Even in my baggy clothes, I didn’t want to risk being recognized, so we ended up walking along the lake on Lake Shore Drive until the sun set in front of us, and the moon’s silver light was shining over the water.

Good thing I hadn’t gone home because Chloe had texted to let me know that our street was flooded with paps just waiting for my arrival.

Great. Just Great.

We plopped down on the concrete, our chosen spot overlooking the city. The building lights shone brightly in front of us, and the cool autumn breeze brushed against my skin as our feet dangled only a few feet above the water of Lake Michigan.

I lifted my head and took a calming breath, trying to put the chaos of work, of Hawke, of all my worries behind me.

When I opened my eyes, Josh was staring at me with a look of curiosity. “I think I have a few theories.”

I laughed and motioned with my hands for him to continue.

“So, you didn’t rob a bank?”

I shook my head, grinning.

With his thumb and his forefinger, he rubbed at his chin, as though in deep thought. “I think you’re a real-life princess.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, playing along and laughing at the seriousness in his tone.

“From the land of Princessovia. And you came to the United States to escape the madness and responsibilities of being the next heir.” He tipped his head for confirmation. “Am I right?”

I offered a noncommittal shrug. “Is that why you tried to fit a glass slipper on my foot?”

He pointed to me. “Exactly.”

I decided to let him in on my secret. “Nope. Wrong. But what if I told you that I was dating—or had dated—a rock star?” Saying it out loud sounded unbelievable, even to my own ears.

His smile faltered, only slightly. “Rock star, huh?”

I nodded.

“What’s said rock star’s name?”

I gulped, realizing I wanted to let it out, to let someone else in on my secret, besides Chloe. Not that the rest of the world didn’t already know now. “Hawke.”

Hawke didn’t need an introduction or his last name to be said.

Josh’s mouth slipped slightly ajar. “You’re kidding…”

I focused on the city in front of me, the twinkling of the lights from the skyscrapers within my focus. “Nope.”

The squawk of a bird flying above us filled my ears as it soared through the sky, and I wished it were me. I wished I could escape, like the bird disappearing above the clouds, unnoticeable to anyone, free to do whatever it wanted.

Josh was quiet for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Figures, a beautiful girl like you would be with the lead singer of a world-famous band.”

I shook my head. “It’s not like that.”

Every time I thought of Hawke, my heart would be weighed down because of the unknown.

“Live in the moment,” he’d said.

And the moments together were exciting, but they were also brief and fleeting.

“I mean, we were dating or something, and then we weren’t.” My forehead wrinkled, and I dropped my eyes, watching the ripples of the waves at my feet. “We weren’t exclusive, and I’m not sure we’re anything now.” Saying it was like a punch in the gut. It wasn’t like I was going to force him into a relationship if he didn’t want to be. “I mean…it wasn’t specifically said. I really did think it was over until he called me today.”

Josh angled closer, his voice soft, his eyes sincere. “You know you’re worth more than that.”

I glanced up at him, my knee touching his. “I genuinely like him. And maybe it’s wishful thinking or hope blooming in my chest because I believe in fairy tales and happily ever afters and all that stuff girls believe in, but I swear, he felt something for me, too. At least…I thought he did.” I averted my gaze, feeling silly and a lot embarrassed that those words had slipped out.

I hadn’t imagined it. Hawke had said he loved me; he’d said that it was only me. But, if I’d meant more to him, if I had been more than a random fling, then I was worth more than a few random texts.

“No doubt.” His eyes narrowed, as though he were thinking deeply. “There is no doubt in my mind that he’s head over heels for you, Sam.”

“Shut up,” I said, bumping my shoulder with his. Now was not the time for sarcasm.

“You think I’m kidding?” He shook his head and sighed.

Then, he reached for my hand again, and I peered down at our connection. It was as though my palm had been made to fit perfectly in his.

“And he’d better not screw up because I’m sure anyone would be happy to hold your heart.” His eyes held such sincerity that a rush of pink stained my cheeks.

“Please,” I scoffed. “You and your lines.”

He shook our intertwined hands. “I’m for real.”

The intensity of his gaze was so serene, so compelling, that I couldn’t help but believe him. I focused on the water hitting the concrete beneath my feet, reveling in the calmness, because I knew that it would be temporary, and tomorrow would be even more crazy than today.

I worried about work, about if the paps would disrupt my job—the job I needed to pay the bills and put me through school. I hadn’t applied to Cordon Bleu yet, and if I wanted to achieve my dreams, the clock was ticking. My thoughts were a jumbled mess.

The length of the stressful day had my shoulders sagging. Josh must have sensed my tiredness because he gathered me onto his lap. There was a tranquility that surrounded Josh that made me jealous.

In a continuous motion, he rubbed the center of my back. He held me in silence, and eventually, my breathing evened out.

We looked like an odd couple—me in my baggy clothes and Josh in his polo shirt and dress pants. I laughed and cowered into his shirt as I thought about it.

“What?” A glint of curiosity was heavy in his tone.

I peered up at him. “We’re a funny-looking couple.”

The vibrations of his laughter lightened my insides. “That we are, Princess. That we are.”

Staring into his warm dark chocolate eyes, I wondered how he had become so peaceful. I wished I could find peace like that.

Suddenly, years ago seemed like yesterday as memories came back. The pain from my mother’s death was the same; it never lessened. I craved his calmness.

I slipped off his lap and sat up straighter. “Can you tell me more about her? About your mom?”

His lips pressed into a smile, no teeth, and he nodded.

With his free hand, he picked a rock off the ground and tossed it into the lake. “Kathy Stanton, mother extraordinaire. She was my favorite person in the universe. Her presence would light up a room; her smile could brighten anyone’s bad mood.” His eyes clouded with old memories. “She was stunningly beautiful, and my dad was constantly jealous at the looks she’d get from other men, but that was nothing compared to her inner beauty.” His voice quieted at the end.

He tore his gaze from mine and lifted his eyes to the night sky. “She taught me more about life in the time that she was dying than I’d ever learned in my whole life. Toward the end, she lived for me and Casey. She told me there was no point in living life if you weren’t happy.” His stare grazed my face. “Words so simple, but they packed a punch. I realized, nothing else mattered.”

He blew out a breath and faced me. “Do you know Stanton Steel?”

I shook my head.

“The largest steel corporation in the nation?”

It still didn’t ring a bell. I shrugged.

He pointed to himself. “Josh Stanton, not of Stanton Steel.” He cringed and made a face, as though he’d eaten something spoiled and rotten and corporate.

“This is your long story?” When he nodded, I continued, “You didn’t want to go into the family business?”

“Nope. I knew I wanted to be a lawyer ever since I interned at a law firm my junior year in high school.”

Everything seemed to make sense—a life puzzle fitting together like a game of Tetris.

“So, they disowned you?” I asked softly. “Because you didn’t want to go into the family business? Is that why your father was mad at dinner?”

“Nope, more like I disowned them.” He picked up another rock next to him and tossed it in the lake. “Taking money from my family is like blood money. I’d feel like I owed them something, and I don’t want to owe them anything.”

“So, your dad is pressuring you?” I bit my tongue, willing myself to stop with the interrogation. Curious Cat was taking no prisoners today.

The way he shifted with unease let me know this discussion wasn’t his favorite topic.

He drew back, his eyes conflicted. “Nope, it’s not even him. It’s more my grandfather. What concerns my father is me working at Nordstrom to make ends meet when he could just hand me the money. The law firm I intern for now pays me close to peanuts.” He smiled, looking genuinely proud of himself. “But the thing is…I like peanuts.”

I stared at the person in front of me, the one who seemed so carefree but was also riddled with his own family problems.

I tilted my head, assessing the boyishly adorable male with the warmest brown eyes. “That says a lot about your character—that you’d give up making millions with your family business to do what you love.” I angled closer and nodded. “And it’s awe-inspiring.”

“Thanks, Sam.” For a brief second, his eyes became distant. “But, sometimes, when I see how it’s tearing my family apart, I wonder if it’s worth it.”

I bumped my shoulder against his. “It will be worth it. I promise you that. You just have to follow your dreams, do what you want.”

But I, of all people, knew that, without the resources, this was easier said than done. There were bills to pay and school loans to apply for.

“Follow your dreams.” His jaw tightened, and he placed his hand on top of mine, his eyes never breaking contact. “That’s what my mother always said. And, before she died, she made sure we were out of my grandfather’s grasp. That’s why we moved from New York, where Stanton Steel’s headquarters are located, to Chicago.”

I hadn’t known his mother, but I admired her strength, and I was envious of the unconditional love that she had shown her children.

I nodded and squeezed his hand. “I could imagine that was hard, but you have to do what’s right for you.”

The only sound between us was the lake, the swish of the waves rippling back and forth.

He blinked and stared at the water in front of us before meeting my eyes. “Tell me about your mom.”

I inhaled deeply as her face was pulled to the forefront of my mind. Memories of happier times played in my head like a movie. “We were attached at the hip.” My breathing slowed as my thoughts brought me back to my childhood. “We shared everything. She wasn’t just my mom. She was my best friend. I lived with a real-life hippie, high on life.” I smiled as thoughts of my mom and her carefree personality pushed to the surface.

“She loved my father beyond reason.” I inhaled deeply. “She told me stories about how they’d met, about falling in love within weeks, and marrying a month later.”

I focused on the water beneath us, the aqua blue slapping against the dark rocks. “She loved him even though he wasn’t right for her. Even though he made her feel worthless because he was insecure.” I swallowed a lump in the back of my throat and forced my next words out. “He was her life, and when he left…” My voice quivered. “When he left…she didn’t want to live anymore.”

I cowered into myself, my hands pressing to my stomach. “She spiraled into a depression. It was weird, seeing her so high on life one minute and doped up on antidepressants the next. I’d never felt so alone, so helpless. I was the only one who knew.”

I took a deep breath. “She was dependent. It was like she needed it, and when she broke her ankle, they put her on opiates. So it was her antidepressants mixed with Vicodin.” A visible shudder left my body. “After that, she’d take anything and everything, so she wouldn’t feel. Oxycontin, Percocet, Fluoxetine.”

Josh’s hands wrapped tightly around my shoulders, but I gently shook him off. His consoling touch would break me.

“So, I did what I thought would make her happy. I baked every day and forced her to do the same. It was our passion since she’d taught me how to bake. We continued to bring baked goods to the nursing homes and homeless shelter, as we’d done before. I thought I was breaking her out of her funk.” My lips felt dry, and my stomach clenched with sadness as I remembered what happened next.

“Cold?” Josh asked, rubbing his hands up and down my arms.

I shook my head. I was cold on the inside, not the outside. “And then she received the divorce papers.” My hands wrung together in my lap, chapped from the continual process. “And that’s when things got worse.”

I didn’t realize that tears had escaped my eyes until Josh pulled me to his side, his lips pressing to my forehead, and this time, I didn’t push him away because I needed the ice in my chest to thaw. I basked in the comfort of his embrace, that consoling touch.

I decided I needed it out. I hadn’t talked about it in such a long time that I needed to be free of the thoughts that had been weighing me down.

I shivered as another round of painful memories bombarded my mind. “I knew she wasn’t getting any better. The day I found her, an empty bottle of prescription drugs were by her bed along with a note telling me she was sorry.” I swiped under my eyes, willing the tears to stop, but they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

I hadn’t cried for my mother in years, and now, I’d done it three times in front of a guy I barely knew.

“I’m sorry,” Josh whispered. Gently, he pulled both of my hands into his lap and held them tightly in his own, brushing his thumb on the top of my fist. “You know it’s not your fault.”

“But it is…” I choked on the saliva coating the back of my throat as my mind was burned with the memory. “Because I saw the signs, and I didn’t tell anyone. I sat in the room as she cried and didn’t do anything about it. I baked her cookies for weeks, thinking that would break her from her funk. I was stupid. I should’ve known. I should’ve known. I should’ve…I should’ve done more.” More to help her, more to stop the out-of-control consumption of pills. If I had done more, she’d be here. She’d be alive.

“Look at me, Sam,” he coaxed softly.

I shook my head. I couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t see the pity and sorrow in them that was recognizable in everyone’s eyes that knew my story.

He didn’t give in. His voice was gentle but coercing. “Open your eyes, and look at me.”

The tone of his voice had me blinking my eyes open. My vision filled with Josh’s warm eyes staring back at me. No pity, no blame, just compassion.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

My finger swiped at the hot tear that had rolled down my cheek, but he pulled my hand down.

“She was not well,” he said firmly. “Depression is a sickness, a disease. You did all you could. Deep down inside, you know this is true.”

I tore my gaze from his and forced my tears to stop as I stared at the darkness in front of me. “I don’t know…”

The memories of her were pure and clear and dreadful. I wished that I could have done something to help her.

He stood and extended his hand. “Let’s go.”

My glossy eyes met his small smile. “Where?”

“Somewhere we can stop dwelling on the dead and live for the living.” He jerked his head to the side, urging me to stand. “Come on.” His smile was so endearing, one of his best qualities.

I stood and dusted the dirt off my borrowed pants. He intertwined our fingers, and I followed him, hopeful that I would find the inner peace from my mother’s death that he had found from his mother’s passing.

* * *

He keyed into his apartment, and I laughed, walking in and slipping off my shoes.

“Um, taking me to your apartment, so I can stop thinking about my dead mother is a real class act.”

He touched the tip of my nose. “Guys will be guys.” He shrugged, but there was no seriousness in his tone.

My feet padded over the dingy white carpet. His apartment was a decent size—a one-bedroom studio in the West Loop of Chicago. Pictures of his family and friends were mounted in black frames in the tiny hallway that led to the combination living room and kitchen area.

The upscale furnishing of his apartment did not fit the small space. It was like he had bought the furniture first, run out of money for the rent, and had to downgrade in space. And it was awfully girlie.

“So, what do we have planned, Casanova? Or shall I say, the guy with the lines?”

A cream couch decorated with a pink, red, and yellow floral pattern sat against the wall in front of a large flat screen TV. A sleek coffee table sat in the middle of the floor. There was a PlayStation on top of the table along with other gaming accessories, a contrast to its feminine stand.

Josh gestured toward the couch. “Sit down, Princess.”

I stripped off Jim’s hoodie, feeling a huge relief now that I was only in my short-sleeved black baby tee. I’d been sweating under all the layers I’d used to disguise myself from the photogs.

“I figured, since it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere soon, you can do what makes you happy, and I can do what makes me happy.”

I was unable to hide my grin. “What grand plan is this?”

“One second.” He rushed to his bedroom and emerged wearing basketball shorts and a sleeveless cutoff tee.

“We’re playing ball?”

He reeled back. “Pfft. Yeah, sure. I have the hoop hidden here in my massive abode.” He swept one hand across his apartment in an exaggerated gesture.

I laughed.

“No.” He jumped into the kitchen, hands spread wide. “We’re baking cookies.” His smile widened.

“You know, cooking”—he pointed to me—“makes you happy. And eating makes this man happy.” He jabbed his thumb against his chest.

I rolled my eyes with an exaggerated sigh, as though he had asked me to kill his puppy. “Fine. If I must. Even though that’s what I’ve been doing all day.”

I staggered to the kitchen but almost tripped on Jim’s mile-long jeans. I rolled them up at my waist.

Josh frowned at my predicament. “You need to change before you trip and get blood all over my clean carpet.”

I quirked a brow at his idea of clean carpet. “Yes, well, too bad I left my jeans at the restaurant.”

“Wait right there.” He disappeared before returning a second later, chucking a Chicago Bulls shirt and a pair of shorts in my direction.

My lips pursed as I eyed the shirt. “Even though I’ve lived in Illinois my whole life, I’m not into the Bulls.”

“So? Neither am I. I grew up in Manhattan.”

I smiled. He’d mentioned New York earlier but not the part he’d grown up in. “You grew up in Manhattan?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

I slipped quickly into his bathroom, shucked off the jeans, and pulled the shorts on. They were baggy, but I tightened the string at the waistband to keep them up.

“Like Manhattan, Manhattan?” I asked, walking out of the bathroom.

I had grown up in a small country town while the male in front of me had grown up in one of the biggest cities in the nation. Our childhoods couldn’t have been more different.

He nodded. “Born and bred in the center of the Big Apple.”

I stepped over to the stool against his kitchen bar that served as his kitchen table. “Okay, I need more.” My curiosity trumped any cooking that was going to be done.

He smiled—one dimple, not two. “More what?”

I blinked and pointed to his belongings. “Your things…they look like they belong in a home and garden magazine, but it’s like you squeezed them into this tiny, old apartment. Did you actually choose this furniture?”

He glanced down at the table. “It’s my sister’s furniture. When I took off, I didn’t want a dime. After a while, sleeping on the floor hurt my back.” He averted his eyes, looking sheepish. “She moved in with boyfriend Robert when things got serious, and I got her old furniture.” He tilted his head. “What’s up with the twenty questions?”

“You know practically everything about me, and I only know tidbits about you. Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?”

He pressed his elbows on the counter. “No offense, but I think half the world already knows about you now.”

I scrunched my face. “You had to remind me, didn’t you?”

His eyes flickered with amusement. “How did you get here, Sam?”

“In the world?” I asked, being a smart-ass. “Through my mother. Born at Carbarny Community Hospital.” I smirked.

“No, beautiful girl. Here, in Chicago. How did you get to Chicago?”

“I went through the small culinary program at a community college back home but moved here for the real deal. I’m applying to Le Cordon Bleu. You know this.”

It wasn’t fair that he knew my whole life story. I wasn’t done with my interrogation.

“I do know a lot about you. Is it selfish of me, wanting to know more?” he asked.

I adjusted myself on the stool, swiveling it from left to right. “Yes, it’s totally uncool, Joshua Stanton. Now, I get a turn. What is your deal?”

“One more.” He placed his hands together, as though he were saying a prayer. “Who decided for you? Who chose that school?”

My eyebrows pulled together. “Is this a trick question?”

“Nope.”

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him, wondering where this conversation was leading. “Me, of course.”

He focused on my bracelet. “Yeah. You see, I didn’t get that choice.” His head bowed as a heavy sigh escaped him.

I couldn’t imagine having someone, anyone, tell me what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

“Josh Stanton, at the end of the day, it’s your life and your choice in what you want to do with it.”

“You’re right.” His eyes flickered toward my lips, the lips that had been pressed to his earlier.

My phone rang in my purse on the couch, and I welcomed the distraction. Rushing to the floral sofa, I plucked out my phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, where are you?” It was Chloe.

“Um…” I glanced behind myself to Josh. “A friend’s house.”

She sighed, relieved. “It’s pretty bad here, Sam. Like, I-don’t-think-you-can-come-home bad.”

I groaned. It was no wonder Hawke had called them Satan’s Posse. They were keeping me from my own home? This was ridiculous.

“I’m coming home.” I refused to let them dictate what I did and did not do with my life.

“I highly suggest you don’t,” Chloe said. “You come home, and then they’ll just follow you to work. Harass you.”

I rubbed a throbbing spot on my temple. “How did you become the expert on the paparazzi?”

“Duh, Google!” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Repeat after me, ‘Google is our friend.’ It says that all of this should blow over in a few days. Until then, I really think you should stay away. At least for tonight. Let’s see if they get bored when you don’t show up.”

I ran one shaky hand through my hair, fiddling with my dead ends. “Fine, I guess I can go to Candice’s.”

But Candice’s place was smaller than Josh’s. It was a studio. The place was so small that she and her fiancé, Jerry, slept on a futon that also served as their couch.

“No,” Chloe said. “Don’t leave. It’s safer that way. Whose house are you at?”

“Josh’s.”

“Who?”

Of course Chloe didn’t know Josh. I barely knew Josh even though we had shared some intimate secrets about each other.

I tried to whisper into the phone, but I was sure Josh could hear me. “The Nordstrom guy.” Yes, I’d talked about him. I told Chloe everything.

She let out a low laugh. “And the plot thickens.”

“No plot,” I said quietly. “And I can’t stay here. I’m coming home.”

Then, her tone tightened. “I wouldn’t, Sam. Best friend advice. It’s not good out there. Like, I don’t even think it’s safe.”

“Fine, I’ll figure something out.” My shoulders dropped, as I felt defeated.

“Trust me, I’ve barely left my room. I’m afraid they can see through our windows with their supersonic lenses, and tomorrow, my uneven breasts will be plastered all over their magazines.”

We both laughed before we said our good-byes.

I hated this feeling, like my life had been turned upside down and there was nothing I could do to flip it upright again.

When I turned, Josh’s face lit up. “Sleepover?”

“No, I think I’ll just brave it.”

“No, you won’t,” he said, face serious. “You can take the bed, and I’ll totally take the couch. See? Perfect gentleman.” He spread his arms wide and grinned.

I teetered on the tips of my toes and back to the balls of my feet. “I don’t know.” I didn’t want to burden him.

“Scout’s honor.” He lifted three fingers in a solemn oath.

“You were in Boy Scouts, weren’t you?”

A knock on the door froze us both in our tracks.

“Shit! Do you think…” I was ready to bolt and hide in the bathroom or under the table or in the fridge.

Josh shook his head. “No. It’s probably Andy.” He laughed. “Andy was a Boy Scout, too.”

He opened the door, and I recognized his friend. He had been the guy hanging out of Josh’s car on the night of his birthday, the guy with the buzz cut where I could see his scalp.

Andy was built like a football player, not lean like Josh. Stockier. His baseball cap was flipped backward on his head, and he and Josh looked like frat boys standing together. All they needed was a beer in their hands.

Andy stepped into the living room, pizza box in one hand and a twelve-pack of beer in his other. He staggered to a stop when he realized that Josh had company.

“Hey…Sam, right?”

I slapped my palm against my forehead. “You, too? Damn gossip sites.”

He frowned at Josh, and I realized that he hadn’t known my name from the tabloids or the Internet.

“You’re Josh’s…friend, right?” The way Andy smiled, I knew that Josh had spoken about me before.

“Yes, sorry. I’m Sam. I think I met you on Josh’s birthday.” He was the guy driving Josh’s car that night.

Andy dropped the pizza on the center table in front of the TV and then strolled to the kitchen. “That’s right. And guess whose birthday is next weekend?” He opened Josh’s drawers, as though he owned the joint, opened the twelve pack, got out a bottle opener, and popped open three beers, handing one to Josh and one to me.

“Uh…” I turned to Josh.

If Andy was staying over, I’d be jumping into a cab and heading home.

“Princess over there is crashing here tonight.” He gave Andy an unapologetic look. “I’m giving you two hours, tops, and you’re outie, man.”

“What?” He slung an arm over Josh’s shoulders. “What about our bromance? The first pretty chick who walks into your life after Jenny, and I’m out the door?” He shook his head.

Josh’s face turned sour. “That was months ago.”

“That’s right. I’ve been keeping you company for months, and this is how you treat me?” he asked, feigning offense.

Josh extracted himself from under Andy’s arm. “You’d think he would have changed since elementary school.”

The side of my mouth ticked up. “So, you’ve known each other since the playground?”

Andy nodded in a continuous motion, pointing a thumb into his chest. “Transfer, baby, just like my best bud over here.” He threw back his beer, chugging it like there was going to be a drought. “So, you coming to my birthday party next weekend?”

I cocked my head. “What?”

He leaned in, resting his hip against the black countertop. “We’re having my birthday party at The Seg, this swanky restaurant that I rented out.”

Andy must have come from money, too. You could only get in The Seg with reservations. I knew the Chicago restaurant circuit like I knew how to make chocolate truffles.

“I know the place.”

“Well, you’re coming right?” He turned toward Josh. “Tell your girl she’s going.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m not his girl.”

Andy waved his hand like I hadn’t spoken. “Whatever. You’re going, Josh’s non-girlfriend.” He strolled toward the couch and plopped down, dropping his bottle with a thump on the top of the table and reaching into the box for a slice of pizza. “Dinner?”

“I’m not hungry for pizza. I’m ready for dessert.” Josh walked over, laced our fingers, and pulled me into the kitchen. “I offered my place, and all I ask is that you bake me something because I have a really, really bad sweet tooth.”

My eyes flew down to our joined hands before meeting his chocolate-brown eyes. Andy was already flipping through the channels. Clearly, he’d been here countless times.

Josh smiled again—this time, with two dimples.

Then, I nodded. “That, I can do.”