Page 78 of Chemistry: The Chemist

“I’ll see you later, Choc.”

Goodbye, Chem. The finality of the moment gutted me.

Words felt too much like torture, so I saved them, headed toward the entry of my lofts, and started for the elevator. My world was crashing around me. I was completely shattered while simultaneously disappointed.

The second he’d revealed his hand and participated in criminal activity with my knowledge, he was supposed to be reported to the agency. Things would’ve never gotten this far.

But they have.

I pushed the button for the elevator, sick to my core at what I was leaving on the table. Chem wasn’t perfect, but he was the very first person in the world I truly believed was mine. Mine to have. Mine to hold. Mine to love. Mine to live with until my dying day.

I finally exhaled as I stepped onto the elevator, allowing the bottled-up emotions to come tumbling down. I covered my mouth with a hand to prevent the whimpers from spilling into the lobby.

My heart broke one thousand and twelve times for one hundred and twelve reasons. And just before the door of the elevator closed, the number one reason stood in front of me with a stretched arm and anguished eyes.

“You trying to make a nigga say fuck it–”

“Chem–”

“Whatever is happening right now, I don’t like it, Choc.”

Me either.

“Why the tears?”

I gnawed the inside of my lip, drawing blood as I chose my words carefully.

“I asked a question,” he reminded me.

Shifting my weight from one side to the other, I prepared to share things with him that were meant to remain private.

I’m an agent, Chem, hired to bring down your entire empire. Last night, at dinner, more was revealed about the case than we’ve been able to find in years. The women I’ve learned are your sisters, they’re all wanted. You’re wanted. You’re the most sophisticated case we have right now. Almost everyone has been pushed aside for your capture.

I’m not at Roulette because I want to show my ass every weekend. I’m there because my career depends on it. We’ve been hunting you for so fucking long, baby. Obsessing over you. I understand why. You’re as clever as we anticipated. You’re smart. You’re charming. You’re calculated. You’re everything we knew you’d be. Everything The Grey List is.

My God. This is all so fucked up. And… and… my name isn’t Eden, for crying out loud. It’s Egypt. Please call me Egypt.

“Eden.”

“I thi– I think I’m falling in love,” I admitted, choosing my battle wisely.

His posture slacked, something that wasn’t witnessed often. The elevator began to buzz, letting us know the doors had grown tired of being parted. Neither of us bothered to adjust our stance.

“Is that what I’m feeling?” He breathed out, running a hand through his facial hair as he looked around, finally relieved to have an understanding of what was happening.

I nodded. “Yes.”

He rushed into the elevator, pressing his palms against my cheeks. “Then what’s with the sadness?”

Seconds passed as we stared back at each other. The doors finally sealed.

“Answer me.”

“You feel so– incapable.”

The confession coiled my stomach. Vomit threatened to spill. I waited for him to tell me I was wrong. I waited for him to demand I take my words back, but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded, keeping my face between his hands.

“I am, Eden. I am incapable. Probably undeserving, too, but–” he explained, pressing his forehead against mine before continuing. “Dammit, I’m not impossible. This is not impossible. We’re not impossible. I have a fucking heart. And that motherfucker beats every time I think of you, see you, hear you, feel you…”

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