and figure out a way to pay him back.
My phone dinged from my bag, stashed under the seat in front of me, and I reached for it, remembering that I hadn’t yet switched it to airplane mode. Before I did, I opened my messages. There was a new text from Chase.
Food for thought, the text read. Sasha has hired and fired two assistants since you left. Seems like she can’t find anyone as amazing as you.
Ha. Maybe. Probably she just couldn’t find anyone as gullible as me.
“What is it?” Alex said.
I turned the phone so he could read Chase’s message. “From Chase,” I said.
Alex’s eyes passed over the phone, then he nodded. “Interesting. What do you think it means?”
I shrugged. “Probably nothing. It doesn’t really change our plans.”
“It does make you feel good though, right? You were good at your job. Apparently irreplaceable.”
I stashed my phone back in my bag and turned toward the window. Talking about Sasha, thinking about my time at LeFranc left me uneasy. It hadn’t been so hard in Charleston; I was removed enough that it had felt easier. Easier to breathe. Easier to forget. Now I was flying back to New York. To the city I’d dreamed of my entire life and then abandoned. I reminded myself that this trip wasn’t about me, which helped, but only a little.
I said a silent prayer that our luggage wouldn’t get lost somewhere between Charleston and La Guardia and took several deep breaths to try and settle my nerves. I generally loved flying. Was it Chase’s text that had me feeling so off-kilter?
Alex shifted next to me, brushing up against my arm. I leaned into him, almost involuntarily, but then retreated back to the window. What was I doing? No, Chase’s text wasn’t the only thing messing with my head. Chase. Sasha. New York. Red Renegade. Alex. Paige. I leaned my head against the cool windowpane and closed my eyes. I was just shy of a complete mess.
The past week and a half leading up to the Compassion Experiment had been fraught with more tension and awkwardness than I’d ever experienced before. Alex had been polite, gentle, perfectly respectful. But it had almost made things worse. He was acting on the assumption that I had stopped the kiss and sent him away because I didn’t want him. Which was the furthest thing from the truth. It had taken every ounce of my willpower not to scoot over and pull him right down beside me.
But wanting him physically wasn’t the same thing as needing him. And as sure as I was that we still had chemistry, that I still cared about him, maybe even still loved him, I was too afraid to talk about it, too afraid of what loving him meant. Alex had made it clear he liked the Charleston version of himself much more than the New York version—that he’d never loved his life in the city.
If I decided to go back to New York, to find a new job, would he go with me? Or would loving him mean giving it up? The flicker of a dream I’d imagined once before passed through my mind—a Charleston version of my future self that had stirred so much longing. I looked over at Alex, wishing I had the courage to take his hand, admit what I was feeling, admit how terrifying it all was.
There were still too many questions, too many uncertainties tainting every one of my thoughts. I couldn’t make sense of anything without immediately second-guessing my certainty and starting the whole vicious cycle of doubt all over again.
Of course, I couldn’t overlook Alex’s motives.
Darius had suggested that Alex was helping me get Paige’s dress back because he still cared about me. But Alex’s relationship with the LeFrancs was even more complex than his relationship with me. His need to prove to Alicio that he’d been right about Sasha all along was intense, too intense to assume this entire shenanigan was only a grand gesture of love. It had never been that simple.
I had to wait.
Get through the wedding.
See where everything fell after, well, after everything.
The venue was a large warehouse space in Brooklyn, with tall ceilings and huge windows and a great view of the Statue of Liberty. The decorations felt like Christmas, but not in the cheesy Hallmark movie kind of way. No poinsettia. No mistletoe or fake fireplaces. Instead, it was a little more modern, a little more dressed down.
The Christmas trees lining the