Chapter 33
Ava
By the time I make it back to my suite, I’m beat. It’s been raining on and off, and a bus splashed me while I was waiting at the corner to cross the street, but I’m too close to cloud nine to care.
“Thank you,” I tell the doorman as he lets me in.
“You look happy.”
“I’ve been sightseeing,” I say. “Exploring New York without a care in the world.”
He smiles. “Well, you’re positively glowing. You probably have your phone full of photos.”
The thing is, I don’t. Not even one.
And my brother would be proud of me.
He’s always telling me to live in the moment. That fear casts long shadows if you let it. Today, I didn’t.
I could lose myself in New York City and come out the other side just fine. One small body moving through a city of millions, unnoticed.
Invisible.
Free.
Despite a city that begged to be photographed, I didn’t take a single selfie.
One photo would’ve been a breadcrumb.
Followed by the paps descending like seagulls.
I didn’t want proof. I wanted presence.
And it was so worth it.
Times Square. Rockefeller Center. Serendipity 3 and their gargantuan ice cream sundaes.
I didn’t even come close to finishing it. Rookie mistake.
But the next time I’m in New York, I’ll bring reinforcements. Between me, Connor, Ollie, and Snook, their Cotton Candy Burrito Sundae won’t stand a chance.
Will there be a next time?
My phone buzzes. Again. Kali’s blue hair and the nickname Wild Kard light up the screen.
And as much as I know Kali would’ve loved to come along, every time I think about answering, Harrison’s stern, broody face pushes in.
I let it ring out and slip my phone back into my pocket.
Kali. Myra. Pierce. The studio.
Thirty-eight missed calls I don’t care about.
I finish the last of my soft pretzel, swipe the mustard from my fingers, and toss the napkin into the trash.
When I feel the buzz against my pocket again, I ignore it completely.
Consequences be damned.
One week without me.
What’s the worst that could happen?
You might not be Princess Luna.
I shove the thought aside and drift through the lobby, feet aching and soul full, already imagining a bubble bath.
A perfect end to a perfect day.
“Good evening, Miss Alvarez,” the concierge says with a wave. “There’s someone waiting for you in your suite.”
I stop short.
What does he mean there’s someone in my suite?
Could it be Harrison?
Or Pierce?
Or…
No. No, no. I shove the thought aside. There’s no way a stalker got past this level of security.
“Who?” I ask. My voice stays even, though something tightens beneath it.
Either the doorman or the concierge knows the person.
Or someone flat-out took a bribe.
The concierge tilts his head, polite and faintly amused. “He asked me not to say. It’s a surprise.” He punctuates it with jazz hands.
So now, it’s a he.
I glance at his suit. “Is that new?”
His chest puffs as he smooths his lapel. “Why, yes. Yes, it is.”
So much for the perfect day.
I make my way to the elevator and brace for the worst. Fear’s been my bitch all day, and she’s not winning now.
I wish I could tell my runaway pulse that.
I don’t make it three steps into the suite before I realize the surprise is the good kind.
“Gabe?”
My brother barely has time to smile before I wrap both arms around him and tug him into the tightest hug.
I mess up his hair, smiling. “You’re here.” Then, my smile slips. “Does that mean you figured out who it was?” I swallow. “The creep who got into my dressing room?”
He lets out a tired breath. “Not yet. But soon.”
Then I pull back and smack his shoulder.
“Ay, Dios mío. What is wrong with you?” I demand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
He grins, sheepishly, rubbing the spot. “We wanted to surprise you.” He gestures weakly. “Surprise.”
“We?”
He gestures toward the kitchen.
My stomach drops.
Harrison steps into view.
Crisp white shirt. Perfectly fitted jeans. Like a magazine spread in a bad mood.
Meanwhile, I look like I crawled out of a sewer after losing a knife fight with a rat. And did I or did I not get all the mustard off my face?
Fan-freaking-tastic.
That’s it. I’m killing my brother.
My eyes sweep to the tan raincoat draped over the sofa. I narrow my eyes. He was outside the coffee shop.
I narrow my eyes. “Have you been following me?”
Oh, I’m on to you.
Gabe’s gaze flicks to Harrison. Then back to me.
“Tell her,” Harrison says, like there’s a massive elephant in the room and somehow only Gabe can see it.
Gabe rubs the back of his neck. “Okay,” he says. “I will.” He blows out a long, frustrated breath.
Fear starts to thrum in my ears. “Whatever it is, you should probably just tell me,” I say. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”
His big, brown, concerned eyes meet mine. “Don’t freak out.”
The room seems to drop ten degrees. I rub my arms, struggling to pull words together through the stammering panic climbing my chest.
“I’ve barely slept,” I say. “I flinch every time my phone buzzes. I check the locks so many times I lose count. I spent the entire day out in public just to prove I’m not afraid of my own shadow.”
My voice wobbles despite my best effort.
“But I am.”
Tears blur my vision before I can stop them.
“Gabe, if you’re about to tell me that son of a bitch is in New York,” I say, my chest tight, “I swear I’m going to lose it—”
“Harrison wants to be an actor,” he blurts out.
“What?” Harrison’s expression turns lethal.
I take a deep breath. “You do?” I ask, as relief suddenly pours out of my entire system.
“Does he ever,” Gabe says quickly, patting his chest like this physically pains him.
“He’s just incredibly shy about it. And he doesn’t want a word getting out, because, you know, people like me would give him endless shit at the office if we knew this was his secret dream.
So, he needs to follow you around for a few days.
Closely. Every step. Isn't that right Harrison?”
Is it?
Because for all the things I can imagine Harrison Evans doing, acting doesn’t even crack the top hundred.
Model? Hell yeah. Sign me up for the calendar.
But acting?
Harrison shoots Gabe the death glare to end all death glares, presumably for outing his deeply guarded secret.
Then the big, burly lumberjack finally tells the truth.
“Yes,” he says flatly, arms folded tight. “I’m ready for my close-up.”
A laugh bursts out as I swipe at a tear. “Not with that Grumps McGrump expression, you’re not.”
Gabe claps his hands together and rubs them briskly.
“Then it’s settled.”
He grins, squeezing my shoulder in that unmistakably brotherly way.
“And you, baby sis, have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Relief washes through me at the sound of it.
He kisses my cheek. “I’ll finish making dinner.”
Then he turns to Harrison.
“You have the watch.”
Huh? I blink, the phrase sliding right past me. Some kind of bro code. Military, probably.
Gabe gives Harrison a quick pat to the stomach. Harrison’s jaw tightens and…
Was that a growl?
The next thing I know, Gabe is gone, disappearing down the hall like the kitchen’s on fire.
And with my brother’s cooking, there’s a good chance it is.
I become acutely aware that it’s just Harrison and me and an insane pull I’m actively resisting.
I search his eyes. Whatever he’s thinking is locked down tight. The man is an enigma built from restraint, barricaded behind years of brick and mortar. A walking no-entry sign.
Then Harrison breaks the spell.
“I should check on your brother.”
And just like that, he’s gone, disappearing down the hall.
Which is probably for the best. I remind myself I’m leaving soon.
I’ve tried long distance before.
It never works.
Ever.
No matter how badly I might want to believe it could with a mountain man like Harrison Evans.