CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Although I missed Chase when he was away on his European press tour, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It allowed me to study for and finish my finals so that when he got back, the only thing I’d have to do was find a grown-up job. I still had my fingers crossed that the Foundation would hire me on full-time, but I worried on days like today when everything was so slow that I had nothing to do.
I should have used the time to study, but instead I went through some of the texts and e-mails Chase had sent me while he’d been gone. Like the picture of the back of a minivan with one of those stick families on it.
It reminded me of Chase’s disdain for marriage, something I hoped had started to change, given our last conversation.
Then there was the black-and-white photo he’d taken of himself lying in his hotel bed. To say he was photogenic would be an understatement. He was lying on a bed on fluffy white pillows with an arm behind his head, surrounded by a massive comforter. His shirt was off, and he wore that sly, sexy smirk I loved.
Instead of drooling all over the photo and letting him know I’d only barely retained consciousness after I’d seen it, I texted back:
We talked on the phone when we got the chance. He’d called last night, and I had gone out on our tiny balcony to talk to him.
“What have you learned about this week?” Chase hadn’t had traditional schooling or gone to college, but one of the things I loved about him was that he read about subjects that interested him all the time. He thought it was because his on-set tutors let him choose which things he wanted to study. Sometimes to do research for a movie role, other times because the topic of the book appealed to him.
“In women’s studies I learned men suck.” I had told him many a tale about our discussion topics in that class.
“Present company excluded, of course. I meant other than that.”
I had this ancient–American civilization class to fulfill a world-civ requirement, and we’d ended the semester with a guest lecturer who taught us about the Mayans. I told Chase some of the things the professor had said. “I’m kind of fascinated. I went out and bought the book he brought to class, and I’ve been reading it when I should be studying for other classes.”
“Who is it by?” His voice had a strange quality I didn’t quite recognize.
“Michael D. Coe.”
“Hang on.”
I got an alert that he had sent me a picture. It was of his nightstand. At the top of a pile of books was the very same one I’d been telling him about. It had a different cover but the same title, same author. I was pretty sure I hadn’t tweeted about it or told him about it before. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I was in a used bookstore in Dublin a couple of days ago and came across it. I thought it looked interesting. I guess you and I are on the same wavelength.”
Or it was another one of those signs Chase was always looking for. Although reading the same book at the same time was probably just a coincidence and not a message from the universe saying that Chase and I were meant to be.
“You really should get a tablet. You’re going to strain your back carrying around all those books.”
“It’s okay. I’m strong.” Then he sent me a picture of himself flexing, and I had to use my notebook to fan my face. He had the best arms. I did think it was adorable that he insisted on reading only paper books because he liked the feel and smell of them. I loved that he read because he enjoyed it and not because some professor forced him to or because he was a random hipster hoping to show up on some girl’s Instagram reading paperbacks in public (and yes, I once went out with a guy like that).
My phone beeped, interrupting my daydreams about Chase’s arms. He had put out a new tweet.
Every time Chase deliberately substituted a Z for an S, it was a special tweet meant just for me.
But it didn’t help my blood pressure when stupid Amelia Swan, who was on the press tour with him, tweeted back:
Grr. Stupid Amelia Swan. Why wouldn’t she leave Chase alone? Were you allowed to punch movie stars? Or was that reserved for politicians and scary clowns?
My grandma always told me not to hate people, so I knew I shouldn’t hate Amelia Swan, but if she were on fire and I had a glass of water, I would drink it.
Things only got worse when Lexi sent me an urgent e-mail with the subject line of “When will this girl get a clue?” telling me I had to look at a link. It led to an article entitled, “Old Flames Reignite!” It had a bunch of pictures of what looked like Chase and Amelia walking down a sidewalk, heads close (and she was wearing a skirt so short I could see her tonsils). There were pictures of them eating at a café. Smiling and laughing. One where she had her hand on his arm.
And then one where they were about to kiss.
With my heart in my throat, I read the article. It talked about how these pictures had been taken in London yesterday on their press tour and said the website’s source revealed, “When they got away from all the cameras, Chase remembered why he fell for Amelia in the first place. They’ve been inseparable and are definitely dating again. It’s serious. They have plans to move in together when they return to the States.”
It’s not true, I told myself over and over, ignoring the shards of ice that had solidified my veins. It’s not true. Chase wouldn’t cheat on me. He said he wouldn’t.
My nasty, insecure voice raised her ugly head. But she’s gorgeous and would sleep with him in a heartbeat. She can give him what you won’t.
Even if they weren’t on the verge of getting back together, had they dated? Chase had never mentioned that before. Not that I’d pushed him very hard about his past. From what I’d gathered, it was more colorful than a Vincent van Gogh painting, and I didn’t need the details.
Now I wondered if that had been a mistake.
I texted Lexi.
I wanted her to talk me down. To tell me like she normally did that of course they weren’t and Chase had much better taste than that. Instead what I got back was,
So not what I needed to hear. I decided to call Chase right then and there. He was supposed to be in Berlin today, and I was about to look up the time difference when Miriam stuck her head in the door. “They need you in the conference room.”
With a heavy sigh, I shut my laptop and followed her out. I wondered if it would be another rah-rah/bragging meeting. Within the last few weeks, staff members had managed to secure a former Vine star, a stand-up comedian I’d never heard of, and an actor from a seventies sci-fi show who currently made his living going to Comic Cons and charging fans to take pictures with him (Stephanie almost spontaneously combusted at that last one).
But it wasn’t a staff meeting. Just a handful of people, including Francisco. Francisco glanced at me when I walked in. “Thanks for finally joining us, Zoe. This is the committee to redesign the solicitation letter and our brochure, and Stephanie asked that you be included.”
Design and graphics weren’t really my thing, being a math kind of girl, but I was excited that Stephanie had requested I be included. That sounded like it would bode well for my future here. I was all for anything that would tip the scales in my favor when I applied for a paying job.
But two hours later I wasn’t sure why she wanted me on that committee. Nobody listened to anything I suggested, and after two attempts I gave up and stayed silent, wondering about Chase. Where he was and what he was doing. If he remembered to dead-bolt his hotel room to keep that opportunistic succubus out.
The meeting ended, my shift was over, and I just wanted to get out of there. My phone rang, and I couldn’t answer fast enough when I saw it was him. “Hey!”
“Hey, babe. What’s going on?”
I gathered my stuff and had a momentary pang of weirdness when I noticed that my laptop was open. I could have sworn I’d shut it before the meeting. I swept it into my bag and headed for the front door. “The aliens have invaded and demanded our top movie stars be turned over. It’s a good thing you’re out of the country.”
“Not so good.” He sounded tired. “Amelia’s terrorizing everyone.”
I was so happy he was the one who’d brought her up so I wouldn’t sound jealous and psycho. I would be smooth and subtle. “What’s she doing?”
“Apparently they brought her poached eggs with yolks instead of scrambled egg whites, and she’s refusing to come out of her room. The producers want me to convince her to do our scheduled interview and photo shoot.”
“Did you have a thing with Amelia in the past?” So much for smooth and subtle.
“A thing?” he repeated, which made me nervous. It seemed like he was being evasive.
“Did you and Amelia date?” Couldn’t be plainer than that.
My stomach flipped repeatedly while I waited for him to answer.
“For, like, five minutes a very long time ago. It wasn’t serious. At all.”
Oh. Somehow that made it worse. Obviously I didn’t know from personal experience, but I’d heard that casual flings were easy to fall back into. Although, on the plus side, he must have been the one to break it off, since she was the one still publicly pursuing him. I hated the fact that she was there with him and I was here without him.
I had to get hold of myself. Not overreact. Smooth and subtle. “Maybe you shouldn’t be the one to convince her to do the interview and photo shoot, considering that the last time you asked her to do something, it was to stop being your girlfriend.”
“You say girlfriend; I say angel of darkness. For the record, she was never my girlfriend.”
The insecure voice was back. Do you know who goes on the record? People with something to prove.
Shut up, I hissed back. “That sounds rough.”
“And now all the people from the magazine are mad, and you know nothing good comes from a bunch of angry Germans.” He let out a tired sigh. “I have to go and see if we can salvage this. Knowing I get to see you soon is the only thing getting me through this. I should be home by nine tomorrow night. Will you come over?”
I’d be able to get more information out of him in person than I could when he was trying to work. “Absolutely. Good luck. I lo—bye.” I hung up in a hurry, stunned at what I’d almost just done. I’d almost told him I loved him, when for all I knew he was using his lips to convince Amelia to do the interview.
The entire drive home I convinced myself I was fine. That I could trust Chase and he wasn’t cheating on me. But when I was in the safety of my own bedroom, I opened my laptop and started searching for the pictures of him with Amelia. A half hour in and I was sobbing.
Which is how Lexi found me. “Are you—are you crying?”
I was never much of a crier, so I understood her surprise. “No. A twig covered in dust fell in my eye while I was chopping onions.”
She sat on my bed. “Well, that’s not true. You would never chop onions.”
That made me laugh-cry and sniffle. She went to the bathroom and got me a box of Kleenex. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to calm down. “I think he might be cheating on me.”
“Why?”
I blew my nose and threw the wadded-up tissue into our trash bin. “There’s this woman from work who’s after him. She’s just like Amelia Swan.” Not just like. The actual Amelia Swan.
Lexi nodded. “I hate her already. And she’s going after Noah?”
I nodded, my throat feeling so thick. “I told you he was on that business trip, and she’s with him.”
She crinkled her nose. “I would hope he would have more integrity than that.”
“You and me both.” My breath was shaky when I tried to inflate my lungs. “The thing is . . . the thing is, I keep wondering if he’s messing around with her because I won’t.”
“If you have to sleep with a guy to hold on to him, you never had him in the first place. Don’t doubt yourself or your decisions.”
She was right, but some part of me kept insisting I had to do something to secure Chase. To make sure he didn’t start looking around for someone who would give him what he wanted.
“Isn’t he coming home soon?”
“Yeah.” I sniffled again.
“Then you need to get in there and mark your territory when he gets back.”
I knit my eyebrows in confusion. “You want me to pee on him?”
“What? Ew. No. When you see her, you let her know he’s your man and she needs to back off.”
That wouldn’t be possible. “I’ve never even met her.”
Now it was Lexi’s turn to look confused. “I thought you said she was from the Foundation.”
That was the problem with lying. You started to lose track. “Right. I mean, I don’t really hang out with her or talk to her.” I pulled a thread on my blanket, unable to look my best friend in the eye thanks to the shame and guilt. So I deflected. “Shouldn’t you be telling me to ignore her and take the high road?”
“Meh. That road’s too high. We could fall off.”
I sat up and hugged her. I felt like the worst person in the world. After telling me everything would work out, she went to the kitchen to make dinner. She offered to cook me something, but I’d been crying for so long that eating was the last thing I wanted to do.
Plus, I didn’t deserve her food or her kindness. I had all these reasons, all these excuses, one even legal, for why I hadn’t told anyone I cared about that I had been dating Chase. But that’s all they were. Excuses.
And all I had done was lie. Over and over again. To the people I loved. Sometimes by omission, sometimes deliberately.
Maybe this was karma trying to teach me a lesson about being dishonest with my best friend.
Chase was my boyfriend. There was no reason not to tell Lexi. Even if he did cheat on me with Amelia, and twenty-four hours from now we’d be broken up, it didn’t matter. I needed to tell her. Once Chase was home. Then I would bring him over and explain the whole thing to her. If he was sitting with me when it happened, hopefully that would lessen the chance of her leaping across the room and choking me for stealing her lifelong crush.
To make myself accountable, I sent Chase a text.
He had asked me on a couple of occasions why I hadn’t officially introduced him to my friends or my mom. He’d wanted me to meet his mom, but she was with Husband No. 9 in Zanzibar. Although I was thrilled he’d thought we were at the meet-the-family stage, I’d told him my concerns. That Lexi would be hurt. That my mom would freak out and go off the deep end. And I’d said, “You are the only thing that’s ever been just mine. If I tell them, then I have to share you. I like not having to share you.”
He’d kissed my temple. “That’s why I didn’t tell Helen and all of America about you.” Which made me feel worse that I’d been upset at him for denying he had someone special in his life in that interview.
Chase texted me back.
There. Now I had to do it. Because it was time to tell my loved ones about Chase.
I just hoped Lexi wouldn’t hate me.