Page 24 of Chase

“Where the fuck have you been?” I snap at Russell, and his cheerfulness evaporates.

“Collecting your girlfriend from her work like you asked me to.”

“And it took you almost two hours to get here. Where have you been?” He pauses, and his expression tells me I’m not going to like the next words out of his mouth.

“A hotel,” he says with a smirk. “Trouble and I hired one of those rooms by the hour.” Samantha freezes at his words, paling as he wraps an arm around her. “I was the best you ever had, wasn’t I?”

His eyebrows raise, silently goading a reaction. I notice once again he’s using Trouble as an endearment toward her. Russell only names people he likes, and it’s clear he’s taken more than a liking to my girl.

“Russell, did your mother never tell you lying is bad?” Samantha says once she seems to regain some composure. “We went to a bar for a drink.”

“You were meant to come straight back here.”

Russell shrugs, and Samantha steps out of his embrace. She walks over to me, lifting her hand to my cheek. She looks at me with concern—her fingertips graze my skin tenderly. “I’m here now,” she says. “I’m sorry. We thought there was time.” She rises on tiptoe and presses soft lips to mine. “Let me make it up to you.” The sound of the door slamming within seconds once again signals Russell’s exit. We both turn to look, and he’s gone.

Samantha blinks up through dark lashes, her blue eyes sparkle under the light. She’s still dressed in her uniform with a heavy winter coat over the top. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Russell said we weren’t supposed to be here until seven-thirty.”

“I’m sure he did,” I mutter.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Russell has always been difficult. We’ve talked about this before.” I stop speaking, unsure about how much of my insecurities to divulge. “He likes to make life challenging for others.” She doesn’t say anything, but her body tenses under my touch. She bites her lip as if trying to stop herself from talking. “I got stuck at the office because he booked a meeting in my calendar. He knew I was planning to pick you up, and the jackass put a fly in the ointment.”

“Why would he do that?” she asks quietly. We look at each other for a beat, then her eyes drop away.

“He knew tonight was important, and as always, it all has to be about him.”

“I’m here now,” she says again. “And I’m here with you.”

“But for how long?”

Her face twists uneasily. We’ve skirted around the topic of what this is and where our relationship is going, but Samantha never wants to plan too far ahead. She tells me that every time something good happens, it gets blown to pieces by life. So, for now, she just wants to enjoy what we have and not put a label on it.

I like labels, and I like to know where I stand, but to have her I’m willing to wait. I just hope my waiting for her doesn’t ultimately mean I lose her to him.

***

Samantha

Connor’s eyes run over my face for what feels like the millionth time since I arrived minutes ago, as if in search of the truth. These past weeks with him have been some of the best of my life, and I hate to see him upset due to my actions.

“Listen, it was a misunderstanding,” I suggest, knowing full well it wasn’t. “I’m going to go and freshen up.” I rise on tiptoe to kiss him. He accepts my lips, but there isn’t the enthusiasm behind the act that normally exists. “I’ll be back in a moment,” I whisper, closing my eyes and willing the tears behind my lids not to fall. Connor is always so loving, but today there’s a wall between us, and deep down I know why.

I rush to his apartment, opening the door with the entry card he gave me last week. Once in the safety of his bedroom, I pull my phone out of my pocket and do something I haven’t done before. I text the unknown number in my contacts. The one I receive the odd complimentary texts from.

Did you do that deliberately?

What?

Delay me returning from work. Tell me that we didn’t need to be here until 7:30.

Yes.

Why?

Because I wanted to spend some time with you, Trouble. Watching you from afar isn’t always enough.

I stare at the answer on my screen. No excuses, no half-truths. I asked the question, and Russell answered me honestly. My phone beeps again, alerting me to a second message.

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