Page 17 of Dream Girl Drama

His windpipe tightened because he knew what was coming. “Yeah?”

Several seconds of silence passed. “I know we only met tonight and maybe it’s premature or even... inappropriate to ask after everything that has happened.” She gripped the nylon of her seat belt with both hands. “But what does all of this mean for... us?”

Us.

The us that could have been.

The us they might very well never be.

What was the definition ofuswhen it came to them?

As much as it burned, Sig didn’t have an answer to that. He only knew he would die before jeopardizing Chloe’s future when he could never, not in a million years, offer her the same level of wealth. Hell, he felt sick taking her away from it rightnow. If he didn’t believe she truly wanted to experience life onher own terms, he wouldn’t have driven her an inch out of the driveway. But his father and Sofia were right, she could return to Darien at any time. Probably would. Who would leave this kind of dream existence forever?

Even if she could get used to a regular life...

She was on course to become his stepsibling.

Having her in Boston was going to be full-time murder on his sanity.

Yet having her three hundred miles away would be worse.

For now, all he could do was wait. Hope Sofia realized she was marrying a grifter. Hope she called off the wedding... and freed up Sig to pursue Chloe. Romantically.

In the meantime... “We’re going to be friends, Chlo.” He forced himself to grin at her, the muscles of his cheeks barely capable of executing the feat. “Best friends.”

They looked across the cab of the truck at each other with stark acknowledgment in their eyes, as if they’d both made it at the same moment, albeit very reluctantly. It couldn’t be.Theycouldn’t be. And then they both went back to staring out at the road, regret filling the air that separated them, Sig’s heart heavier than an anvil in his chest.

Chapter Four

One week later

Sig slowed to a stop and waited in the hallway, watching Chloe disappear into the apartment, the sound of her happily chatting with the Realtor echoing down the polished stairs. Golden sconces glinted on the walls. Piano music drifted down somewhere from the top floor. A woman pushed a noticeably expensive baby carriage into the lobby below and he watched both doors lock behind the woman soundly, securely, exactly as they would behind Chloe.

They’d looked at an apartment in a different part of town prior to this and there’d only been one door separating the lobby from the street. Not to mention, the apartment was on the ground floor. He’d all but carried a protesting Chloe out of there over his shoulder.

This was more like it.

He’d sleep at night with her in this place.

And it was going to cost him a fortune. On a monthly basis. Already, the five-star hotel he’d put her in since arriving in Boston would have been enough to buy him a new truck, but he’d loved picking her up out front, watching her emerge from the glittering lobby while a man in a starched uniform held the door open for her. Giving her that experience, that security, made him feel accomplished. Made his blood pump with purpose.

Doing mental math, Sig took two steps and tested the railing with a shake, making sure it didn’t wobble, then he entered the apartment behind the pair of women.

Two dead bolts on the door. Good.

Sig paused between the entrance and the living room, trying his best to see the sizable sunlit space, the high ceilings, the chef’s kitchen, the view of the North End neighborhood. But all he could see were the marble columns and cherubs and sweeping staircases of her home in Darien. This apartment was only a fraction of the size in comparison—

“Sig!” Chloe cried out from one of the bedrooms. “Come look!”

He went without thinking, wanting to see what got her so excited. When he found her in the master bedroom, she was pulling open a large drawer that appeared to be hinged to the wall. “What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a laundry chute,” answered the Realtor. “She’ll have a designated space in the basement where her clothes will compile until they’re ready to be washed. It’s an old-fashioned fixture, but one the residents love. It will save her from having to carry a heavy bag up and down the stairs from the basement.”

Basement?“There’s no washer-dryer in the apartment?”

“It’s a landmark building. There are certain plumbing restrictions.”

“Yeah, Chloe,” Sig said, shaking his head. “I don’t know...”

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