He grinned with a shake of his head. “How’d two non-snobs end up at a Lorelei event? You two were the only ones smiling and laughing.”
That’s usually how it was. Ethan and I could have fun anywhere. It was the main reason I’d started falling for him. Not that being six-foot-sex hurt.
“My friend got tickets from a buddy.” And won a one-way ticket into my pants. “I wouldn’t go again. Too stuffy.”
“You grew up with that crowd though, right?” he asked.
I shook my head, unsure where he gleaned that tidbit from. We hadn’t talked about my upbringing. At least not that I could remember. “I don’t think anyone grows up with the Lorelei.”
He laughed again, a deep, croaky laugh that reminded me of Dad after one too many cocktails. “Very true. What about your buddy?”
“Nope. Just another regular Joe like me.” A regular Joe that flew around the world but still a regular person. He might have liked expensive booze, but he didn’t have a stuck-up bone in his body.
He pushed the wad of sprouts around in his broth like a boat. One that was taking on water rapidly. “Have you known each other long?”
Oh no. Was he trying to figure out what Ethan and I were? Dear God, don’t ask me out. Don’t make it awkward. “Two years.”
He sunk his sprout boat entirely, both of us watching his soup-bowl massacre. “What’s he do for a living? In grad school, too?”
“Something in tech,” I replied. “It sounds stupid, but I’m not a hundred-percent what. Maybe development? He’s really good with computers.”
He brought the boat back to life, the sprout block still soaked with the salty brine and barely staying afloat. “Ah. A details guy?”
“Something like that.” Ethan was the details guy. Even his details had details, all that he perfectly ordered for maximum efficiency.
Every detail except one pesky little one.
Me.
Ethan
City living wasn’t for everyone, and after ten years, I was fairly certain it wasn’t for me either. Having nearly everything I needed within walking distance was convenient, but it came with a heavy hand of fishbowl effect.
Boston was feeling increasingly smaller, the squeeze of the press narrowing its borders. But I wouldn’t shut myself away in the penthouse. Hiding would only make it worse. It would lead to mistakes. Mistakes like winding up on the front page of the paper with my arm around the daughter of socialites.
Now people weren’t just foaming at the mouth to unmask Ever; they wanted to learn more about me, the mystery man with Keely Doyle, Boston’s former child darling. A quick phone call could clear it up, but that invited questions and digging, two things I couldn’t allow.
I continued along the waterfront, hoping the roll of the waves would calm my nerves, frayed from days of turmoil. It’d been almost a week since I left Kee, ignoring her calls and texts as they trickled in. It was cowardly, but it was necessary. I couldn’t use my go-to move of lashing out for space, but I also couldn’t continue down the path we were on.
I loved her. It was as certain as the ground beneath my feet, a constant reality I couldn’t contain. And to love her, I had to let her go. Maybe in a few months I could check in, but there would always have to be a wall there. It was the only way she would be happy.
Fireworks boomed sporadically in the distance, the last celebrations of Labor Day Weekend winding down. Once the new day came, it was back to usual, bodies hustling into work while little ones faced their first day back at school.
For me, it brought adventure. My red-eye flight left at nearly midnight, a ticket to London giving me a few weeks abroad to sift through the emotional wreckage and get my shit together. In the time away, the interest in me and Ever would die down, and everything could go back to normal. A new normal, but I’d learn to adapt.
The breeze off the water was a welcome relief, the night air too sticky to be comfortable for jogging, my t-shirt clinging to my chest. It also disbanded the heavy scent of dirt in the air, nearby construction sites piled high with soil as they carved out homes for new high-rises, much like the one I lived in.
It was another sign that my time there was coming to an end. More buildings brought more people. More eyes to dodge. More chances to slip. It felt like life was forcing me into a corner, payback for the incredible streak of luck so far. I could either have happiness or anonymity, but I couldn’t have both.
The time abroad would usher in clear thinking, a few weeks away from the canvas hopefully bringing it all into focus. I needed to think of where I’d go next, how I’d keep the fire stoked. It wouldn’t be easy, especially since Kee likely never wanted to see my face again after pulling a literal pump and dump.
My chest ached at the thought, so much so that I had to slow from a steady jog to a walk. It was then that I heard the footsteps. Ones I hadn’t been able to hear over my own heartbeat before.
I turned, seeing nothing, but certain someone was following me. It was after midnight, and no one was out on the stretch of walkway around the luxury buildings. I knew because I’d ran around it at least a dozen times so far that night. Every hair on my body stood up as I continued walking, the footsteps picking up as well.
I made the sudden choice to run rather than fight, not willing to risk injury or exposure over a potential mugger. If they wanted to hurt me, they’d have to catch me. So I did just that, hauling ass down the path toward my building, knowing the average robber wouldn’t be able to catch up. I ran for at least
