Page 58

He ignored my last question and answered the first. “How long have you been in love with your roommate?”
I almost choke, inhaling hard enough that air got stuck in my lungs. Coughing, I cleared my throat. “What?” I shake my head hard, hand pressed to my chest. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m not in love in love with Patrick.”
Chase gives me a long, sideways look—one that make me feel odd. Open. Like he can see things inside me that I can’t. Then he shrugs and smiles. “Sorry, my mistake,” he says, stopping a few yards from the entrance of what looks like a dilapidated warehouse.
The door is open and I can see movement inside. People in fancy clothes, walking the perimeter of the space. Splashes of color decorate the walls, illuminated by strategically placed lighting, waiters with trays of champagne weaving through the crowd. He fed me tacos and brought me to a gallery opening. “No,” I say, slumping against the wall. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to snap at you. Things between Patrick and I are complicated right now.”
“When I saw the way he was looking at you yesterday, I knew he was crazy about you,” he explained, leaning against the wall beside me. “I assumed the feeling was mutual.”
Crazy. I can’t think of a better word to describe the way Patrick and I have been behaving these past 24-hours. “I never noticed.”
Chase opens his mouth to say something but before he can get a word out, someone interrupts him.
“Cari?”
The sound of his voice stiffens my spine and I turn to see James standing on the pavement a few yards away, a beautiful blonde draped over his arm. She looks vapid. Dim. Like an expensive, beautifully dressed pet, waiting for her commands.
That used to be me. That’s what people see when they look at me.
I feel my stomach twist and it must show on my face because Chase steps closer, blocking my view of James and his date. “Are you okay?” he says, eyebrows lowered, jaw suddenly tight.
“I’m fine,” I say with a smile because there’s no way in hell I’m going to cause a scene. Not here. Not one that involves Chase. I angle myself around him to find James closer that before. “Hello, James.”
James says hi.
The idea that he followed me here pops into my head. But that’s crazy, right? It’s been months since we broke up and I haven’t heard a single word from him. As crazy as it is, I nearly cry with relief when I feel Chase slip an arm around my waist, pulling me close. He doesn’t know what’s going on but whatever it is, he’s not going to let me handle it alone.
“I thought that was you…” James eyes flick over Chase’s hand on my waist and he smirks for a second before aiming a smile at me. “It’s nice to see you again.”
I don’t say anything. Instead I give the blonde on his arm a polite smile. “I’m Cari,” I say, offering her a hand.
“Mimi,” she purrs, slipping a limp hand into mine while giving Chase a long look. “Hello, Chase.”
Chase’s hand tightens on my waist. “Mimi,” he says before focusing his attention on James. “If you’ll excuse us, Cari and I were in the middle of a private conversation. Perhaps we’ll see you inside.”
I have to roll my lips over my teeth to keep from laughing out loud. James looks like Chase just took a shit on his shoes. Before he can say anything, Chase uses the hand on my waist to usher me away.
“Ex-boyfriend?” He says softly, leading me toward the open door where a large man in a tuxedo is checking names against the list on his clipboard.
“Unfortunately.” I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to see James watching us. The look on his face tells me his being here is not an accident. “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Fuck no.” Chase laughs out loud this time. “Despite her best efforts… she’s just a model. I’ve used her a few times.”
I want to ask what used means but I don’t. It’s none of my business and I don’t really care.
He stops us in front of the man at the door. “See the blonde in blue and the shifty-looking shit with her?”
The man flicks a glance over Chase’s shoulder, watching as James and his date que up in line. “Yes, sir.”
“They don’t get in.” Chase taps a finger on the man’s clipboard. “I don’t give a shit what that thing says.”
The man gives him a conspirator smirk. “Yes, sir.”
Chase claps a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Thanks, Emilio.” He grins at me, slipping his hand off my waist to offer me his arm. “Great—now that that’s over with, let’s go drink champagne and look at some shitty, over-priced art.”
I take his arm, looking around while I shake my head. “You can’t say things like that,” I whisper. “Someone will hear you.”
“Who cares?” He laughs at me, pulling me through the door, totally circumventing the line of people waiting to get in. “And I can say anything I want—it’s my shitty, over-priced art we’re gonna look at.”