“You okay, Scar? You want to call the cops and report the Chadwick incident? Just because Chad had a key doesn’t mean he had any right to use it to get in. Maybe they can shake him down and freak him out enough that he’ll leave you alone.”
Kelsey’s concern yanks me back to the present and away from thoughts of Legend, which I much prefer over thinking about Chadwick.
I wander to the counter and my Nespresso machine to make some coffee to help clear my racing thoughts. As soon as the shot of espresso is brewing, I shake my head and reply.
“I don’t think it’s worth bothering the cops with. Chadwick will just say he was returning his key, and there will be literally nothing they can do about it. I can’t even really argue trespassing becauseI gave him the key.”
“True. But, still.” Kelsey spins around in a slow circle. “I hate the thought that he touched even one thing in your apartment. What if he was a total creeper and stole your underwear or something?”
My gag reflex kicks in as I run to the bedroom and pull open the drawers of my lingerie chest.
Everything looks perfectly in place, including the lavender bustier I bought the other day when I saw it in a shop window. Not that Chadwick ever saw any of that lingerie on me. I think I knew, deep down, that he wasn’t worth the effort. He was just an easy way to get closer to my dad.
Shit. My dad.
I shut the drawers and walk back out to the kitchen-living room area where Kelsey has taken over manning the coffeemaker. She hands me a demitasse cup before stirring sugar into hers.
“What am I going to do about my dad? How am I going to tell him? Do you think Chadwick already has?”
The possibility of losing the frayed thread of connection we have totally sucks.
“Oh, honey,” Kelsey says as she slides her saucer onto the table and pulls out a chair. “I’m so sorry your dad is wrapped up in the Chadwick stuff too. I know that’s why you wanted it to work. But, eventually, you’re just going to have to find your own common ground with him.”
I take a sip of the rich, steaming brew. “I wish it was that easy.”
“Me too, babe. Me too.”
Together, we sit in silence for a few minutes, and I suck down the caffeine needed to shock my system back to normal. It’s been years since I’ve stayed out that late, drinking and dancing and generally having an amazing night.
I danced with Legend.
My mind goes right back to the text. If I open it, I have to decide how to reply. Or if I’m going to reply. Except, who am I kidding? I’m going to reply. I can’t resist. His pull is too strong.
I’m barely able to hold out thirty seconds after I hug Kelsey and she leaves my apartment. I wrap a plush robe over my pajamas and drop into a teal velvet armchair before I unearth the phone from my pocket.
On the screen, I read the message again before typing in my pass code and unlocking my phone. I tap on the text bubble and ...
What in the actual fuck?
This wasn’t just an impromptu text from him.
There’s one from meto himfirst.
You were hard as a rock. Don’t tell me you don’t want me, because I know the truth. The real question is—are you man enough to do something about it?
What. The. Hell.
I didn’t type that. Never in a million years would I have sent that message to the man.But someone did—using my phone.
The time stamp says 3:04 a.m., which means that ... we had to be at Dolly’s Diner. Which means one of my friends did it. Our phones were in a pile on the table. Easy access.
There’s no way in hell it was Kelsey. She’d never ...
Which leaves Monroe or Harlow.
Goddammit.
No longer am I thinking about how I’m going to reply. Now I’m thinking about who I need to kill—or thank?