Suddenly One Summer - Julie James Page 0,87

long hair.

“Ms. Slade. Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“Ford.” She stared at him in surprise, before ducking her head to take out her earbuds.

But the strangest thing was, before she looked away, he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of something else in her eyes.

Something that looked oddly like panic.

* * *

HE COULDN’T BE here.

Victoria, who’d been calm just moments ago, felt a rush of anxiety as she stashed the earbuds in the outside pocket of her briefcase, next to the umbrella. One of the reasons she’d been comfortable taking on the challenge of riding the subway during rush hour was that she’d had an exit strategy planned in the event anything had gone awry. She’d reassured herself, the same way she had during her exercise class and the time she’d gotten nervous on the elevator, that if she felt faint or panicky, she could always just get off the train and take a cab the rest of the way home.

But Ford being here changed everything. Obviously, he would know something was wrong if she suddenly decided to get off before their stop. And since she didn’t want him, of all people, to know about her panic attacks, that meant one thing.

She was trapped.

Her heart began to pound, so she took a deep breath. From the diaphragm. Just like the good doctor had taught her.

Ford cocked his head. “Are you okay?”

Shit. He already was looking at her funny and they hadn’t even gotten on the train yet.

This did not make her feel any less panicked.

Come on, Slade, pull it together. You can do this.

She forced a smile. “Sure. I’m just surprised to see you here. What are the odds, right?” At the sound of an approaching train, she swallowed hard, but maintained her nonchalant façade.

“No kidding. I just finished an interview at the Thompson Center, walked to your office and saw you leave, and basically did a loop right back here,” Ford said before the train rushed into the station and drowned him out.

Victoria nodded, her attention diverted as the train came to a stop and the doors opened. She thought about bailing; she could say that she forgot something in her office, but Ford would probably offer to go with her anyway. But more important, she didn’t want to run from this. She didn’t want to be the person who couldn’t get on a train if she had an audience. She wanted to be herself again, the unflappable, panic-free woman she’d been before the break-in had messed up everything. Because her life had been good before—and a hell of a lot less complicated when it didn’t include therapy, and a pesky psychologist with pesky questions, and a summer rental with a sexy, charming next-door neighbor who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

So if she wanted her old life back, if she wanted to get back to that person she’d been before, it started right here. Right now.

She was getting on that damn train.

That decided, she took another deep breath and stepped forward.

Trying not to be obvious about it, she let a few people pass in front of her and Ford, so that the two of them wouldn’t be stuck at the back of the car. They ended up about a third of the way down the aisle, not too far from the door.

She only had to make it four measly stops, she reminded herself. Less than a fifteen-minute train ride.

“You’re killing me with the suspense here,” Ford said.

Victoria blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Your meeting with Sutter,” he said as the doors closed. “How did it go?”

She shifted her weight as the train began to move, drawing on the trick she’d learned during the Sutters’ open house, when she’d begun to feel light-headed in the closet. If she focused on something other than her fear, her body would stop responding as if she were in a fight-or-flight situation.

Hopefully.

“It went well.” She proceeded to tell Ford about her meeting with Sutter, and the distraction helped. Although she remained hyperaware of her surroundings—primarily the fact that she was in a crowded train car underground—she was able to keep up her end of the conversation.

“He could’ve concocted that entire story in the two hours before you met him at the coffee shop,” Ford said, looking skeptical.

“Maybe. But you didn’t see his face when he asked about Zoe. He was teary-eyed.”

Ford grunted. “Probably freaking out over how he’s going to pay child support for two kids, and for a divorce lawyer, once his

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