Worst night’s sleep ever.
After escaping Chase’s soul sucking eyes, Kristen checked me in and, taking no precautions, took me up the service elevator in case Chase was following. I rolled my eyes the whole time, saying how ridiculous it was, but she informed me she was not blind to the moment we just shared and since my hand was still shaking in hers, it was not ridiculous at all.
She told me to order room service if I didn’t want to leave the room, and I agreed. I just needed to process. But with all the precautions Kristen had been taking, when I picked up the phone to order my normal pizza, I became super paranoid Chase would track me down by my infamous pizza order and spat out some random dish instead. Needless to say, the chicken parmesan went untouched.
I lay in bed attempting to watch TV, but all I could do every two fucking seconds was bring my eyes away from the screen and on to that connecting door. I was so tense, thinking that at any point it was going to open and Chase would walk through. I told myself it was impossible and to knock it off. I lasted a whole thirty-seven seconds before I finally got up and took any furniture that was light enough to move and barricaded the door.
But still, I felt no ease. Midnight rolled around, then one, then two, and it was in the crazy hours of the morning, when I had to have been so sleep deprived that I pondered ordering pizza just to see if it set off some secret buzzer notifying Chase where I was.
Once my alarm went off and I almost finished counting the specs on the ceiling, I gave up and just got up. I showered and dressed in a black dress that sat just above my knees, along with my red Converse. I left my hair down so people were less likely to see the bags under my eyes. Maybe they would focus on my pretty bright shoes instead. Kristen came and got me, and as we walked to the banquet hall, the closer we got, the more my unease set in.
“I… I don’t think I can do this.” I stop, waving off the sweat building in my palms.
“Kat, yes, you can. Trust me, you’ll barely see him. You have a line out the door. Once you’re done I’ll escort you back or we can leave the hotel and go out.”
I hate that this has become such a bigger deal. I don’t want to admit that I secretly do want to see Chase. But that’s just the sucker part of me. Then there’s that tough guy in me that screams just rip off the Band-Aid. Just fucking deal with him and get the fuck over it.
“I know. I… I just need a minute.”
She nods, and we stand there, allowing me to breathe. Two more deep breaths and I give her the okay, let’s do this. But once we walk into the banquet hall, shit hits the fan.
“I swear, I had them set up the way you requested last night. I have no idea how or who got in here to move them, but I’m working to find out.” Tara looks like she’s going to throw up.
Kristen looks murderous, and I look, well, I look, I don’t know what I look like.
We all stand there, at the table settings, the updated settings, to see that Charlie Bates’ table has been moved directly across from mine.
“Well, who the ever-loving fuck did all this?” Kristen barks, waving her hands all over the place.
“Like I said, I’m trying to figure it out. I just called down to maintenance to have someone move them.”
“Move them? The doors are about to open in less than two minutes!” Kristen is now yelling and other authors are looking our way. Without warning the volunteers to stall, they open the doors. And mayhem begins.
“God, Kat, I’m so sorry. I can fix—”
“Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” I assure her.
“Honey, no. This is not okay.”
“Kristen, you’ve done way too much. I’m a grownup. I need to start acting like one. I can handle it.”
And just as I vow to be the bigger person, Chase walks in, along with his assistant, smiling from ear to ear.
And Kristen attacks.
“You little—”
I grab her forearm, stopping her from jumping Chase. “Kristen, seriously. Chase and I are adults. We can work across from one another, right, Chase?”
His eyes don’t leave mine. He doesn’t even acknowledge the death stare from Kristen. “Yes, I promise. I’ll behave. I just wanted to be close in case anything happens.” He steps up to me, my body instantly on fire. “I promise I won’t bother you. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Talk, Katie.
Say something.
Fucking nod!
Ugh. It takes me gulping down my emotions to finally speak. “It’s fine. Just stay on your side of the pond, Bates, got it?” I force the humor out, needing this tension to wade.
I sense the hurt in his eyes when I call him Bates, but we need that separation. He can’t be Chase Green to me anymore.
“Okay. Well, then, it’s settled. Get on your side, Mr. Bates,” Kristen snaps, then turns to me. “And if you need anything, you call for me.” And with that our signing begins.
Dedication.
Holy smokes do these fans have it.
Every single signing, I’ve sold out of books. I don’t even know how. People don’t buy just one. They buy three, five, a dozen, getting books for friends, blogs, one to read and one to keep in a locked bookshelf like special autographed trophies.
And don’t get me started on all the homemade fan swag. The homemade T-shirts? They were awesome. The words Love Broken looked pretty badass across chests and backs. I’m now a proud owner of a few.
The signing room is packed with rows of crisp white linen tables, topped with thick books, thin books, naughty covers and sweet ones. The crazed amount of colorful swag littering in between. Pens, cups, bookmarks, the list goes on and on. And you can literally feel the vibrancy of the crowd. The chatter between friends, strangers, fans, and even tagalong husbands. It’s just complete madness. And in the world of book signings, there’s no time to dwell. On anything. Even a certain model across the way.
Due to the chaos of the day, I’m able to take my mind off Chase. For the early part of the signing, my attention is completely engrossed by readers. And who can not be engrossed by a bunch of people dressed in head to toe “Love Broken” riot gear. Because that’s apparently what you get when you write a story that creates a phenomenon about women who realize they are worth more than a fake endearment and a self-indulgent slap on the ass.
These women of all ages were seeing life and love in a completely different light. They didn’t want to fall for the various types of fake bullshit life was feeding them. It was complete bananas the range of stories I listened to. There was the teenager who got screwed over by the high school football star, the college girl who got taken advantage of by her long-distance boyfriend. The bartenders, the business women. The shy, the bold, the strong, the not so… They all had a story. A girl trying to be someone they weren’t, just to get the guy.
The saddest thing is, that with each and every single story I listened to, I could relate. The boy in high school you spent your entire freshman year doing anything to get noticed by and, finally, at a party when he’s drunk as shit, he tells you you’re pretty, just to lure you into the bathroom and steal a part of you that was meant for someone special.
How about the college stories, of all girls who just want to get the guy? College being the worst stereotype when it comes to love and bullshit. It’s not a place for love, it’s a place where the girl doesn’t not only not get the guy, she gets a complex and a lifelong set of insecurities and daddy issues.
We grow up just wanting forever. Guys grow up wanting the complete opposite. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not labeling every guy on the planet. I know there are men out there, from adolescent to retired, who want nothing more than to find the same love us women do. I just have absolutely no idea where those rare species are. I’ve heard and read about them, but they just don’t seem to run in the same circles—shit, same realm as me. As most of society.
Okay, so yeah, there was a time where I could name off a certain someone who met the endangered, perfect man, species list. At least I thought I could. And after listening to story after story about jerks, it made me put my own situation into perspective. I shouldn’t be sad about how things went down with Chase and me, but should be madder. Angry. Revengeful!
With a frown now marring my face, I see him already looking my way, wearing his tender eyes and bullshit smile. As I stare back blankly, I slowly lift my hand to scratch at a fake itch on my cheek. All while conveniently placing my middle finger up at him.
Immature? Probably.
But do I feel slightly better? Absolutely.
Okay, so that better feeling lasts about as long as it takes me to spell a-b-s-o-l—
Oh, fuck it.
I was hoping the rewarding gesture would last me through the day, but as I grab another sneak peek, he’s not, as I’d hope, standing there in shock, mad, devastated at my lack of affection. No. He’s all Chase Green, the sweet man, who saves spiders and cries at Hallmark movies. The man who shares meals and offers you the first scoop of freshly buttered popcorn so you get the best mouthful.
He’s the perfect one.
At least he used to be.
I watch him shake hands with a young girl who seems to be in tears at meeting him. I watch him sign her poster, give her a hug, and smile wide for a picture. My stupid, traitorous emotions have me swelling a wee bit with pride at how good he is with people. How kind he is. He doesn’t flaunt himself like some of the other models at the signing do. He isn’t pouring booze down his chest allowing crazed fans to lick it off him just to feel more popular.
It’s the images of him late at night, kissing my neck, caressing my skin, and whispering words of trust and love, once a warmness in my heart, but now ruined because the perfect man I see before me isn’t so fucking perfect. Because those beautiful moments are tainted by memories of his betrayal and lies.
Before I tear my eyes away, he catches me once again. A look of confusion covers his face, mostly due to the fact my facial expression is close to one of a psycho. I look away. Lucky enough, I’m greeted by another reader, and the thoughts of kicking over his table quickly fades in the background. A woman, looking to be in her late forties, comes up to me, holding half a bookstore of books in a rolling crate behind her.
“Oh boy, did you rob a bookstore before you came here?” I ask, smiling and reaching out to help take some of the load she’s carrying off her hands. I put them on my table to properly shake hands and trade introductions.
“You would think. It’s a damn pleasure to meet ya, darlin’. The name’s Leanne.”
I stick my hand out, but she goes straight for the hug.
“Sorry, where I’m from we hug. We’re all friends here.”
I laugh because she’s right. Since the tour began I’ve learned that readers are lifelong friends. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Leanne. Looks like you may have enjoyed my book. Unless you’re here trying to return all these,” I kid. Clearly, I have no idea if someone can return a book at these things.
“Return? Hell no, darlin’, you ain’t getting these books back. They’re like our bible now back down in Shelbyville. Our local bookstore only carries so many books, so I had to purchase all the copies they had from you. Girls from the town over were getting wind of our stock, so it was only a matter of time before the Shelbyville bookstore sold clean out of it.”
“Bible?” Curious to the comparison.
“Oh, honey, the whole town practically read your book. The men dogged it, sorry to admit, them worthless pigs. But it was ’cause they were busted. Us women, oh, honey, it’s changed us. For the better. No more dealings with all the bunkum shit we all put up with. Krista from the grocery store, she used to spend hours on herself fixin’ to meet a man. Now? She’s gotten rid of her makeup. More like clown face as some of us girls used to say, but let me tell ya’ll, she’s a beauty. When she stopped worrying about trying to look all done up for a man, her true self shined on right through. Found herself a nice man at church two weeks later.”
My brows shoot up, humor filling my expression. “Oh, wow. Good for Krista,” I reply.
I shake my head. These are the stories I hear all day. Outside of my little dive bar, the problem with men was a lot bigger than I thought, and these women, they just stood for so much more now.
“Honey, I don’t mean to pry, but that handsome looking boy over there keeps locking his eyes over here. If I was to guess, he may be sweet on you.”
I lift my head from signing one of her books to see Chase staring our way. His hands in his pockets, his eyes directly on me. Once ours meet, he smiles.
Jerk.
“Oh, don’t waste your time on that guy… he’s just a pretty face. I heard…” I lean in, lowering my voice. “He has major performance issues, if you know what I mean.” I pull back, watching her eyes widen, taking another glance Chase’s way.
“Oh my, what a shame. He sure looks like he would be just a pleasant handful in bed.”
Pffft.
As if.
Totally as if… God… don’t go there, Katie.
“Trust me. Girls talk. Don’t get me started on the whole rash—”
“Excuse me, miss?”
We both turn to see Chase standing not two feet from us offering up his addictive smile. I take that moment to give him the death stare, while my new bestie falls right into his trap.
“Why, hello there, cute thing. We were just—”
And I accidently nudge my new friend. Both look my way. “Oops, sorry. She was just saying we were just talking about jerks and how they have no sense in the word trust and honesty.”
“Well, and of course yo—”
Shit.
“Heavens, dear, why do you keep jabbing me?”
“No idea. Anyway, you can go back to your side, model boy.” Please just go away.
No such luck.
“Well, since I did come all the way over here, I was hoping to get a picture with this young lady. You two look so familiar. Is this your sister, Miss Swan?”
I’m going to kill him.
Leanne blushes like a damn school girl. I believe I notice her eyelashes flutter like one too. “Oh no, you sweet thing. I’m old enough to be her mother.”
Oh, here we go.
The theatrics on this guy are ridiculous. I watch Chase’s eyebrows lift in shock, placing his palm to his chest. “No. I don’t believe it.”
And Leanne eats—no, she gobbles it all up.
“Well, I am.”
“I must say, you look fantastic. Do share your secrets.”
Give me a freaking break here! He needs to go. I’m not falling for this sweet guy bullshit. I can sense Leanne is about to confess to Chase all her beauty secrets, so it’s time I step in.
“Mr. Bates. I think it’s time you head on back to your table. Your fans are getting impatient.”
He doesn’t even look at his table. He keeps his attention all on Leanne. Pulling out his phone, he opens an app and goes in for the kill. “Not before I get a picture to remember this day. Do you mind…?”
“Oh, it’s Leanne.”
“Leanne. Beautiful name to match the beautiful lady.”
Dead. Fucking dead.
He turns to my drooling line. “Would you mind taking a picture?” Chase asks the reader in front of the line. A small part of me hopes the girl takes his phone and runs with it like she looks like she’s debating on doing.
Again, no such luck.
Dammit.
She smiles and takes his phone, raising it for the perfect shot.
Just as I step back to allow jerk face and Leanne to get their shot, Chase suddenly reaches out, grabbing my arm. “Oh, I’m gonna need you in it as well, Miss Swan. Me in between two beautiful ladies? My mother wouldn’t even believe me unless I show her the picture to prove it.”
Leanne sighs.
I believe I growl.
I don’t know what he’s trying to pull here, but it’s not going to work. I look around and everyone is watching. Well, watching Chase. Leanne looks at me with the biggest smile on her face, waiting for me to step up and take the photo. It’s just a picture, Katie. I fail at hiding my eye rolling, but I give in and step forward. I go to stand next to Leanne, but I’m pulled to the left, putting Chase between us. His arm goes around her neck and his other around mine. I can’t help but stiffen at the way he’s touching me. Just a picture, Katie. I have to remind myself, otherwise I’ll put too much thought into the way he has his hand gently resting over my shoulder blade. His fingers, on purpose no less, slowly brush against my skin.
“Okay, ready?” the girl asks, preparing to take our photo.
“You bet,” Chase replies and three flashes radiate from his phone. Once she’s done, I start to pull away, but Chase pulls me in closer, leaning into me. I feel his breath hitting my earlobe, as his words strike. They’re soft and just above a whisper, but loud enough for my heart to hear. “I miss you.” He pulls away just as slowly, as if no meaning or tension just sparked between us.
He then lets me go and says his goodbyes to Leanne. He walks back to his side of the room and continues his day as if he didn’t just fucking ruin mine.
I’m tired.
Hungry.
And crabby.
I signed the last four books with the wrong name, having to toss them and sign my pen name instead of my real name. If I wasn’t signing Katie by accident, I was writing Abby instead. Again, tired, hungry, and crabby. I have no idea how people do this all the time. The first signing was fine because I was so busy playing googly eyes across the room with doofus during, and googly everything in the bedroom afterward. I can’t really complain too much about the second signing tour because, well, I didn’t make it through the whole thing. I still feel guilty at all the heat Kristen took for me cutting out halfway through.
I’m in the twilight zone staring at Amy as she restocks all my stuff onto the table, preparing for tomorrow’s signing, when a shoulder bumps into me.
“Whoa there.” I turn, holding out my hands to steady a drunk dude. I notice he’s wearing a name badge, which means he’s somehow a part of the signing. Getting a peek at his name, I realize he’s Winston Mills, the model Kristen caught privates deep in a reader in the bathroom last tour.
“Whoa yourself, gorgeous.” He takes a step too close, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I proceed to take a step back, but he grabs my forearm. “Hey now, where you going? We’re just getting to know each other.” He pulls my arm, causing me to trip into him. My hands fly up, unintentionally grabbing at his chest. He takes my mishap the wrong way, as I watch his sleazy eyes light up. “Well, then, how about we take this to your room and continue our introductions?”
My stomach clenches in an ‘I want to vomit’ sort of way. I push off him, but he doesn’t let me go, which quickly irritates me. “Yeah, no, thanks, pal, but you can let me go.” I try again, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.
“Feisty. Even better. Love when you women play hard to get. Did you want me to call you dirty names to get you all worked up? The last one, she—”
“I think she said she wasn’t interested, man.”
We both turn to see Chase, his cool factor to him, with his hands in his pockets, but there’s no hiding the blaze in his eyes. I push off Drunky Douche again and this time he releases me. He eyes Chase up and down before he speaks. “Sup, man. I know you. You’re the hockey player. Read some article you’re about to go pro.”
Eyebrows raised, I turn to Chase, waiting for his response. I didn’t see or read anything about this.
Not that I was stalking or anything.
“Never believe what you read, man,” he replies in a cool tone, sidestepping the question.
“Whatever you say. I bet you get tons of chicks, though. Sports and modeling at these things? I envy you, bro. We should swap stories over a beer sometime.”
At that I cringe. Chase’s expression darkens.
“Doubtful. Why don’t you keep walking, though? I’m sure this one has to finish packing up.”
Douchecanoe turns my way, taking an eyeful of me, and steps back into my personal space. “Ahh, come on, babe. Don’t be shy. I’ll make it just as worthwhile.” He lifts his arm, his hand gunning for my cheek. Chase takes a defensive step forward as I slap Douche’s hand away.
“Wow, you’re a piece. Seriously. If I were into guys who reek of cheap booze and even cheaper sounding pickup lines, I’d be all over it, but this time, hard pass.”
His eyes flare with anger. It’s apparent he’s not used to being turned down. “Whatever, bitch.”
I quickly take a menacing step toward him. “What did you just call me?” I put my hand up just as Chase comes at him, warning him to stay out of this.
“I called you a bitch. I know about you. The one who thinks she’s all high and mighty. One who wrote that book trashing guys. Didn’t even finish the last tour. Cost a lot of readers money. Heard it was because you got played too—”
Winston is cut off by Chase shoving him from the back. His arm goes up to swing when I step in between. “Chase, stop!” I yell and push him away. I turn to Winston, but he’s already walking away, but not before pushing my books off my table. The sound makes me jump, reminding me of when that psycho attacked me, almost knocking my table over.
“Are you okay?” Chase is behind me, putting his hands over my shoulder.
I knock them off, whipping around to face him.
“I didn’t need you to do that,” I snap at him.
“Yeah, well, he was being a prick.”
“Yeah, and I don’t need you fighting my battles. I could’ve handled that myself.”
His eyes become angry. “And I’m sure you could’ve, but I felt the need to step in.”
“Well, next time don’t,” I finish and turn around, grabbing my purse and storming out of the banquet hall. Chase is on my tail, running after me, calling my name. I wish I could just click my heels and disappear. Magically be in my room so I don’t have to face him.
“Katie, wait up.”
I don’t listen, but pick up the speed.
“Just talk to me.” He tries to stop me at the elevator, but I sidestep him, trying to ignore his dominance, his anger. “Katie, for Christ’s sake, stop. I fucked up, I know. But if you just hear me out, you’ll understand. I swear—”
I twist, slapping the hand trying to grab for my shoulder off me. “I’m gonna understand? How so? As in understand that you lied? Betrayed me? Us? There’s nothing to under—”
“There fucking is! Goddammit,” he snaps but quickly checks himself. He’s silent, trying to rein in his sudden anger. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, it’s just—”
“Just what? That you fucked up?”
“Yes. More than you even know. But if you just listen…”
“I can’t. And I won’t. I told you how I felt. I won’t lower myself and be fed more lies. I already told you, you won. You won my heart. Not sure what you do with it now, since it’s in fucking pieces,” I spit and turn back toward the elevator, smacking the call button for one to arrive.
Chase takes a calculated step toward me. “Katie, please. Please just let’s go upstairs and talk. I promise you I won’t try anything. I just want to talk.”
And trick me? Lie to me more? Bury me even further into the world of pain and regret I’m already suffocating in?
“No,” I say, hitting the button again. I refuse to look at him this time. I can’t. I can’t see the guilt in his eyes, or the torment shining in mine. And there is so much of both. There’s regret that I ever let him get under my skin. Allowed him inside my simple world. Guilt that I’m so bullheaded and won’t let him explain. Convince me everything I’ve endured the past month has been a bad dream. And God, the torment I won’t give in and allow him to take me into his arms and cradle me until my heart feels whole again.
A big mistake on my part, I turn and look at him. And I know just by the pain that radiates from his beautiful green eyes that he can’t do that. He won’t be able to wipe away the wrong.
“Katie, please.”
“Dammit, no!” I stomp my foot, squeezing my eyes shut. “What don’t you get? I’m done. This, us, we’re over. I don’t care what you have to say.” I reopen them and face him. “There’s nothing you can say or do to convince me that anything you’ve done or said was real. You’re a liar. A fake. And exactly the kind of person I despise.”
I hate myself for the way the anguish seeps through his eyes. But I can’t worry about how he feels. I need to worry about how I get through tonight. Tomorrow and the next day without feeling lost and broken.
“So that’s it? You’re just done with us? Done trying?”
“Yes.” I stare back at the elevator door.
“I don’t believe you. I know you love me. I know you love me just as much as I love you.”
“Well, then, you’re just as much a liar as you are naive.” I fight not to show the emotions tearing me apart on the inside. My breaths are calculated as I count with each lungful, knowing I cannot show weakness.
“So, then there’s no reason for me to bother? You want me to leave you alone?”
No. “Yes.”
“And that’s it? You’re willing to just call it quits without even hearing me out?”
God, I want to. “Yes.”
“You know… I thought our story would end with for better or worse. Not this. You said you trusted me. But it seems I was wrong.”
I want to slap him for trying to turn this around on me. I don’t react, but the single tear running down my cheek says enough. I want to scream I wanted forever too. But I didn’t do this to us. With malice in my tone, I respond, “Our story ended the moment you betrayed us—”
“I didn’t betray us! Dammit, Katie, why won’t you listen!” His voice booms through the lobby, eyes turning our way. A few phones lift to snap bullshit photos, I’m sure for their Facebook gossip groups.
I turn back finally, needing this to end. “Accept what it is, Chase. You’re starting to look pathetic. I’m not into you. To be honest, your bullshit did me a favor. Let it go. Let me go.” My last words take everything out of me, as I press the button one last time, finally having the damn elevator hitting the lobby floor and opening. I walk into the empty elevator and turn, seeing Chase’s wounded eyes. Angry. In denial maybe. I press the button for my floor and just before the doors close I speak. “Have a nice life, Chase.” I watch the doors close on his beautiful, crushed face.