’t have to worry about me laying a finger on you. You don’t owe me anything.’ He brushes away a tear.
I swallow. ‘Thanks. But I think I should go home—‘
‘Absolutely not.’
‘I can’t stay here forever.’And I want you more with every second I spend with you.
‘If that’s as long as it takes.’
I stare at him. He’s deadly serious.
‘Just stay here for a week,’ he goes on. ‘And if you feel like you’re ready to go back after then, okay. I don’t want to take any more choices away from you. But you’re not going back there yet—not to him.’
I bite my lip to keep from crying again. I’m always crying—and for what? What does being upset accomplish?
I don’t want to go back to that place, but I feel like I’m intruding here.
A week, then.
I lift my chin, determination set in every stiff line of my jaw. ‘I need to go home and get some things.’
He’s nodding before I finish. ‘Okay. We can do that when Miley gets back.’
Wecan do that.
We.
As long as I have Chase, I’m not alone. And that’s enough.
???
We eat the cupcakes while we wait for Miley, saving a bunch for when Eloise wakes up. It’s still only early afternoon when Miley returns covered in even more paint, but her eyes are brighter now, her skin glowing.
Archer won’t be back from work yet, so I’ll have enough time to slip in, grab my things, and leave without him noticing.
But my stomach still knots as we drive to Whitechapel. What if he hasn’t gone to work? He seemed pretty drunk last night. He’s never called in sick due to a hangover before, but this isn’t just any average hangover: I’ve abandoned him. What if that sent him over the top?
I stifle my sigh of relief when I don’t see his car in the car park.
Chase says nothing as I refuse the lift, but he quirks a brow when my hand suddenly shoots out to grasp his arm as we pass Jodie’s apartment.
