Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Dresses make excellent bathing suits.
Otis may be engaged by the end of the night.
Burglary is not my strong suit.
Someone coughed.
I stared in a daze at where John’s fingers had been laced with mine. He pulled away—but didn’t move back. Instead, he leaned forward, handing a piece of paper to Charlene.
“What’s happening?” I heard myself ask.
Charlene scanned the page with a concerned look, her gaze flicking between John and Elaine.
“Has this been discussed?” she asked.
He nodded. “The rest of the board saw the proof this morning.”
Charlene readjusted her glasses.
I tugged on John’s sleeve. “What’s going on?”
He simply folded his hands on the table and smiled. I could’ve punched him.
Finally, Charlene spoke, her voice cutting cleanly through the quiet.
“I’ve just received notice that one of our writers has broken the rules and is therefore being disqualified.”
Disqualified.
The word echoed in my brain, colliding with the roaring in my ears. Around us, people started shouting questions.
Panic bloomed inside me—sharp and expanding like a black hole. What did I do? Had I broken a rule?
But Charlene didn’t look at me. No security came over. No one dragged me from the room.
She turned to Elaine. “I’m sorry, but the competition ends for you today.”
A tidal wave of outrage rolled through Elaine’s Army. Phones tracking every second. Voices rose.
I felt John lean into me, heat radiating from him. “They found camera footage of her stealing your laptop,” he said.
Oh. OH. That bitch.
“Does that mean—?” I turned to him.
“You’ll be stuck with me a little longer,” he said.
His grin could’ve outshone the stage lights.
“That was close,” Otis said, wrapping me in a hug before pressing a champagne flute into my hand.
“I could’ve done without the drama,” I muttered, sipping. After quickly explaining to Jeremy and May why Elaine had been removed from the competition, the four of us found ourselves backstage. Somehow, Otis had managed to charm his way in—still not sure how.
“John will be a while,” Jeremy said, catching my gaze.
I felt caught.
“How ’bout we grab some food?” May suggested.
Jeremy nodded, straightening his bowtie.
“Excellent idea,” Otis said, linking his arm through mine. “What better way to celebrate you being awesome than making new friends?”
His cheeky grin flicked from me to Jeremy—who blushed harder.
“Do we really have time before the show?” I nudged Otis, desperate to get out of my heels and away from the crowd. My ideal night now involved comfy bathrobes, a mini bar, and an uninterrupted episode of Drag Race.
But the look in Otis’s eyes promised mischief. And probably heartbreak.
“I think we can squeeze it in,” he said, not even pretending to look away from Jeremy.
May glanced up from her tea. “I know a place around the corner.”
The place, as it turned out, was far too fancy for my wallet. Cloth napkins. Actual cloth napkins. It was called Repas Courte, a French seaside-inspired restaurant that served meals so tiny you needed five to feel full.
I tried to telepathically signal to Otis that I couldn’t afford this, but he was glued to Jeremy to whole time.You would think he’d never seen a man before.
“You’re drooling,” I whispered as someone took my coat. I had to stifle the urge to hunch over and hide my valuables.
“Mh,” he grunted, completely entranced.
We were seated at a table for six beneath a chandelier that glittered like diamonds. May sat across from me. Jeremy was across from Otis, who was now grilling him about star signs and compatibility. Something about Ennegrams and rising suns.
I resigned myself to chatting with May.
“When you said you knew a place,” I said, adjusting my short dress, “I was expecting something a little more low-key. Maybe something that doesn’t come dusted in edible gold.”
A server in a crisp button-up and suspenders brought over a decanter of water.
“My family owns the place,” May said with a casual shrug.
Otis blinked. “This place is fancy AF.”
“Please don’t say AF,” I said.
“That’s my sister,” May added, nodding toward our waitress, who handed me a wine menu.
“Hey, M. You missed family trivia night,” the server said, looking distinctly like May but younger. Same curly hair. Same arched nose.
“I wanted to give you a chance to win for once,” May replied with a smirk.
Her sister rolled her eyes, then turned to me, waiting for my order.
“I’ll have… that one,” I said, pointing at the cheapest wine on the list. “Can’t tell the difference anyway.”
“Neither can I.” May shrugged. “Don’t worry—dinner’s on me. I get a nice discount.”
She smiled and casually looped a piece of yarn around her finger.
I could swear the table let out a collective sigh.
At that moment, John dropped into the seat beside me. I jumped so hard I knocked over my water glass.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I clutched my throat. “Can you not warn a person before ambushing them?”
John rolled up his sleeves and planted both elbows on the table. “I would hardly call sitting in a chair an ambush.”
I glared and started blotting the table with one of the fancy cloth napkins.
“I’m so sorry,” I said as the waitress approached.
“Why do your guests always have to be the messy ones?” she asked, unimpressed.
“Because I love you so much,” May replied sweetly, not even glancing up from her hot pink yarn.
“I feel like I’ve missed something,” John said, frowning.
I shrugged, leaning back in my seat. “It’s a particularly friendly restaurant.”
A beat later, the starters arrived.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere doing famous things?”
Otis kicked me under the table. “Ow.” I kicked him back.
“Didn’t want to miss the celebration,” John said, flashing a smile that brought out his dimples and flushed my entire face. I ducked behind my menu.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“Well,” Otis said, leaning back so he could look around Jeremy and grin at John, “it was so nice of you to join us. Nora hasn’t stopped talking about you.”
I kicked harder. Otis yelped, then covered his mouth. “I’m so sorry. These escargots are just too good.”
John stretched his long legs under the table. “I live around the corner.”
“You do?” I blinked. Somehow, I hadn’t imagined him as a person who… well, had a home. My mind conjured something with black marble floors, wrought iron staircases, and pristine glass tables. No dust. A fridge stocked with protein shakes. A dartboard with my face on it.
“Yes,” he said. “Down the pier. On one of the boats.”
“A boat?” I snorted just as my fork slipped. A mussel launched off my plate and landed squarely in John’s lap. “Slippery little fuckers.”
John casually picked it up and popped it into his mouth. “Tasty, though.” His jaw flexed as he chewed. He tilted his head. “Why is a boat so funny?”
“It’s just… very Joe Fox of you.”
May looked up from her soup. “Joe who?”
But John’s grin widened.
“Wasn’t that the guy from that Meg Ryan movie?” Otis said, casually brushing his fingers next to Jeremy’s. They may as well call this their first date.
“So,” he leaned toward me, “how long are you in Chicago?”
“Why?” I raised an eyebrow. “Planning to offer me a tour?”
Ah. As soon as alcohol was in the mix, there came gutsy-Nora.
He blinked in surprise but recovered fast. A smirk curled on his lips. “Maybe.”
He shifted slightly, parting his legs so that one rested against mine.
“You just want to lure me away and hide my body before I can win. Smart strategy.”
“You see right through me,” he murmured, his grin turning soft.
Conversation continued around the table, but John’s eyes stayed locked on mine. His leg pressed just slightly against my own, right where boot ended and dress began. Probably accidental.
Still, a part of me thawed—like Jeremy’s ice cubes melting in his Coke.
May and Jeremy explained how they’d discovered just how similar their Captain Caruso ideas were during the cabin retreat. Their writing styles complemented each other, they said. It made more sense to team up than to compete.
They’d become genuine friends in such a short time. A perfect little symbiosis.
“Sounds like a great fit,” I said, sipping my wine—only to find the glass already empty. A flicker of panic hit me. Not at the wine but them. They were fast. They were smart. And now they were together. Add in a bestselling author like John, and my odds looked... bleak.
Honestly, if Elaine hadn’t self-destructed, I might’ve just packed up and gone home.
I felt pretty fucked.
And not in a fun way.
That’s when she arrived.
A flurry of gold curls, designer bags, and fur-trimmed everything swirled into the seat beside May, across from John.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, peeling off her sunglasses. “Got held up by the press. Are these your little friends?”
The blonde from the second row.
She looked familiar.
Too familiar.
And as soon as her face came into full view, my breath caught.
Her long lashes blinked slowly as she studied the table. “What did I miss?”
“Not much,” John said, clipped. He straightened in his seat, disconnecting our bodies.
“And you are?” May asked, still not looking up from her knitting.
Otis choked on his drink.
“I’m Vivian,” the woman said with a bright, camera-ready smile. “John’s fiancée, of course.”
I should’ve guessed. The way she walked in like she owned the place. The way heads turned. The way the waitress appeared at her side the second she sat down.
Vivian Garner. The Vivian Garner.
Skin flawless like she’d stepped out of a luxury skincare ad. Hair curled to perfection. I could smell her lotions and serums from across the table.
White noise pulsed in my ears. A feeling I couldn’t put my finger on grew inside my gut.
I knew John was engaged. We’d been through that. A PR stunt. A farce. I’d fully expected him to switch into stage-John the moment she appeared—buttoned-up and camera-ready. Smile. Wave. Play the part.
But he didn’t.