He doesn’t realize I’m hesitating because I’m Harper Sutton.
The pen glides easily through long sweeping calligraphy. Three letters, that’s all I’ve signed. MAX. Rick takes the clip board back with the urgency of a snail.
“Let me know when the relationship terminates,” our HR rep says in his monotone voice. “Make sure to maintain a professional relationship here at work, and we won’t have to separate your team. Congratulations from Garnet and Associates.”
I didn’t have to lie, not really. That’s my signature, and my name, even if it’s a nickname. I smile at Declan and he can see my relief.
We’re a couple.
I’m in the first real relationship of my life.
∞ ∞ ∞
“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult,” Greg says. He’s at it again as we’re eating lunch on the balcony. For once the sun is out and it’s warm and I’m glad everyone else wanted to take advantage of the first non-gray day in what feels like weeks.
“It’s not difficult if I don’t want to go on TV, Greg,” I say, but Delores is pursing her lips and even Declan won’t look at me.
They don’t get it.
Obviously they don’t get it. How could they? But shouldn’t it be my choice?
I start packing the remnants of my lunch because even puffy clouds in a blue sky aren’t going to keep me out here.
Declan starts to speak, but I push my chair back and toss my salad container in the trash. Ashlee, the receptionist, is on the other side of the balcony’s glass door. Somehow, I know it’s me that she wants and I brace myself for the next round of misery.
“I have two guys from Devil’s Harp Ale who want to meet with you. Do you have a minute? Or should I send Declan?”
My palms go sweaty in an instant. “Did you get their names?” I ask her.
“Jacoby and Marquez,” she replies and waits for my answer.
If she’d said any other name, I would have met them, but Trevor Jacoby and Steven Marquez are my father’s personal security. He more than suspects I’m here.
He’s sent them to bring me back.
“No.” I try my hardest to sound confident like Indigo. “I’m headed into a photoshoot. Send Declan or Greg to see what they want.”
Ashlee hesitates in her movement. “They were pretty insistent, Max. Maybe you should—”
“I don’t have time.” I bark the words out and reverse to push through the doors to the conference rooms. There’s no photoshoot. I have no real alibi, but I have to figure out some way to avoid them. Doors slam behind me as I move from studio to studio. Finally, I see the sign marked “Exit” and I’m gone.
∞ ∞ ∞
I spend the afternoon returning phone calls at a nearby park. The goons won’t stay forever. I know that. I have to wait them out. The idea that I’m Harper Sutton is still ludicrous, so it’s not like they’re going to come right out and say it. But Jacoby is ex-military and loves interrogation, and Marquez is skilled in spotting a lie. It’s why my father has sent them. He has to know for sure that I’m Indigo Maxwell, and I’m not. Once more, I’m considering running as fast and as far as I can.
My cell jangles in my hand and I click it through without much thought.
“This is Max,” I say.
“Really?” a woman’s voice asks. “Is it Max now? Indigo, I swear, first you won’t pick up for your mother, and now you’re changing your name? What am I going to do with you?”
Mother. But not my mother, Indigo’s mother.
“Well?” she asks. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I answer the only way I know how, the only failsafe that’s been trained into my brain.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she asks. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks and that’s all you have to say? And what’s wrong with your voice? You sound strange. Are you sick?”
It’s a trap door and I’ll take it.
“Yes,” I agree, “so sick. Call back another time.”
I end the call before she can say anything else. She’s not even my own mother and she’s triggering guilt and shame. There’s simply no place to hide today. I head back to the office because I can’t afford to lose my job.
∞ ∞ ∞
I’m only sitting at my desk for three minutes before Declan rolls my chair back. “Where’d you take off to?”
“I needed some air.” I try to scoot my chair back under my desk, but his grip is unrelenting.
“You missed the Devil’s Harp team that flew in. I had to deal with it on my own.”
He’s mad at me. Probably because this looks like Indigo’s old behavior.
“What’d they want?”
He exhales through his nose because he’s exasperated with me and not done being mad, but I can tell he’s also confused.
“You, that’s all they wanted to talk about. What we knew about you. Whether you’ve been acting strange lately.”
“They didn’t ask about the account at all?”
If they’re skipping over their alibi for visiting then this is more desperate than I thought.
“I mean,” Declan stares off over my shoulder as if he’s trying to remember the particulars, “we showed them what we’ve gotten done, but they weren’t interested. The wiry one, Jacoby I think, he kept hammering me with questions, worse once Greg blurted out that you and I are together now. I don’t think they allow that sort of thing at their company.”
They don’t, but it’s beside the point.
“If I didn’t know better,” Declan continues, “I’d assume they think you’re that missing girl.”
I can’t look him in the eye and lie, so I look away from him. I should tell him. Blurt it out and then make a break for it. Between Indigo’s jail time and debt, it’s not like I really want her identity anymore.
“Hey,” his knees crack as he drops to meet my eyes, “I’m not mad at you.”
My laugh is one short derisive puff of air through my nose. “Yes, you are.”
That earns me a half grin. “Okay, I’m a little upset that you ditched me with the stiff shirts, but that’s work me. Your boyfriend is worried. You’re taking this missing girl thing a little personally. You stormed off like—”
“I don’t want to do the interview. It’s stupid,” I snap. My defenses rise. Anxiety strangles my throat. He’s watching me, I know it even if I refuse to meet his gaze.
“Okay,” he says because he’s never seen me like this, scared prey in a corner ready to lash out at anything that comes near. “But those guys will come back, I’m sure of it. Maybe you need to face this head on instead of running.”
I want to snap at him again because that’s all I have left. He had a normal childhood. He was allowed to have opinions and allowed to make choices. I never had any of it. I don’t know how to stand up for myself, let alone stand up against authority. If they talk to me, they’ll know. If they know, they’ll take me back home again. If they take me back home again, I’ll have no choice but to marry Reg and carry out some deceitful lie about my abduction. If Declan knew where this road was headed, I doubt he’d be pushing me so hard.
Declan’s head twists as he looks around to see if we’ll go unnoticed. Satisfied, he tucks my hair behind my ear and brings my chin up to face him.
“I don’t want to fight, Max. Let’s drop it. Come out with me tonight. I have the sitter and there’s a movie playing at The Revival.”
His eyes are refuge. They tell me I’m safe, he’ll protect me. I can’t help the thoughts from earlier. I’m falling in love with him. I know nothing about love, but I am.
And best of all, I think he’s feeling the same way.
∞ ∞ ∞
My keys clatter against the counter. My door slams behind me. My phone has rung three times on the way home, all Indigo’s mother. Declan said nothing about dinner, so I pull open the door and stare at the meager contents of my fridge. When finances are tight, dinner becom
es less gourmet and more about calorie content. I eat a container of nearly expired yogurt as I ignore my phone once more. I need to change into something more like a date and less business casual, but I’m beginning to hate everything in my closet.
I catch myself. None of this is mine. Not my door, or my phone, not my yogurt, or the closet full of clothes, and yet it feels like it is. I’m losing my real identity. Maybe not consciously, I know I’m Harper Sutton, hard not to know that with the twenty flyers plastered between my office and apartment, but subconsciously I feel the ownership of everything that is hers.
The reality of it all is that I’m going to have to leave soon, because I’m not strong enough to face them. It’s almost enough to talk me out of seeing Declan, but as long as my days are numbered, I might as well live a little.
∞ ∞ ∞
He tries to pretend that he doesn’t see them, the flyers with my face plastered on them. They aren’t made by my father or his goons, no, these are amateurs looking for their pay day. I know it because each flyer has a different style and a different contact name and number. Most are poorly executed hack jobs, but one in particular must be a professional designer because not only does he have the picture that my parents have released, but he’s also managed to use software to adjust my hair color.
We pass the black-haired version of me, and Declan changes the topic. We pass the strawberry blonde and his grip tightens on my hand. We pass the carrot top version and his jaw clenches. But only a half a block from The Revival, we pass a flyer with my new brunette hair color superimposed on my picture and he actually stumbles. It’s my turn to change the subject, so I ask him about Rory. Maybe he’ll forget that I look like Harper Sutton.
It would be enough if all we faced were the flyers, but it’s the people passing us that get to me. Hushed whispers of “that’s her, it’s gotta be her” and other expository exclamations follow us. The anxiety releases a countdown in my head, time ticking off until I make a run for it. But I glance at Declan as he’s buying our tickets, I smell the musty musk of the old theater, mix it with the warm hints of sourdough floating on the air and hear the street drummers pounding out their songs for spare change. It’s not just him I’m falling in love with, it’s this place, this city, it’s twining my bones and begging me to become one with the culture here. I’m not only home in his arms, I’m home in this place.
∞ ∞ ∞
The night is frigid against my cheeks as we step out after the movie. The shock I feel isn’t because of the dew in the air, or the crisp breeze. It’s because I’m hot, nearly sweating. My cheeks are glowing pink, I’m sure of it. I’ve never made out in a movie theater before. I had no idea it could be so aerobic.
Declan hand wraps around mine. Tension tightens the muscles. Is it because he regrets it? Or is it because the movie ended sooner than he wanted it to? Either way, the silence is louder than I want it to be, and I have to talk before all this awkward pressure breaks us both.
“How’d you like the movie?” I ask as we step out into the dark night. Street lights create halos of golden yellow on the sidewalk and street, perfectly spaced as if I could count them off one by one on the way home. Declan hasn’t answered me, and I worry that something is wrong, something more than the film.
“You didn’t like the movie?” I ask.
His pace slows slightly and we’re in one of those sections of darkness between the halos as he stops me and slips his arms around my waist.
“There was a movie?" he asks. “I don’t remember a movie.”
I laugh because he has the perfect mixture of serious and shock. I can't remember a single part of the plot either, but I remember the flickering light from behind closed eyelids. I remember his hand pulling off my coat because he needed to feel my skin. I can remember the armrest slamming back way too loud when he needed more than my skin against him. But no, I have to admit, I can't remember a movie.
He’s kissing me again, and I never want to step back into that halo of light. I want to stay right here in his arms forever. I don’t care what name he calls me, as long as I’m always his.
Chapter 24
It’s a good thing I love my job because otherwise every morning after a date with Dec would be severe disappointment. Granted, since he’s here as well, it takes the sting out of it.
We’re shooting the final ad for Devil’s Harp Ale. Declan is wearing a crooked smile as he’s watching models go through the motions, but it’s not the same lurid smile that Shutter is wearing that tells me his thoughts are far from clean. No, Declan’s is almost nostalgic.
I imagine he’s remembering the first day we worked together when I used him to show the models what I wanted in the first place. The thought of that day brings every other racy moment we’ve spent together flushing red into my cheeks. I fan my face to try to cool the heat, and Declan sees.
He’s got plans. They’re smoldering in his eyes. From the heat of it, I’m pretty much positive I’m not ready for any of it, and I duck my head. It only goads him further, like chase on the playground, or more appropriately, chase at boot camp where I ached for him to tackle me.
We’ve been through so much together, and in such a short time. Somehow, I have to tell him. I need to explain that I’m Harper Sutton. I hate these lies. But what if he won’t stay with me? Couldn’t I lie the rest of my life in order to stay in his arms? I glance at the female model pulling the male model’s head back so that he’s staring up at her with desperate eyes. She’s sold her soul for one taste of perfection. Can I really do the same?
My cell buzzes and jars me from my thoughts. It’s the bridal shop and I click on the call.
“You got Max,” I say as I walk away from the pounding music and Shutter’s demands.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man says through the line, “I was trying to reach Harper Sutton. I must have dialed the wrong number.”
I glance once over my shoulder, Declan has noticed my distraction and he’s watching me with way too much interest. I shove through the double doors and wait until they’re closed behind me.
“No,” I say, “that’s me. You have the right number.”
“Oh, well you said, well, never mind. I needed to let you know that we have an offer on your dress.” In the silence of the empty hallway, I recognize Braxton McGiveney’s voice, the appraiser from the consignment shop.
“That’s great news.” My heart speeds with excitement. Selling the dress could solve most of my problems. An unexpected influx of cash would mean financial security for me.
“Not great news,” Braxton corrects, “the buyer insists that it’s stolen.”
My blood turns to sand in my veins, weighted and grating as I try to breathe.
“Who’s the buyer?”
His voice drops in volume as if the very air is listening. “Your father, Montgomery Sutton. He’s coming here to get it next week, Miss Sutton. We tried to convince him otherwise, to make him believe that some other girl had consigned her dress, but you know how rare it is and there’s no stopping him.”
“Why are you calling me?” I don’t sound like myself. Actually, I sound exactly like myself. Like the little girl who’s terrified of the consequences. I’d almost forgotten she existed somewhere inside of me.
“I wanted to give you a head start,” Braxton says in his same conspiratorial voice. “I’ve seen you plastered all over the city. You’re on the news. You’re everywhere. Everyone assumes you’ve been abducted, but Joanna and I have met you and clearly you’re on the run from something, and my money is on him. We don’t want to see you taken against your will.”
“Thank you,” I say into the phone.
“So, you’ll run?” Braxton asks.
“It’s not that simple,” I say, even though it is. I either stay and face him, or I run and stay hidden. There’s nothing simpler than that.
“Miss Harper, it is exactly that simple,” he says. He’s still speaking, but I hear the doors behind me and I know on instinct
that it’s Declan.
“Yes, I’ll forward that to you right away,” I say. Braxton is trying to speak but I’m louder and I end the conversation. “Yes, Joanna, I promise. You too. Goodbye,” and I hang up as Declan’s hand finds my shoulder.
His eyes are wide with curiosity, but I don’t have anything to feed him but more lies.
“Joanna from Bridal World. She wanted to know where we were at with the vendor list. I thought I sent it, but it must have slipped my mind.”
It doesn’t even slightly appease him.
“I sent it yesterday. You want me to call her?”
“No,” I hurry toward my desk as if this is priority one, “she wants it from me so I better—”
Declan’s hand catches me by the crook of my elbow and pins me in place. My gaze drops to the floor, but he won’t look away and his stare burns my skin with guilt.
“Something else is going on, Max,” he says and he won’t let go.
“No, it’s—”
“You’re white as a sheet,” Declan says and his volume is rising. “Something terrified you. I can hear it in your voice.”
This is it. This is my chance to tell him who I am. It would fit so easily right here.
My name is Harper Sutton. I’m that missing girl. I bear a passing resemblance to Indigo Maxwell, and she’s in a Mexican prison now, so I might as well be her. My father is coming next week and he’s going to find me and I’ll either stand up to him for the first time, or I’ll wither and fade back into my life of captivity with a man I’ll never care about. Oh, and I fell in love with you.
Why can’t I open my mouth?
His face falls in sympathy. He wraps his arms around me to hold me close. His hot breath filters thought the mess of my hair as he buries his face in my neck. He’s not angry. I assumed he was, because every other person in my life would be.
Angry that I betrayed my feelings.
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