Chapter 5
Rhett
He’s not out here. I search the sidewalk, turning in every direction, kicking myself for letting that guy get out of there while that mess of appetizers on the floor blocked me in for one fucking second.
I shouldn’t have gotten distracted. I should have been on him before the tray went down.
Instead, I was questioning whether or not it was the right guy for one fraction of a second too long.
Jealousy isn’t a hard thing to miss, but I can’t fathom why he would have been looking at me like that. I’ve never seen that guy in my life.
I spin around when I feel someone else’s eyes on me, but it’s just a kid, stopping on the pavement to watch me while her mom tries to coax the girl down the sidewalk.
If he was out here before, he’s gone now.
I need to get back to the party in case he returns or never left in the first place, and I’m out here chasing my tail.
Pausing at the door before I go in, I can see Bailey behind the glass.
The crowd has their backs turned to me, and she’s standing at a podium in front of them all, reading under some type of spotlight that makes her glow — bouncing light off her dress, sending rainbows dancing all over the room like she’s the surface of the water at the end of a long day.
Her eyes flick to mine when I slip through the door, and she stumbles over a word. Pausing mid-sentence to smile down at the open page. Even from back here, there’s a familiar pink color settling into her cheeks, but she goes on flawlessly to finish.
Because that was the summer my heart finally caught up to the rest of me — from the small, steady beat of a girl, into one fully capable of breaking as a woman.
Forever aching for a place that no longer exists, and a time that would become, against all odds, nothing more than a memory.
” She quietly lowers the book and smiles down at the page, now fully closed in her hands.
I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until the room is silent for one heart-stopping second before erupting into applause. A loud group of women cheers at full volume, while Bailey’s entire body relaxes beneath a grin.
God, she’s gorgeous. And has apparently just shared something she wrote that lit this whole room on fire, while I was outside chasing that idiot.
She beams at a few of the faces in the crowd, and I wonder who else has been here to support her each time that I haven’t.
I have no right to feel jealous, since it’s not like anyone’s ever barred me at the door from coming — quite the opposite, as I’ve received invites to every one — but jealousy and regret can start to feel similar, given enough time passing.
She takes a long, steady inhale and clasps the book to her chest, nodding until the applause dies down. At least three people brush a tear from their cheek, and I’m even more mad that I missed it.
She thanks everyone and steps off the stage, immediately surrounded by the group of women who’d been cheering the loudest. I can tell she knows them by the way they talk and hug each other. It leaves me feeling like I should have figured out a way to be here for more of these events.
I leave my post by the door to go stand beside her as a guy with thick eyebrows and glasses begins directing the room into a line behind the largest table, already covered in stacks of brand-new books.
I tossed my copy on a table when I rushed out earlier, which means I’m going to need to grab another at some point.
If reading this book will tell me more about what Bailey’s creepy superfan is planning next, I need to get my hands on it.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” Bailey says with a smile when I get close enough.
At the exact second she lifts onto her toes, I turn to square my shoulders next to hers so I can stand beside her and observe everyone moving around us. Her heels hit the floor, and I can feel her side-eyeing me. She probably meant for that to be a hug hello, and I just totally messed it up.
First, I nearly knock her down, then I stiff her on a hug.
Fuck.
She clears her throat, and we both awkwardly stare ahead.
I silently curse my sister in my head. I already have one strike against me for both jobs tonight — friendship and security — and the night’s barely getting started.
“Sorry about that,” I tell her, nudging her shoulder but keeping my eyes on a guy who seems to be looking at Bailey a little longer than I’d like.
It’s a different man from earlier, but I raise my brows at him to see if he runs like that guy did.
He just frowns and turns away. “Seems like I missed the most important part,” I continue, then lower my voice.
“I’m going to need you to repeat that reading for me later on. “
She laughs, nudging my arm back, and for one quick second, it makes my mind go blank. It feels like a lightning rod zapping my body in that exact spot. I take a small step away. It’s only an inch or two, but it allows me to focus on a woman reaching into her giant purse.
“Ah, yeah, no, I won’t be repeating that reading for you later on,” Bailey says with a grin in her voice. I frown, but keep my eyes trained on another woman walking in the door. “I hate reading my books out loud.”
“I’ll just read it later then,” I tell her, grabbing a book off the table next to us. There’s already a line forming behind the signing table, one set up with a chair and a pile of pens.
She crosses her arms beside me, mirroring my stance, watching the line form. Then her shoulder presses into my elbow when she leans into me. I fight the urge to move away again, but I can already feel my focus on anything but her draining.
“What are we watching?” she whispers, like we’re sharing a secret conspiracy unfolding right here in front of us.
“What do you mean?” I ask, not glancing over. There’s a guy I hadn’t noticed earlier walking through the back of the room.
“Well, you haven’t made eye contact with me since you nearly ran me over. And now you’re watching this room like you’re running security for Madonna. You know you’re not working tonight, right?”
I clear my throat, hoping Hollis can telepathically feel my annoyance in London right now. Like a ghostly smack that might wake her up since she’s probably asleep right now.
“Sorry for almost knocking you over earlier. There was something I needed to take care of outside real quick. And I guess, yeah, old surveillance habits die hard,” I answer, not looking away from the crowd. It’s the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but still the truth.
“I get that. Uh, well, I’m going to have to sign some of these for a little while.
But . . . do you want to sit with me here?
” She pulls the chair out from the table at the head of the line, then looks up at me before sitting down.
“You don’t have to stay the whole time, but I’d love to catch up with you afterward if you’re—”
Before she can finish, I’m already grabbing a second chair to sit right beside hers.
“No, this is great. I’ll stay,” I say, kicking myself for making this so awkward while wishing I could add that this will all make sense in the morning when Hollis finally comes clean.
She scoots herself in, then tucks her feet in beneath the table. I can feel her glancing over at me, but I keep my eyes on the line. I don’t see the guy who ran out earlier, but there’s no letting my guard down yet.
Both exits are clear.
No one seems to be fishing around in their pockets.
There’s a woman with an unusually large tote bag who—
“Mmm kay.” Bailey mutters. She thinks I’m being ridiculous. Or cold and stiff. Probably all of the above. Completely understandable since I’ve walked in with about as much charm as this table we’re sitting at.
The first person in line steps up with five copies tucked under her arm.
“Hello,” Bailey greets the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Mara. Oh my gosh,” the woman swoons, “I’m such a fan. And that chapter you just read was gorgeous. Is the lake town based on one you go to in real life? I already know I want to go there, if it is.”
“Sort of. It’s based on a lot of places I’ve been, all rolled into one,” Bailey answers. I keep my eyes on the woman who’s fishing around in her purse. “Who can I make these dedications out to?”
They exchange the woman’s stack of books while I sit on the edge of my seat. This is going to be hard to watch if every person in this line has to hand her something.
Christ almighty.
“Can you make these out to my four besties and me? We’re all in a book club,” the woman answers.
Bailey takes a list of names from her, then she glances in my direction.
The woman glances at me, too, then she smiles awkwardly at Bailey, like she’s wondering who I am and why I’m here.
I suppose I could stand a few feet to the side of the table since it’s probably awkward for me to be sitting here.
I lean over. “Is it weird that I’m sitting here?” I ask, while keeping my eyes glued to another woman who looks a bit lost at the back of the room.
“Nope, but this might take a while, so get comfy,” Bailey says, opening the spine of the first book. She double-checks the list of names at the top before signing the first.
I used to watch her practice her signature in a notebook when we were younger.
We’d prop our fishing rods up with sticks and rocks beside the water’s edge, and she’d pass the time while we waited for a bite by making all sorts of variations of her name.
Exaggerating the loops on the B, or drawing little hearts over the I, then asking me which one I liked best.
“It’s perfect,” I tell her, glancing at her signature, now on the first page right beneath the title. “I like the one you picked.”
Her pen lifts, but by the time her eyes lift too, mine are already back on the crowd, observing a guy who’s busy reaching into his pocket.
“What is?” she asks.
“Your signature,” I answer.