Page 79 of The Spy Who Ghosted Me

“Well, cheerio, good luck to you. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.” She walked off, laughing.

I didn’t like the sound of her laugh nor the thought of her being in touch, but I’d made my bed with SPI and I knew they would never let me completely sever ties. But I would be damned if they ever tried to make me cut ties with Sabrina again. Only she would have that power. The big question now was if she still wanted me.

Sabrina

“MY FEET ARE KILLING ME,” I complained to Mia at the cake serving table. “Do you mind if I take ten in the lobby?” We were catering a holiday-themed black-tie wedding at the White Pine Ballroom. We’d pulled out all the stops—everything from personalized sugar cookies for each guest to the sparkling white seven-tiered wedding cake.

“Of course not. Go. We’ll switch off.”

“You’re the best.” I walked off delicately in my heels. The bride was very persnickety about what everyone wore, even the hired help, as she called us. She was more of a Bridezilla than Lexi had been, which was saying something. It also meant I was wearing three-inch heels and a black silk gown.

As soon as I stepped into the lobby, I slipped out of my shoes and hid behind a large flocked Christmas tree decorated in gold. It shimmered so brightly I felt the need for sunglasses. But it also made me feel a little homesick. Mama loved her Christmas trees, and I knew the resort would be all lit up with lights and the lodge would have dozens of decorated Christmas trees throughout.

After everything we’d been through the last couple of months, Daddy made me promise to come home for Christmas. I wouldn’t miss it. Mia was going to get the best Christmas present ever—Drew and I had been planning the big proposal for the last month. It was all going down on Christmas in ten days.

I was so excited for her. I was just so glad one of us was getting our happy ending.

A long sigh escaped my lips as I played with the necklace that Cash had given me and stared at my reflection in one of the ridiculously large gold bulbs on the tree. Seriously, it was bigger than my head. I had to wonder if I was more ridiculous than the ornament for holding out any hope that Cash would return to me. It had been two months and I’d heard nothing. Except Ivy had sent me a text message once that said, Are you ready to give up, love? I didn’t respond because I wasn’t sure what to say and it was creepy she had my number. Besides, I got the impression that she loved to taunt people, and I think ignoring her probably said more to her than replying.

Despite his absence, I would look at the photo of Cash and me every night, and somewhere deep inside I would feel this pulse to keep holding out hope. All the while, I was coming up with a tragic story of how Cash died while in quarantine. Nana swore all he needed to do was mainline Coke. She said it would kill any parasite. She was going to be quite distraught to learn of Cash’s demise. But it would devastate no one more than me. Especially since I would know the actual truth—he didn’t want me.

When my ten minutes were almost up and I was dreading putting my shoes back on, the most debonair voice whispered behind me, doing his best James Bond impression. “Hello, I’m Jones—Brett Jones.”

I spun around so fast and hard, Cash had to steady me. I blinked a million times at him in a tux, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. If they were, it was the most gorgeous trick of all time. Cash looked absolutely dashing. I especially loved how his hair had grown out some and had more strands of gray in it. It made him look quite distinguished. But then I remembered I’d heard nothing from him in the last two months.

“Brett Jones? Is that your new alias? It’s a little boring,” I grumbled, even though I wanted nothing more than to kiss his lips.

Cash leaned in with a mischievous grin, giving me a big whiff of his delectable spiced vanilla scent that went perfectly with the smell of the pine Christmas tree. “Brett Jones is actually my real name.”

“Oh.” Did that mean what I thought it meant? Was his life his own again? “Well, Brett Jones. I’m not sure what you’re doing here, but just so you know, I don’t date spies.” I’d learned my lesson. A sexy lesson, but a vital lesson, nonetheless.

He chuckled and pulled me right to him, flush against his fantastic body.

My hands fell onto his chest and my fingers dug in, missing the feel of his taut muscles.

Cash or Brett or whoever he was smiled at me. “Do you date business analysts?”

“Hmm.” I thought. “I don’t know. What does a business analyst do?”

“He loves you.”

All those chemicals he was so good at mixing came out to play, making my insides do the happiest of dances. “Huh. Sounds like a solid career choice.”

“Does it now.” He leaned in until our noses rubbed against each other.

I wanted a taste of him so badly, but I had to know, “What kind of hours does a business analyst keep?” I couldn’t have him running off all over the world, never knowing if he’d come back or not.

Cash or Brett, love of my life, was impatient and nipped at my lower lip, giving me just a tiny taste of him. “I was thinking of loving you twenty-four seven. Does that work?”

I didn’t even need to think about that. “Uh, yeah.” I could barely breathe out, hardly believing this was happening. Did I really get to keep him?

“Good. I’d like to start now, assuming the position is still available.”

I grabbed his lapels with both of my hands, and I pulled him right to my lips. “You’re hired.”

Best ending to a ghost story ever.

Cash

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