small smirk tugged at his mouth. “I remember my username was brownsfan6 . And yours…” A flicker of recognition passed over his face. He looked up at me, eyes bright and wild as if he was seeing me in a new light.
“Veronica,” he said, fingers tightening around his knees.
I nodded. “We met at a party.”
“In lower Manhattan,” he finished.
I could almost see the events of that night flickering behind his eyes. The heat of the room, crawling up the three flights of stairs, meeting me in the hall with that ridiculous mask shielding my eyes.
“You told me your name was Veronica,” he said. “I took off my mask, I told you who I was and you lied to me.” That familiar anger built inside of him.
“But you figured it out.”
“What happened after the party? Which I barely remember.”
“We had plans for Saturday night.”
“Fill that in.” My fingers gripped the pen as I scribbled in the correct box. “What else?”
“But I didn’t show up.”
“What happened after that?”
“You came to my apartment and told me I was coming with you to your parents’ house. You were drunk and angry, I assumed it was because I was ignoring your messages and your calls.”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember that,” he said, one hand gripping the side of his head. “I don’t remember that at all.”
“You gave my sister some money,” I said looking at him, mildly concerned. “To watch the kids while we were away.”
“Fuck.” He shot to his feet. “I don’t remember that. I need to – When did we get together? Here?”
“Sort of.”
“Alice,” he said, tugging at his hair. “You need to be direct with me.”
“We didn’t…We never really…”
“Spit it out,” he hissed.
“You kissed me in the guest room and you told me to make up my mind but --”
His shoulders hunched over as he stormed towards the door and back again, pacing violently before he stopped in his tracks.
“We weren’t together when I went to The Dirty Kitty, were we?”
“No.”
He bustled over to his desk and looked down at the timeline, tracing from the moment he hit his head at The Dirty Kitty to our interview with Cheryl.
If there was one thing I knew about Chace is that he wasn’t an idiot. It took seconds for him to unearth the truth on his own.
His hands curled around the edge of his desk, white knuckled, fingers pressing into the wood.
“Do you remember now?” I said.
His shoulders were trembling. He refused to look at me.
“You can leave,” he said.
I stood there for a minute, waiting for him to turn around and spit out an insult between his teeth. Something to remind me of the old Chace; his clenched teeth, his tight shoulders, but his gaze remained on his desk.
He wasn’t going to turn around until I left the room.
So, I did.
Nine
The knock on my bedroom door hoisted me to my feet.
“Come in,” I said, straightening my blouse.
I’d changed out of Evie’s clothes and folded them neatly on the bed, slipping on an outfit that was entirely me, something the stylist had scoffed at before.
I was hoping it was Chace but Jonah opened the door with a frown. “You might want to have a seat,” he said.
I gingerly sat on the edge of my bed.
Jonah walked to the other side of the room where the large armoire stood closed and untouched. His shoulder knocked against it. “I got Jennifer to agree to keep her mouth shut on one condition.”
“What is it?”
“You have to leave tonight for New York.”
The clock on my nightstand flashed red. It was midnight.
“I can’t,” I said. “Doesn’t she know I have a job?”
Jonah released a slow, single nod. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the armoire, glancing down at my suitcase, half-packed since the moment I arrived.
“You don’t have a job anymore.”
A cold sliver of fear ran up my back, cool fingers wrapping around the strands before pulling at the roots. “I’m sorry?”
“Chace told me you spoke with
Steve Turner
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Roy Macgregor
Michael Wallace