Page 64 of Giving Chase

My office door bursts open again. Will strides in, hand already out. "Pay up, Avery. Eighteen years of interest on that bet."

Chase pulls out his wallet, grumbling. "You know, technically the bet was that I'd never tell her how I felt in public. The Grammy kiss should have counted."

"The Grammy kiss was a drunken impulse that you both played off as theatrical," Will counters. "This was a sober confession of twenty years of love. Very different thing."

"He's got you there," I agree.

Chase hands over what looks like several hundred dollars, then points at Will. "You knew. When I made that bet, you knew this would happen eventually."

"Course I did." Will pockets the money with a grin. "Who do you think's been listening to both of you pine for each other for two decades?"

My phone rings again. The board chairman's number.

"Want me to answer it?" Michelle offers.

I look at Chase, still arguing with Will about the terms of their ancient bet. At Michelle, fiercely protective and obviously delighted. At my screen filling with messages of support from industry friends who've watched our saga play out for years.

"No," I decide. "Let it go to voicemail. I'm busy having a personal life."

Chase's head whips around, his smile brilliant. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I stand, gathering my things. "In fact, I think I'm done for the day. The industry can wait until tomorrow to hear how we're going to 'handle' this."

"Ms. Kerr," he says, all fake scandal. "Are you playing hooky?"

"Mr. Avery," I match his tone, "I believe I am. Any objections?"

He's already reaching for his jacket. Will and Michelle exchange knowing looks.

"I'll handle the board," Michelle says. "You two... handle whatever this is."

"Twenty years of foreplay?" Will suggests.

"Out," I point at the door. "Both of you."

Their laughter follows us down the hall. Chase's hand finds mine as we wait for the elevator.

"You sure about this?" he asks softly. "Leaving the chaos for them to handle?"

I watch our joined reflection in the elevator doors like I always have, but now it’s different. It’s out in the open. "The chaos will still be there tomorrow. Right now..." I squeeze his hand. "Right now I just want to be us."

His smile is better than any headline.

"Us," he repeats. "I like the sound of that."

The elevator arrives with a soft ding. We step in together, leaving the industry explosion behind us.

Sacred Place

CHASE

Rocket Mortgage FieldHousein Cleveland smells like new paint and old dreams. The massive space echoes with sound check chatter, guitar tuning, drum tests. Familiar voices in an unfamiliar setting.

"This transition's still rough," Jake Townsend says, running a hand over his tied-back blonde hair. His eyes dart between his notes and the exits – classic Jake, always mapping escape routes.

"We'll get it," Ryan Crawford answers with that easy smile that's made him Indigo King's famous frontman. "The key change fromOff the RecordintoBurning Bridgesis tricky, but?—"

"But worth it," Will cuts in. "You should have heard Chase try to sing it the first time around. At least you guys are sober for the attempt."

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