Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,118
through the hair at the nape of my neck, massaging with rough fingers. We’re quiet, for a while.
“You’re not wearing your necklace.” His words, spoken in a soft voice, still send a jolt through me. “I’ve never seen you take it off, before.”
I don’t say a word, but I can feel my body radiating tension.
“Gemma?”
I swallow. “It’s… something Phoebe said.”
He waits.
“She said she has one just like it,” I whisper. “A gift from her father.”
“Sunshine…”
“Which means… There’s a pretty good chance my mother has been lying to me about him for years.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do.” I push up to look at him. “She said he never tried to contact me. Never sent a card, never sent a letter. Nothing. Only a check, in the beginning, before he realized she wasn’t going to take his money and get rid of me.” I clear my throat, hoping it’ll dislodge the emotion forming a lump there. “But if that’s true, why would he give me a necklace? The same one he gave his own daughter, years ago? Why would he do that, unless…”
The lump expands, blocking my airway and cutting off my words.
“Unless he wanted to be a part of your life.” Chase finishes for me, when he sees I’m too choked up to form words. I drop my head back to his chest and let him stroke my hair, let him murmur quiet assurances that it’ll be okay, that we’ll figure it out, against the crown of my head. And, for a little while, I let myself believe him.
“Have you considered getting in contact with him?” he asks, some time later.
My body goes tight at just the thought.
“I could get in touch easily,” Chase continues. “We’ve done business with West Tech in the past. It wouldn’t take more than a phone call, if you’re open to—”
“No.” My voice is flat. “I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to talk to him. Not now… not ever.”
Chase pauses, processing the chill in my words, the rigidity of my frame.
“Okay, sunshine,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. “Okay.”
It takes a while, but eventually I fall asleep in the circle of his arms.
***
The sound of loud, booted footsteps clomping against hardwood stirs me awake. My eyes blink open and I see it’s midmorning, maybe near noon, if the bright sunlight pouring through the balcony windows is any indication. I’m alone in bed and this time there’s no note on Chase’s empty pillow.
Hearing hushed, unfamiliar voices drifting from the main room, I reach over the edge of the bed and grab his rumpled t-shirt off the floor. I glance around for the shopping bags Shelby delivered before the gala, but they aren’t on the armchair, where I left them. A squirmy feeling stirs in my stomach as I follow my instincts across the room, into the walk-in closet where Chase keeps his clothes.
Sure enough, folded neatly on the shelves to my left, are four pairs of jeans. My gala dress is hanging neatly in a garment bag, next to a colorful array of blouses and tops that Shelby purchased. Grumbling under my breath about bossy, presumptuous billionaires, who charge ahead into new territory without even thinking about asking for permission, I snatch a pair of jeans off the top of the stack and stuff my legs into them. As I pull on a bra and do up the buttons of what I must admit is a very pretty top, I think of the many, many things I’m going to say to Chase when I find him. Big things. Possibly loud things, at the top of my lungs.
At which point, he’d better explain it was all an accident, that his housekeeper put my things in his closet without checking with him.
Because, seriously, if he moved me into his apartment without so much as a conversation…
I’ll have to kill him.
When I’m dressed, I pop into the bathroom to take care of business, shriek at the scary state of my waves — hello, sex hair — and brush my teeth as fast as possible. Rubbing at my bleary eyes, I head into the kitchen, fully expecting to find Chase talking to Evan or Knox — or even Shelby, if she’s in a particularly persistent mood.
I do not expect to find three hulking men in GALIZIA MOVING CO. shirts lugging boxes out of the elevator and depositing them along the wall on the far side of the loft.