Chapter 38 Pippa
PIPPA
Iowe the Uber driver more than the massive tip I left because they arrived at the house in record time.
I had them bring me to a car rental place and then got a room at Noble Oak Motel, except the letter A is missing, so the glowing sign just said Noble Ok.
It was the only nearby place with a vacancy.
It’s musty and the bedding is somehow damp, but I survive the night.
The next morning, I drive back to Boston in the rental car, away from the drama and away from love. Yet, I feel like I forgot something. Left an important item behind.
I’m not sure what my next steps are aside from following through with my commitments at Blancbourg. Then I’ll probably have to find a new job. Not only did Chase and I kiss while I was still his coach, but I’ve also made a mess of things and probably need a clean break and a fresh start.
My heart is broken, that’s for sure, and there’s nothing clean about it.
Like the good little forensic analyst grad student she is, Phoebe did some digital digging and uncovered more of the scandal.
Yes, the internet alleyways she went down are probably illegal, but what’s family for if not helping each other out?
In this case, she wasn’t helping bury a body, but rather, uncovering the truth.
I feel bad for Chase because of his father’s deceit. Hopefully, that means things are off between him and Marlow, but where does that leave us?
Nowhere. I’m just about back to where I started, with little more than a crush that I can fantasize about.
Guilt, remorse, and loss ricochet like arrows without anywhere to go, piercing me repeatedly, and making me feel worse and worse.
Reading the emails and getting Phoebe involved wasn’t a game, but I couldn’t let Marlow win, not if she was going to cheat—and considering some of the texts with Joe, that was definitely on the menu. Chase deserves better than that.
But between fulfilling his commitment to the Bruisers after moon-gate, focusing on his career, and the drama with his family, I don’t see room in his life for me.
It’s confirmed. I’m walking, talking, living, breathing weird luck.
My phone rings. The battery runs low. So does my own, but I answer anyway.
It’s my brother. “Princess Calliope Avington Twinklebelle, what did I miss? Phoebe keeps texting me, insisting I call you.”
“She didn’t fill you in?”
“No, she’s busy with Boxy.”
“No way.”
“Just a hunch. I heard laughter in the background and it distinctly sounded like—” He imitates a donkey braying. “If she can stand that, they’re golden.”
I don’t feel much like laughing, but Freddie gets me to crack a smile.
Maybe twin-tuition is real. I catch him up on the digging Pheobe did.
“She found out plenty about Rhett’s company, the financial crisis, and some computer history and email exchanges that revealed Rhett had solicited a forger to copy and then falsify documents, implicating Cap Collins rather than Starkowsky in various cases of fraud and bribery.
It also looks like he amended Cap’s will, adding the marriage requirement. ”
“But you’re together now and everything is okay?”
“Together? No. He’s on the Cape. I’m in Boston. Freddie, he and I can’t be together.”
“You’re talking about my best friend. You’re not allowed to break his heart.”
“How am I breaking his heart?”
“Because of your rules? Because things got hard and you pushed him away.”
“It goes both ways, but do you have any better ideas?”
“Talk? Communicate!”
“Says the guy who calls me but once a year on our birthday.”
“Twice now. And I text you all the time. Oh, and by the way, it’s our half-birthday.”
“Do you keep track of that?”
“Chase and I are almost exactly six months apart. He turned eighteen first, so we celebrated my half-birthday at the pub. That means it’s also your half-birthday.”
“So you called me to yell at me for leaving your best friend?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to call him next.”
“And because Phoebe told you to.”
“Also that. So, when should I book my ticket to come back?”
“Freddie, you’re being suspiciously sweet, which I’m not going to lie, I appreciate. But I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Sure, yeah, whatever. I’m wondering when your wedding is going to be.”
“If you mean with Chase, ha ha. So funny. But if we were to get married, it would probably thunderstorm, the cake would get sat on, and the electricity wouldn’t work. Toilets would clog and dresses would be torn. I can only imagine how awful it would be.”
“Way to be positive, Pippa.”
“Just realistic. When the DNA was divvied up between us, you got all the good luck, living a charmed life, jet-setting all over the world.”
“But I’m alone.”
“Only as of a few days ago. And what have I been all this time?”
“You knew who you wanted.”
“And he’s just as out of reach as ever.” But what I want and what I need is trust. Everything that occurred in the last few weeks, dredging up my high school embarrassments and insecurities, calls that into question.
It forces me to ask if I can trust anyone—certainly not Marlow, Mr. Collins, or even myself at times.
Can I trust Chase?
My stomach churns with nerves, like a boat pitching in rough water.
Except the sky is clear. The wind is calm. Two tears track down my cheeks, salty and warm. I haven’t been thinking with my head but with my heart.
“Freddie, leaving Chase was incredibly painful, but what was I supposed to do? Continue to be tormented by Marlow? Stand by while Rhett threatened his son? Wait for Chase to realize that he’s in control of his life? What would you have done?”
“Same thing you did.”
“I doubt that. Seriously, what would you have done?”
“I’ve never officially been in love, so I can’t speak with authority, but I probably would’ve tried to protect my heart at all costs. Also, maybe socked someone in the nose. Just being honest.”
Before we get off the phone, I make Freddie promise not to punch Chase, just in case he is getting on a plane because he’s mad at us.
As I continue to drive, these questions and more follow me as the scenery outside shifts from rural to suburban to city. Despite the GPS directing me, the Boston streets somehow send me into a spiral of confusion and I wind up outside the Boston Bruiser’s stadium.
I pull over to get back on track when my phone beeps with a message from my sister.
Phoebe: So what are you going to do?
Me: Try to find my way to the Four Seasons.
Phoebe: Are you lost?
Me: Very. But if you meant the series of unfortunate events that recently transpired in my life, which one should we start with? You were right. We can fill an entire book.
Phoebe: I meant, what are you going to do for lunch?
Me: Seriously?
Phoebe: Yeah, you’re in Boston. There are some great restaurants there. No, silly. Are you going back to Concordia? Coming home to London?
Me: If I miraculously overcome my chocolate allergy, then Concordia it is. I understand why people crave chocolate after heartbreak.
Phoebe: You do know that you’re not actually allergic to chocolate, right? Freddie just told you that so he’d get all your Easter candy.
My mouth hangs open. Oh, he owes me big.
Me: What about the hives?
Phoebe: Have you ever broken out?
Me: Technically, no, but Freddie said I would. Freddie! That rascal. Any wonder why I have trust issues?
Phoebe: Mom is going to get wind of this and we need a plan so she doesn’t come at Chase with an angry mob carrying flaming torches and pitchforks.
Me: Fair point. If you can buy me some time, I’ll let you know my plans first thing tomorrow morning.
After the crisis at the Collins’ house, I was up much of the night and I truly don’t know what to do or where to go, so I do the only thing I know how to do during uncertain times when I feel powerless, confused, or worried.
I pray.
I pray all the way to the hotel, while in the parking garage, up the elevator, and when walking through the lobby. I pray to know which way to go. Where. When. How.
But first, the best I can do is put one foot in front of the other, shower, and settle into my room.
I queue up Ted Lasso and am about to dial room service to see if they’re willing to bring me all the chocolate in the hotel when there is a knock on the door. My heart leaps in my chest.
But it’s room service. I’m guessing my sister sent me ice cream. I’ll just curl up, eat, and laugh away my woes.
A man dressed in the tan and black uniform of the hotel’s employees pushes the service cart into my room. Two plates with silver covers hide the contents.
“Are you sure you have the right room? I didn’t order—”
My phone beeps—probably Phoebe. Instead, it’s an audio text.
Chase’s familiar, deep, and flirty voice comes through the speaker, but it’s edged with fatigue and misery.
“I’m sorry for everything that happened.
I’m sorry you left without dinner. I’m sorry if I was anything other than exceptional to you.
You deserve better. If you’re willing to give me a second—no, a third chance, please meet me in the lobby at nine tomorrow morning. Also, I hope you like this slice.”
The hotel employee lifts the silver cover to reveal a triangular piece of pizza with a pillowy crust and bubbling cheese.
My phone beeps again. “And happy half-birthday, Pippa.”
The hotel staff member lifts the other cover to reveal a cupcake covered in colorful sprinkles and with a single candle in the middle.
“Thank you,” I call to the worker as he retreats down the hall.
My stomach aches with hunger. I ache for Chase. Setting aside table manners, I devour dinner and dessert.
For so long, I felt powerless. I couldn’t control what my parents, his, or Marlow were doing.
Everything felt out of control. Yes, I’m just one person, but I can tell Chase how I feel about him and that has to mean something.
As I plan what I’ll say, I fall asleep, which means I’ll just have to wing it.
The next morning, when I wake up, light streams through a break in the long drapes. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and why. The clock indicates it’s almost eleven.
Chase asked me to meet him at nine in the hotel lobby. Despite all the tumult, the yo-yo back and forth between student and teacher, friendship and relationship, crush and love, I want to give Chase the third chance he requested.
I want to give him all the chances.
Only, I worry that I’m too late, literally.
Still in my pajamas, I break my rules about appearance and hurry out the door.
My heart hammers in my chest as the elevator seems to stop at every floor as it descends.
When I get to the lobby, I scan for a tall, handsome football star.
A few people mill around, some check in and others check out.
I let out a long-held breath.
Chase came after me in his own, cheesy and sweet way—the cupcake was edible and not a sponge covered in frosting. However, I blew it with no thanks to my rotten luck, having overslept.
I hang my head as I walk slowly toward the elevator. An announcer’s voice on the television cuts through the clicking of heels, the chatter of voices, and the whooshing of the revolving door at the front of the hotel.
I turn slowly to see the silhouette of a man in the lounge. An old football highlight reel plays on the TV in the background. He tosses a few bills on the table and turns in my direction.
Chase’s frown transforms into his flirty smile, lifting my own.
His eyes sparkle and relief washes through them.
My pulse rushes through me, practically singing in my ears.
He strides forward and I meet him halfway.
“You waited.” My heart throbs in my chest.
“I told you I was patient.” His lips quirk.
My smile widens.
“Pippa, you were worth the wait.” Chase takes my hands in his and kisses my knuckles.
“So, no more Marlow?”
“Not a chance. I’m sorry that I didn’t stop the whole thing with my father before it hurtled out of control like a runaway train. I should’ve handled it differently.”
“Forgiven. I apologize for repeatedly pushing you away,” I say.
“We’re good?”
I nod. “We’re good. I thought I lost you.”
“But we found each other.”
I lift onto my toes and kiss him on the cheek.
“What if I also told you that I found a certain list on my sister’s desk?”
“What kind of list?” My nerves tick.
“The crush kind. I took a picture of it if you want to see it. Interestingly, I fit the criteria across the board and qualify for all of the items on the list. You know, if you’re looking.” He winks.
“What if I told you that list contained things that my crush specifically did in high school that made me fall for him?”
His eyes dance. “So, would you like to attend the First Annual Boston Bruisers Charity Ball with me? It’s not the prom, but it is pretty fancy.”
“I’d be delighted. When is it?”
“In a couple of weeks.
“This might be the longest two weeks of my life,” I say with a smile.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to find something to do to pass the time.”
“Any bright ideas?” Our feelings run deeper than a crush or a fling and the heart fluffies fill me up.
Chase says, “Now that the Blancbourg program is over, it’s a relief that we’re not breaking any rules. From here on out, any rules we make are our own.”
“I can think of one or two. Honesty and trust.”
“Always.” He plants a kiss on the inside of my wrist.
“Then after that?”
“We’ll have the rest of our lives.” His lips find my temple.
“I like the sound of that.”
Chase kisses each of my cheeks. “Forget Crush or Cupid. Let’s have our show. Chase and Pippa live happily ever after?”
“I love you, Chase.”
“I loved you first.” His dimple pops and then he plants his lips on mine.