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“Give me a hand?”
I look up to see Chase standing a few feet away juggling take-out boxes and beers.
“Sure,” I say, closing the picture on my phone before tossing it onto the table. Standing, I take the beers and one of the boxes. I sit back down while he rounds the table to take the chair across from me.
Whatever’s in this box smells delicious. I open it and instantly feel my stomach bulge. “Geez, did you enter us into an eating contest of some sort?”
“I suppose I should tell you before we set the wedding date,” Chase says, opening his own container to stare lovingly at the food in front of him. “I’m a food truck junkie.” He gives me a sad shrug while pulling his fork from its plastic sleeve. “Don’t ask me to choose.”
I laugh around the beer bottle I have pressed to my mouth. “I knew you were too good to be true,” I tease back but my heart’s not in it.
“Everything okay with your roommate?” he says, lifting a taco from the heap of food in front of him and biting it nearly in half.
“What?” I say, sinking my fork into what looks like a tamale. “Oh—yeah. It wasn’t Patrick. It was my friend, Tess.” I swear to God I sound disappointed. “Guy trouble.”
He shakes his head at me, his face scrunched up in disgust. “Fucking guys.”
Why does he have to be perfect?
Because God hates me, that’s why.
“I know, right?” I take a bite, because I don’t want to talk about it anymore. As soon as the tamale hits my tongue, I swear my eyes roll back in my head. “Is this heaven?”
Chase grins at me over the taco he’s inhaling. “Welcome to paradise, Ms. Faraday.”
Thirty-three
Cari
After eating our weight in tacos and tamales, Chase and I walk—making me wish I opted for a pair of low wedge sandals instead of heels—and while we walk, we talk.
“What’s your plan, Faraday?” he asks, taking me by the elbow to pull me away from a questionable pile of something on the sidewalk in front of us. “You can’t want to work for Miranda for the rest of your life.”
“I like Miranda,” I tell him, shrugging because the subject makes me uncomfortable. “She’s a great boss.”
“I like Mandy too,” he says, leading me around a corner, down what looks like an alley. For the first time since we started walking, it occurs to me that we aren’t just wandering aimlessly. He’s taking me somewhere. “But you’re not a secretary.” He shrugs and smiles like he’s figured everything out. “So, what’s your plan?”
“I’ve never heard anyone call her Mandy before.” I laugh. “It sounds weird.”
“Mandy and I’ve known each other since we were kids.” Chase shrugs, but I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “And you’re avoiding the question.”
He’s right, I am. Why? It’s not like what I want to do with my life is some sort of secret. “I want to own my own gallery someday,” I tell him, my tone firm and sure. “I want to help artists get discovered.”
He gives me an odd look. Like he thinks I’m full of shit. “I thought you were a painter.”
“Now you sound like Patrick,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told him a million times—it’s just a hobby.” I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not good enough to make a real go of it.”
Chase stops walking. “Who says?”
Now he really sounds like Patrick. “Where are you taking me?” I dodge the question because over the past few months, the things I want have started to change and to be honest, that scares me a little. “Are you the kind of guy who plies girls with tacos and beer and then axe murders them in a dark alley?”
He lets it go and starts walking again. “Seriously?” he laughs at me, leading me farther down the alley, a light at the end of it growing brighter the closer we get. “I would never axe murder the future mother of my children.”
I point a finger at him and laugh. “But you do axe murder girls—that’s what I’m hearing here.”
“What can I say?” He smiles. “The tacos and beer slows ‘em down.” Laughing, he keeps walking, pulling me along in his wake. “So, how long has it been?” he says, shooting me a knowing smile.
“How long has what been?” We’re close enough to the end of the alley that I can see people standing in line, waiting behind a red velvet rope. “Where are you taking me?”