Reluctantly in Love

by Niecey Roy

  “Meredith?” Beverly asked. She reached out and took Meredith’s hand. “I didn’t know.”

  Meredith shrugged. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “We thought you went bat-shit crazy over Peter Wood,” Linda said.

  “Linda,” Beverly admonished.

  “What?” Linda said with a shrug. “We did.”

  “Peter Wood is an egotistical ass,” Meredith said, tilting her chin up just-so.

  “Why don’t we go inside and grab a cup of tea?” Beverly said. “Catch up?”

  “This has been a doozy of a night. I could use some tea.” Linda propped her hands on her hips and glared down at Matthew. “I hope you have a long night in the slammer, young man.”

  I pressed my lips together to hold back a smile. Matthew was hardly a spring chicken at fifty-seven years old.

  Beverly wrapped me in a hug. “Would you like to join us for tea, Roxanna?”

  I shook my head. “No, I have a report to write yet tonight. But thank you.

  “Thank you so much, dear.” She glanced down at Matthew, whose head rested against his knees. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

  Richard’s stomach began rumbling so loud, I felt awful. I sent Richard with one of Leo’s men so he could go home and eat. I stayed with Leo and two other guys until the police loaded Matthew into the back of their squad car. He’d make bail, probably. Lawyer up and try to fight this. We handed everything over to the police, and Beverly gave them permission to search the Garrett Estate for all evidence linking Matthew to the theft of Pretzels, to orchestrating this whole ordeal, and conning Beverly out of fifteen thousand dollars. He was hauled away, claiming his innocence despite the alien costume he wore. A guy like him wouldn’t admit his guilt. A guy like him would find a way to secure the best lawyers in town to get him acquitted.

  Maybe he wouldn’t go to prison for his crimes, but I wouldn’t mind seeing him in an orange jumpsuit doing community service for a few years. I’d keep my fingers crossed.

  When I finally walked through my front door, I was elated at tonight’s success, but bone tired. The quiet house that greeted me was empty and cold. I wanted to celebrate yet there was no one to celebrate with. I wanted to fall into a warm embrace, but I was alone.

  I shuffled to my office and sat down at my desk, staring at the laptop in front of me. I hadn’t written much of anything for three weeks—not since Chase left. My feelings for him weren’t because he inspired me. Our connection had been deeper, that was clear now. He’d given me something I hadn’t realized I lacked—happiness.

  And the man had loved me despite my being an emotionally closed off pain in the ass.

  I’d solved the biggest case of my life, and the only person I wanted to celebrate with was gone. Because of me. It’s what I told myself I needed—space, independence—but all I’d done was put up more bars around my heart, fearing what might happen rather than opening myself to the love he’d given me.

  “I love him,” I whispered in the dark, to the empty silence.

  I loved him so much it hurt.

  For too long, I’d left my heart closed off from any man who showed interest in me. I shut them out, tortured myself with all the what ifs. I even convinced myself I was only using Chase so I could write better—and I convinced him that was true. To him, I was probably the heartless bitch who’d used him and played with his heart.

  It wasn’t true, though. It was a lie I’d told myself because I hadn’t been ready for the truth—I’d fallen madly, deeply, impossibly—reluctantly—in love with Chase.

  Chase was in Africa with his dad. Before I’d ruined things between us, he’d told me about the vaccination mission they’d volunteered for. He’d been gone a week now, and I would have to wait three more weeks before I could see him again. If he’ll even see me.

  Three weeks to plan Operation Win Chase Back.

  Chapter Thirty

  Life is tricky, you know? One minute you’re perfectly fine being single, the kind of woman who goes Dutch on a date and never sleeps over. And then you meet a guy who has piercing blue eyes and this smile that makes your knees a weak mess. But it isn’t even the abs, or his intelligence; it’s his heart that gets you. It sneaks up right under the skin and bites you. Hard. Leaving behind nothing but a bunch of doubts and what-might-have-beens.

  The next three weeks flew by. I didn’t sleep much. I threw myself into writing, living on frozen dinners and carry-out, energy drinks and coffee. I was working on something new, and each page was a surprise. I’d never considered myself capable of writing a romance, but that’s what my story was now. Most of it tore my insides to shreds; I kept a box of tissues at my side. After I typed the last word, I sat back and let out a whoop of elation.

  Chase’s image flashed through my mind. He was the one I wanted to celebrate with. He’d been back for a week now; Gen had told me so. I’d been putting off seeing him because I was no good at this kind of thing—begging forgiveness, asking for a second chance. This was new to me. I’d never cared so much before. There was a part of me—a big part of me, actually—that was afraid he’d turn away. That he’d tell me he didn’t care any longer. That part of me was the coward who’d chosen to hide out in my office for the last week, writing instead of rectifying the way I’d thrown our relationship away.

  I dialed Gen on my cell phone and paced while I waited for her to answer. When she finally did, I said, “I’m going after him.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Chase. I’m going after him.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “I’m not sure how I’m going to do it, but it’s going to be soon.” The need to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, tore at me. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Gen was silent a few seconds too long.

  “Gen?”

  “I heard him talking to Matt earlier. It sounded like he has a date tonight.”

  I froze, the warmth draining from my face. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, that’s what it sounded like.”

  “I’m too late,” I muttered, mostly to myself. I shouldn’t have waited. You’re so stupid!

  “Maybe you can catch him at home before he goes out. Tell him how you feel.”

  “I’ll call you later, Gen,” I said, and hung up. She was right. I needed to go after him. Now. Before everything changed. Before he falls for someone else.

  Regret was a shitty emotion. I didn’t do well with regret. And, apparently, regret made me irrational. I found myself in my car, still wearing my fuzzy pajamas, my hair thrown up in a messy bun on the top of my head, racing across town to declare my love. While I drove, I realized I should have cleaned myself up, at least done my eye makeup, maybe changed into jeans. But all of a sudden there was no time.

  Almost two months later, and I still missed him as deeply as I had the day I drove him away. Two months, and it might be too late. I’d never felt this kind of anxiety before. The shoe-dropper. The deep, pit of the stomach kind of panic.

  This was no time to worry about the fashion police. Did it matter that my pajamas said Booty Rocker across my butt? Hell no. This was serious shit. This was Operation Win Chase Back.

  My speech sounded disjointed in my head; I hoped it would sound better out loud in the heat of the moment. I decided to keep it simple: I love you. I’m sorry. I’m an ass-hat. I’m sorry. I love you.

  Chase’s house was dark, and his car wasn’t in the driveway, but I went to the door anyway. Hopeful I hadn’t missed him. He has to be here. I knocked and knocked, but no one answered.

  I sat in my SUV, popping strawberry-flavored breath mints like candy. What the hell do I do now?

  I’d had three weeks to come up with an amazing plan to win Chase back, but I’d twiddled my thumbs. Like a coward. Something told me I had to find him right now. That I might never get another chance to fix things with him.

  He’s on a date. The idea of it made my insides turn.

  I dialed Gen again.
When she answered, I said, “Can you find out where he went on a date?”

  “Huh?”

  “I want to know where he took his date.” I could hear the note of panic in my voice.

  “Hold on.” She whispered something, probably to Matt. Then to me, she said, “Matt said he’s not sure.”

  “Do you think he can find out?” I sounded like I was five seconds from tossing up my supper.

  “Wait, are you planning on crashing his date?”

  Why the hell did she sound so pleased? I was having a panic attack!

  “Yes. I’m going to profess my undying love.” Okay, that had sounded better in my head.

  “Oh my God, are you serious?”

  I cranked the heater. I’d rushed out without grabbing a coat.

  “Gen, I love you, but you are not helping my nerves right now. Can you just tell me how to find Chase? Without telling him why? I mean, I’d like to do that myself.”

  More whispering. “Matt says he went to a Christmas party for work.”

  “He took his date to his Christmas party?”

  “I don’t know. That’s just what he said.”

  I started my car and whipped away from the curb. “Where?”

  “You can’t crash the party,” Gen said, sounding worried.

  “I’m not going to crash the party. I’ll just park outside and wait for him to come out.”

  “Like a stalker?”

  “Exactly.”

  She laughed. “It’s nice to see the old you back.”

  “What? I’ve never stalked anyone before.” Well, not for personal reasons. On the job, yes. But that was for a paycheck. This is for love.

  “No, I mean, you sound like yourself—whacky.”

  “Wow, thanks.” I had no idea where I was going, but turned toward downtown. “Ask Matt where the party is.”

  She gave me an address and I hung up.

  I rounded the block twice in search of a parking spot. The promised snow now fell in large, fluffy flakes. I slowed at the sight of red taillights that flashed on in front of the restaurant. When a Beemer backed out and drove off, I swooped in to take its place in a slot off to the side of the party room. The big window was decorated in garland and red velvet ribbons. Inside, the room was full of people mingling and laughing. A big tree had been set up near the window and decorated with twinkling lights. I leaned over the console to unzip my work bag and pulled out my camera. Going for the camera was habit—the binoculars would have worked just as well in this situation.

  Looking through the scope, I searched for Chase, but didn’t find him. Maybe he’d already left with his date and I just missed him. Shit, shit, shit.

  After what could have only been ten minutes but felt more like thirty, my impatience and frustration got the best of me. I yanked the keys out of the ignition and draped the camera around my neck. A fat snowflake landed on the tip of my nose. I didn’t stop to brush it off. By the time I made it to the door of the restaurant, my black hair was covered in a blanket of white.

  The maître d’ raised her brows and did a quick sweep of my ensemble.

  I raised the camera. “I’m here to take pictures of the party.”

  She didn’t look as if she believed me. What kind of professional photographer came to a photo shoot in her pajamas? I breezed past her before she could say anything. The party room was separated from the main dining area by a hallway that also led to the bathrooms on one end and another smaller event room at the other end. I stood to the side of the party room, sucking in deep breaths in an effort to gain some clarity on how to infiltrate Chase’s party without making a spectacle of myself.

  Really, Roxanna? Are you really doing this?

  Damn straight. I had to do this. This is what big girls did when they fell in love and screwed it all to hell.

  I leaned to peek around the doorway and took a quick sweep of the room.

  My vantage point wasn’t the best. Most everyone was gathered around the tree across the room, but some mingled at the bar set up by the large brick fireplace. In the corner nearest me, a cake table was set up at a diagonal. Beside a display of stacked presents wrapped in red, green, and gold paper was a tiered cake topped with a spun sugar Santa Claus. Next to the cake, white cake plates and silverware were laid out.

  I lifted the hood on my sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. Before I could change my mind, I slinked into the room. With the music and laughter and the man handing out gifts at the other end of the room, I doubted anyone would notice me. Just in case, I held the camera up and snapped pictures without the flash on. If anyone asked, I was here taking pictures, not looking for my ex.

  I scooted sideways against the wall and slid behind the cake table, then peeked around the presents display to scope out the room again.

  Chase was nowhere in sight. I was equally relieved and disappointed. Coming here had been a bad idea. I hadn’t thought things through.

  “Damn it,” I mumbled.

  My view was obstructed by big hair and glaring eyes behind horn rimmed glasses. I lowered the camera and came face to face with Sarah, the clinic’s receptionist. It’d been months since I last saw her, when my head had been adorned with a bloodied plaid shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Sarah’s narrowed gaze searched mine.

  I held up the camera. “Just taking pictures.”

  She made a sweeping gaze from my hooded sweatshirt to my sweatpants. “We didn’t hire a camera person.”

  I flashed her a radiant smile. “Well, someone did.”

  She cocked her head as her eyes registered recognition. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  “Excuse me.” I pressed the camera to my face and snapped her picture. “I better get going. I think I have everything I need for the . . . Better Business Bureau holiday spread.”

  “The what?” she asked, but I ignored her.

  I swung around to make my great escape, the camera flying out from the strap around my neck. The lens caught the edge of a shiny gold present, knocking it loose from the pile. It landed on the cake, a corner wedged into the second tier. A red present fell in the opposite direction and landed on the floor next to the table.

  “Oh, shit,” I mumbled, louder than I meant to. A few people nearby turned to see what the commotion was about. I grasped the strings to my hoodie and pulled. The hood cinched closed, concealing most of my face. I side-stepped around the table the way I’d come in. “Uh, sorry about that. I’ll send in a waitress to help clean up the mess.”

  I fled the scene of the crime. If I could just get out the door. . .

  “Roxanna?”

  I froze in the doorway at the sound of my name on Chase’s lips. But then I had a horrific thought—what if he thinks I’m stalking him? Which, of course, I was. I didn’t stop, and rushed through the hallway, past the maître d’, and out the front door. The wet snow had become a slick sheet of ice on the sidewalk, and my feet flew out from beneath me. I landed hard on my butt, the palms of my hands barely cushioning my fall.

  “Ooowww,” I moaned.

  A set of hands grabbed me by the arms and hauled me to my feet. My hands went straight to my butt, rubbing the sore muscles.

  “Thanks.” I had to tilt my head up since the hood covered my eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” Chase took the hood by the opening and pulled it loose to uncover my face. He smoothed the hood off of my head.

  The instant the blue eyes I’d missed so much these last two months connected with mine, I sucked in a breath. I almost threw myself at him, but the firm set of his jaw kept my feet grounded in place.

  “I, uh, thought maybe you’d like some pictures of your party?” I held up the camera hanging around my neck.

  His gaze didn’t break from mine—and he wasn’t smiling. “That was very generous of you.”

  “You know me, always happy to do . . . free stuff.” My smile felt more like a Jack-o-Lantern’s grimace.

  “Right.” He shoved his hands in
to his pockets and said nothing.

  My toes were on the frozen side, and my fingers were quickly going numb. I shoved my hands into the front pocket on my sweatshirt and rocked back onto my heels, hoping to get the blood moving. Our silence was heavy, and awkward. He didn’t plan to make this easy on me.

  “If that’s all, then, have a nice night, Roxanna.” He didn’t go back inside. He turned in the direction of the parking garage at the end of the block.

  He walked away without a backward glance. Each step he took felt so final that my heart pounded in my chest. I guess I hadn’t expected him to be quite so short.

  I slid behind the wheel of my vehicle and sat staring at the snow landing on the windshield. Things could have gone better. I definitely could have plotted this out more. Maybe made some notecards with possible scenarios. At least then I’d know what to do with myself after getting dissed in the freezing cold by the man I loved.

  My vehicle stuttered to a start, which was fitting. With the way things were going tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if the heater quit, or if my vehicle stalled on the drive home. That would be an awesome end to this disastrous night.

  As I backed out of the parking slot, I thought of all the things I’d done wrong in our relationship. I hadn’t fought for us, or for him. I’d given up so quickly, no wonder he found it so easy to walk away.

  And you just let him go. Again. Man, I was really horrible at this relationship stuff. I should have bought a guide or something: How to Win Back Your Ex-Boyfriend for Dummies.

  I didn’t have a destination in mind as I drove at a crawl toward the end of the block. Cars were piling up behind me, but I didn’t care. I was driving safe, damn it, and they could all bite me.

  Where did a person go after having the metaphorical door slammed in one’s face?

  It’d barely been two months since we last saw each other. Had he really been able to get over me that fast? Did he really not care for me at all, not even a smidgeon, now? Hell no. I wasn’t having it. I might have pretty much forced him out of my life, but clearly I cared. I just crashed his Christmas party, damn it!