Not You It's Me (Boston Love #1) - Julie Johnson Page 0,121

all those silly, shortsighted thoughts go right out of my head.

Because he’s not alone.

There’s a man, sitting in the seat across from him.

A man I recognize instantly — probably because I look just like him.

Milo West.

***

“Gemma,” the man says, as soon as he sees me, surprise on his face and sadness in his tone.

“Gemma,” Chase says, rising to his feet, concern in his voice and apology in his eyes.

Me, well, I don’t say anything.

I just turn on one heel and race for the elevator at the end of the hall.

“Gemma! Gemma, wait!”

I hear Chase calling me, but I don’t stop until I hit the elevator banks, flying past a startled Anita at the front desk without so much as a word. I jam my finger into the call button over and over, cursing its slowness.

“Gemma.”

Chase’s voice, winded from running, is close. I know he’s standing right behind me. My body tenses like a sprinter on the blocks, waiting for the gunshot. I don’t turn to face him. I don’t move a single muscle except for my finger, which repeatedly jabs at the call button.

“Sunshine—”

“Don’t.”

“If you’d just listen—”

“I said don’t.” My voice is scathing, shredded with anger and disbelief. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, right now. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”

“You shouldn’t be alone—”

“Stop.”

He sighs.

I feel him take a step closer, so there’s only a tiny bit of space remaining between my back and his front. I can feel the heat radiating off him, through that tiny sliver of separation. His breath stirs the hair at my nape with each exhale.

It takes every bit of strength I possess not to turn around and look at him, to close the distance between us. I know, with his arms around me, I’ll feel better — there’s no comfort in the world like the circle of Chase’s arms.

But I don’t. I can’t.

Not when, every time I close my eyes, I see the image of the man I’ve fallen in love with sitting across from the man who never loved me. The man who resented my existence from the moment I was conceived. The man I never wanted to see, meet, or even hear from.

Chase knew all that; he reached out to him anyway.

So, it doesn’t matter that he was trying to fix things — fix me. It’s still a betrayal. It still hurts.

The elevator doors finally slide open, and I step inside. I half expect him to follow me in, but when I turn to face the doors, I see he’s frozen just outside the threshold, his face a mask of sadness and frustration.

“Sunshine…” he whispers, pain flashing on his features. “I didn’t mean… I thought if you just…” He shakes his head. “I want you to be happy. I was trying to make things better for you. To protect you.”

I hit the button to take me down to the lobby, staring at him with eyes full of distrust. “Then why did you do the one thing you knew would hurt me beyond belief?”

His mouth opens, shuts, opens again. No words escape, because there’s nothing to say.

Our gazes hold until the doors shut, leaving me alone.

I don’t even try to fight the tears, as they drip down my cheeks onto the elevator floor.

***

I race out of the building, dodge through a crowd of pedestrians with my head ducked, in case there are any paparazzi lurking nearby, and dart across the street to the closest subway station. I’m sure Knox is hot on my heels — Chase may’ve let me leave, but there’s no way he’d do it without knowing I have protection — so I hop on the first train I see and ride aimlessly for nearly an hour, changing lines at random. People look at me a little strangely — in their defense, I am still weeping like a leaky faucet — but no one says or does a thing.

This is New England, after all. We aren’t that friendly.

I hop off the T at the public garden and start to wander the paths, thinking a walk by the pond might clear my head. The park is dreary this time of year — gray, damp, with only tiny traces of spring peaking up from the flower beds — and it does little to distract me.

At the water’s edge, I catch sight of two swans, a mother and her baby, gliding across the surface in perfect tandem.

Across the way, on the opposite bank, a young mother and