Chapter Twenty-Three
CHASE
A Month Later
This past month has been the hardest of my life.
I’m messing up at work, I’m drinking myself to sleep, despair is my middle name, and I’m a screwed-up mess without Lyric.
I’ve been driving past her house to check in on her occasionally.
Seeing her puppy growing is like watching our child grow.
I know the puppy’s a boy because she’s called him Peter.
Weird name for a dog, you might think, but all I can think of when I found out was she called him that after Peter from The Night Agent—the show we always binge-watched together on Netflix.
Peter might be another man’s name, but he reminds her of me.
I’m sure of it. So, I’ve marked that down as a win.
The thing is, my work habits have gone to hell lately because I can’t get my mind off Lyric.
And today is no exception.
Lyric’s at work, and I should be too, but like some days around lunchtime, I’ve found myself here, at her home. Her neighbor, Mrs. McIntosh, has spotted me a few times and threatened to call the police. I told her I am Lyric’s dog-sitter, a small lie, but she seemed to back off.
I walk down Lyric’s driveway, waving at Mrs. McIntosh.
The frail old lady waves back as I make my way toward the backyard, opening the rear gate.
Peter greets me in his cute little puppy-dog way, jumping up on me, wagging his tail, before I bend down and give him a pet, then kick the gate shut behind me.
“Hey, Petey! How are we doing today, buddy?” I ask him as I lift him in my arms. His tongue darts out, smacking up the side of my face in a drooly lick.
I walk with Petey around the back of her house and up onto the deck to the rear of the sunroom. The sounds of the ocean soothe me as warmth floods my chest when I see Polly glancing out the giant windows like he’s waiting for me.
“Rawrr… bonjour,” Polly screeches out the tiny opening in the window, which Lyric leaves open for Polly to get fresh air.
I move to the wooden chair on the back deck and sit with Petey on my lap.
He jumps about like the playful pup he is, so I pet his fur as he nuzzles into me and gradually drifts off to sleep.
“Hey, Polly, are you having a good day?” I ask him. I know my conversations with him aren’t entirely accurate because he answers with random words, but I enjoy them anyway.
“Rawrr… feed me, feed me.”
I chuckle, low and rough. “Right down to business, huh, Polly?” I reach into my pocket, pull out some apple slices, and hold them up. “All right, boss, here you go.”
Petey shifts beside him, nosing at the packet like he’s ready for his cut too.
I arch a brow. “You too? Damn, anyone watching would think your mom’s starving you. But we both know that’s bullshit.” I toss Petey a slice, smirking. “Pair of freeloaders, that’s what you are.”
“Rawrr… fuck off, fuck off.”
I laugh again as I open the bag, pull out a slice, and slide it through the small crack in the window, handing it to Polly.
He picks it up with his foot and starts to nibble.
I wish I could chat with Lyri and tell her how much I miss her.
The problem is, last time I came in too soon and ruined everything, so this time I have to play it smart.
She’s angry.
Rightly so.
I need to do this the correct way, no matter how much it’s killing me.
Petey nudges at my hand again, those big eyes locked in like he’s making demands now. I grunt, shaking my head. “You’re hanging around Polly too much. You’re picking up his attitude.”
I bite into an apple slice, let the crunch settle in my jaw, then hand off the rest to Petey. He chomps, tail wagging like it’s the best damn he’s ever had.
“Didn’t even know dogs liked apples,” I mutter, watching the slobber trail down his chin, “Guess we’re all learning things lately.”
I hand another slice to Polly. He takes it, but barely reacts, his eyes glassy, like he’s onto me.
My chest tightens as I stare at the two of them, loyal and quiet, and the ache in my gut spikes.
“I miss her, Polly.” The words come out low, rough, like gravel in my throat.
I rub the back of my neck, trying to get a grip.
“Fuck, I love her. I just—” I stop, exhale hard.
The air feels heavier than it should. “I fucking love her.”
“Rawrr… love her, love her.”
I chuckle, sitting back, soaking up the sun, just being in comforting surroundings. It might be weird—the arrangement we have, well, no, let’s get this right, I have with them without Lyric’s knowledge—but I love these two little guys, and I know they like my occasional visits.
I glance at my watch. Right, I’d better get back to work, or else Dax is going to kick my ass again for leaving. Let alone my father, who’s constantly on my back for dropping the ball these days. But I have bigger and much more important things to deal with right now.
‘The Hallmark Maneuver’ is ready to launch.
And I need to really put on my game face.
It’s taken longer than expected because everything had to line up.
I am still sending love notes to Lyric. I found a couple of local kids, and with their parents’ permission, they run notes from me to Lyric, then report back to me on how she took them.
I pay them in cash, right in front of their parents.
I was in a park one day, sitting on a bench in a disheveled state, when one of the mothers approached me.
I ended up telling her everything, and she was more than happy to have her kid involved.
Actually, all the moms are rooting for me, and apparently, Lyric’s reactions are getting better and better each time the kids deliver a note.
But now I need to get back to work before I find myself fired.
Plus, I have some calls to make to ensure everything is in place.
“I’ll see you later, Polly,” I call out, poking my finger through the small gap in the window. He ducks his head so I can pet his feathers.
“Rawrr… bonjour, bonjour.”
I give Petey another cuddle and raise my brow. “You really gotta learn your hellos from your goodbyes, Polly.”
“Rawrr… get lost, get lost.”
Warmth floods me.
“Yeah, I guess that’s good enough.”
***
As Dax walks into my office, I end a call.
I can’t help but turn up my lips into a smirk while I sit back in my chair. I feel like things are falling into place.
“Is it happening?” Dax asks.
“It is. Tonight. I just have to figure out a way to get her there.”
Dax steadies his shoulders. “Leave that part to me. You tell me what time, and I will make it happen.”
I exhale. “Lyri’s surprise will be arriving around eight. I’m hoping we can have dinner before then.”
Dax grimaces. “If she stays.”
“If she tries to leave, I might have to tell her what her surprise is to make her stick around.”
Dax flares his nostrils. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, and you guys can talk properly before it gets there.”
I roll my shoulders to try to free myself from the nerves coiled tight in my gut. “I just hope this works. It’s taken a lot of planning.”
“She’s gonna love it, Chase. She’ll be putty in your big manly hands.”
I sure do hope so.
Later That Night
Nerves are running hot, a volatile mix of adrenaline and pressure simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.
The collar of my suit feels too tight, like it’s choking me, even though I know it fits perfectly.
I shift restlessly, dragging my palm down the side of my tailored pants, trying to erase the slick sweat before it betrays how unsteady I feel.
My jaw clenches hard, the tension locking up my neck, making every breath feel like I’m dragging air through gravel.
‘The Hallmark Maneuver’ is live.
There’s no backing out now.
This has to work.
It needs to work.
I didn’t go all-in to fall flat on my ass.
I start pacing, the sound of my dress shoes echoing off the high ceiling of the empty room, each step more agitated than the last. My pulse pounds behind my ears like a warning. I glance down at my watch again. Then again. My stomach churns like it’s eating itself from the inside out.
Where the hell is Dax?
They were supposed to be here two hours ago.
Dinner’s not just cold, it’s ruined. The perfectly timed plan I set out like a battlefield strategy is slipping through my fingers. I’ve called Dax. Texted Lyric. Nothing. My imagination’s getting the best of me now.
Was there an accident?
Did she refuse to come?
Did Dax screw this up?
My hand goes to the back of my neck, rubbing hard as if I can force the tension out through sheer pressure. The longer the silence drags, the tighter my chest coils. The weight of every worst-case scenario presses down like tons of bricks.
Then, suddenly, a loud honk outside slices through the chaos in my mind. My heart kicks into overdrive, slamming against my ribs as I turn toward the sound, blood thundering in my veins.
Please let it be them.
Rechecking my watch, I confirm it’s not the surprise. We still have a few minutes before it’s due to arrive. Good. That gives me just enough time to pull myself together. But then the front door creaks open, and I spin toward it, heart lurching.
Dax walks in behind her, and there she is—Lyric.
My breath catches.
She’s stunning. That soft, flowing dress clings just right in all the places that make my thoughts derail.
My chest tightens at the sight of her legs, the sway of her hips, the way that fabric moves with her.
God, I love it when she wears dresses. Always have. She wears them like she owns the world.
But then I register her face, and everything shifts. She’s not just irritated. She’s angry. That fire behind her eyes isn’t the kind that invites you closer, it’s the kind that burns everything in its path.
My gaze drops to Dax, who strolls in behind her, sporting a fresh black eye.
What the hell?