Page 85 of Secondhand Secrets

A giant floral arrangement met her at the counter, the bouquet circled by a multitude of violet “Purple Rain” cocktails. Emilia’s nod to her love of Prince, an icon in her new home of Minnesota.

Even though the spirits in Ally’s newly acquired martini glass smelled a little like jet fuel, the rock sugar around the rim offered a pretty and sweeter balance. She knocked back her first long sip, and a wave of sharp citrus juice and bitter spirits hit her tongue.

Not bad. Not bad at all. She kept her back to wherever she assumed Chip lingered and set to musing at her glass and the surprisingly palatable drink inside.

While she vowed to finish at least three before making her excuses to leave, an abrasive memory took over. Her hiding inside a toilet stall, slamming down drinks to distract from her cowardice and pain. Surely she’d progressed since then.

She could choose one of three options now. Keep drinking. Leave. Or buck up and face Chip with her thoughts. But because she hadn’t changed that much, she took one last swig of liquid courage before putting down her glass on the counter and marching to where he sat at her table.

“Time to talk.” She planted her hands to her hips and tried hard to maintain her newfound maturity through an even tone. “Are you here for the wedding, or are you here to see me?”

His uplifted gaze did nothing to shift the forward roll of his shoulders, and his expression’s quick fall prompted an involuntary flutter of her heart.

“One brought me here more than the other.” His pause, paired with the sweep of his gaze over her face, hinted at caution and the need to gauge her response. “Though I have an entire other reason for being in town too.”

She stared at him a while, maybe just a little sad to hear she wasn’t the only reason he was here, even though she shouldn’t have cared. This being her first proper breakup, she wasn’t sure what rules applied, although her focus dropped to the empty chair beside him. Her chair. Making it immediately clear that she did care.

So, what now? Did she sit down and stew in the awkward silence, allowing him to get on with his life? Just while away this day until they parted ways again?

Screw that!

Not content to leave room for regrets, she flicked her hair from her eyes and set her mind to a direct approach. “What other reasons?”

“Ally”—the long and husky draw of her name on his voice tugged once more at her heart—“my other reason is that I like this place, and I’m staying.”

A hard gasp filled her lungs, and she stared blankly ahead, the world around her seeming to freeze, her only redemption being that she’d ditched her drink at the bar, saving her from dropping her glass now.

“But, why?” She stumbled back a little, and he jumped to his feet, catching her wrists like he didn’t trust her to remain upright.

Maybe his actions were justified, but the jolt of electricity moving from his hands to her brought a familiar tingle to her body, and the shock of that alone had her shaking him off her. “Please. Don’t.”

His touch, plus the knowledge that she’d get no escape from him after today, left her heartbroken. Just heartbroken. A life in Harlow wasn’t what she wanted for him. Or her.

He had too much potential for this little place. And thanks to the Syndicate, he’d be stepping back into a world of danger. Then there was her knowing that his presence here had at least a little something to do with her. That she’d have to see him day-in day-out and know that she loved him but couldn’t have him.

Tears pricked her eyes, and she pushed right past, his close proximity already too much. So much for maturity. All she could think about was escaping. A hard task given she’d driven Laila here and didn’t want to ditch her sister and niece. So now, all Ally had was her hurried steps to the river’s edge, and the tiny hope that Chip would not follow.

Forty-Two

“Ally!”

Chip’s voice trailed Ally’s brisk escape to her new refuge beneath the sweeping, green vines of a giant willow, the labor of each breath causing her to stop and catch herself mid-cowardly escape.

She rounded on him, hot tears already running down her face.

“You can’t stay.” She swiped at her cheeks, swearing under her breath at her overwrought reaction. Of course, she’d fantasized about seeing him again, but she hadn’t imagined doing so while looking like a half-drowned river monster. “You can’t stay in Harlow.”

She wanted to push him away, but he stood out of reach, both hands jammed into his pockets. “This is my home too.”

“No.” Her voice shot out, ragged and pitchy, though some internal monologue screamed at her to get her act together. “Boston is your home. You left here. Ten years ago. This is my home, and you’re not allowed to ruin it for me.”

His chin jerked back a little, like the word “ruin” truly hurt him. His attention fell to the ground so that locks of rose-gold hair tumbled over his brow, that crestfallen image of him beautiful and heart-wrenching.

“I’m staying, Ally.” He offered a firmer tone, his gaze hitting her again, though with a steeliness she’d never before witnessed on him. “Regardless of how you feel about me. I’m staying.”

As much as she tried to open her mouth in protest, his intimidating and resolute stare turned her heart’s earlier flutter into a thundering gallop.

To make this situation worse, he pulled his hands from his pockets and strode closer. Again, she sought to back away. But again, she did nothing.

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