Chapter 20 #2
He turned toward her, not away. Let his hands drift across the table to catch hers. Intertwined their fingers, gentle and easy. Then he gave her one of his smiles—the rare, private kind.
They had a real connection. That much was obvious. And she was a knockout. One of those women no one could help but fall for. Confident. Composed. Impossible not to admire.
I mean, I wasn’t sure I’d say no.
If she and I were books, she’d be The Devil Wears Prada. I’d be Interview with the Vampire.
If she were a musician, she’d be Mariah Carey. I’d be The Cure.
We weren’t just different—we were opposites.
Which left me… jealous.
And ashamed of it.
Otis had been right. I liked John. The morally gray villain. The brooding nemesis in a shared writing competition. It was inevitable, wasn’t it?
Last night, I caught myself scrolling through pictures of him online. Replaying our conversations. It was honestly appalling how easily he’d gotten under my skin. How quickly I’d become a cliché. A character in a bad romcom.
But the truth was: John and I weren’t made of the same fabric. He was this—famous, polished, health insurance with a dental plan.
And I…was me. Nora. Girl with the bad attitude. Who ate social anxiety for breakfast and thought surely the next tattoo will fix all my problems.
Ridiculous. I was ridiculous.
Dangerously close to becoming one of his fangirls.
Nausea tightened in my gut.
“Sorry, I gotta…”
As soon as I stepped outside, I knew how it looked. Dramatic. Obvious. But if I’d stayed in there, my face would’ve cracked wide open. And acting wasn’t my skill set. That was Otis’s domain.
Vivian’s appearance had thrown me completely off balance. And that scared me.
A few cloudy breaths later, Otis appeared beside me, rubbing his hands together and curling his shoulders in against the chill.
“You forgot your jacket, love.”
“Shit.”
He paused. “What’s going on? Do you want us to go?”
I looked up at him, my best friend. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to leave. Go see the play, get drunk, forget John ever existed. But then I glanced over my shoulder at Jeremy, sitting alone now, looking at the seat Otis had left behind. And I looked back at Otis—whose smile was forced.
It didn’t matter that Jeremy was my direct competition.
It didn’t matter that I wanted to keep my Oatcake all to myself.
I could screw up my love life, but that didn’t give me the right to mess with his.
I pulled the tickets from my purse and pressed them into his hand.
“You and I both know that’s the last thing you want to do.”
Otis’s eyes widened. “If you want to go, we will.”
I pushed the paper slips firmer into his hand. “I know. But I’m no good company tonight. Honestly, I’m exhausted.” I fake yawned for effect.
Otis bit his lip. “I really like him.”
“Then go get yourself some juicy piece of English gentleman. I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?” he asked gently—soft in a way that said he'd ditch the whole night, take my hand, and drive me all the way back to Mom if that’s what I needed.
But what I needed...was space.
To think.
To breathe.
To figure out how to get John Kater out of my damn head.
“Yes. I’m fine. Gotta keep my eyes on the prize.”
Otis nodded, zipping up his jacket. “Your name on the game.”
“My focus on…a locus?” I tilted my head.
“Not the car I thought you’d buy with your first millionaire paycheck. Bit showy.”
I grinned. Otis was many things, but his true superpower was his ability to throw open the windows and blow the dark clouds out of my brain.
“How about I get your stuff for you? We can say you’ve left the country to become a stripper.”
“Tempting.” I raised a finger. “Or we say I had a headache and needed to rest.”
He sighed. “Boring. But fine. Be a minute.”
He vanished, then reappeared almost immediately. “They just asked for the check, so shoo. See you at the hotel?”
“Take your time,” I said.
Otis leaned in and gave me a wet peck on the cheek. “I have a feeling he’s a third-date-kiss kinda guy.”
Judging by the heart-shaped gleam in his eyes, we’d need a truckload of ice cream when they broke up.
After walking the pier for a good five minutes, I realized something important: I had no idea which hotel Otis had booked.
I was just pulling out my phone to call him when I saw them.
Like any respectable young woman would, I dove into the nearest alley.
John was handing Vivian her bag. They hadn’t seen me. Yet their footsteps were coming closer.
“You seem tense. I can call Giovanni to open the bar?” Her voice drifted toward me, even as I crouched next to a garbage bag.
“I’m tired,” John said. “I think I’ll head home.”
“I’ve missed you. You’ve been so occupied lately.”
I peeked around the corner just in time to see her heels click gracefully over cobblestones without getting stuck even once.
I’ve missed you.
That didn’t sound like a farce.
A sharp flash of memory hit me—John curled around me by the fireplace. His hands under my sweater in the shed. What would Vivian say if she knew about those moments? What exactly was their arrangement?
And then, a cold, creeping thought: Had John lied to me? Had he played me—charmed me—just for fun?
It could have been just a story. And he was a storyteller. Even if I’d seen better. Was he an unreliable narrator all along?
I watched them walk together. Not touching exactly—but close. Familiar. Like people who’d been together a long time.
My chest tightened. I shut my eyes, shame flooding through me. I’d let myself believe something was real.
Just as I turned to leave, I thought I heard my name.
“I can’t lose my focus right now.”
My heart jumped into my throat. What was he talking about?
They slowed. Vivian placed a manicured hand on his arm. “I don’t think you should be doing this. I think he’s being cruel.”
He? Who the hell was he?
I leaned forward, trying to piece it together, but it made no sense.
A rat ran across my foot and I nearly screamed.
“What?” I heard Vivian ask.
“Nothing.” A pause. “You’re right. Let me just drop my laptop off at home. I can’t relax while I’m literally dragging the book with me.”
Their footsteps moved on. And with them, a wild, terrible idea bloomed in my chest.
Maybe…it was time to play dirty.
Past-Nora would’ve called present-Nora completely unhinged. But future-Nora? Future-Nora would thank me.
So I followed them.
The universe was on my side. There was a small winter festival at the marina. A pond had been turned into an ice rink. People warmed their hands on steaming mugs. The crowd grew around me, and I vanished between tall shoulders and winter coats.
I kept just enough distance not to be spotted. Not close enough to trigger a restraining order.
Leaving the noise of the bandstand behind, I trailed them down a quieter stretch of the pier. John stopped at a boat—a boat—that looked big enough to host a reality show.
Fancy bastard.
They crossed a small gangway. Vivian waited while John unlocked the door.
With their backs turned, I ducked behind a ficus on a neighbor’s porch.
Not my proudest moment.
The marina wasn’t full of sleek yachts or party catamarans like I’d imagined.
These were floating homes. Real homes. One boat was classic white with round portholes; its neighbor was rust red with a rooftop deck.
Chimneys puffed lazy spirals of smoke into the night.
The moon shimmered across the water like something out of a poem.
Romantic. Cozy. Unfairly charming.
I watched John close the door, tuck his hands in his pockets, and follow Vivian back down the pier.
The boat didn’t sway as I stepped aboard.
I tried very hard not to look down into the inky blackness of Lake Michigan—which, let’s be honest, probably housed the majority of Chicago’s rat population.
A narrow ledge wrapped around the side of the houseboat, curving into a patio at the back. The wooden slats were slick with cold moisture, and my heeled boots skidded with every step. I gripped the side of the house, leaning toward the window.
In the pale moonlight, I could just make out a bookshelf near a small wood stove.
I shuffled sideways, carefully craning my neck to see toward the entrance. That had to be where he left the laptop.
Carefully stepping one leg around a plant pot, I tried to find a grip on the other side so I could sneak a peek into the living room. I just had to hope a window was unlocked.
And that there was no alarm system. And that his laptop had no password.
And maybe reassess every life decision I’ve made to end up here.
Because here I was. On John’s back porch. In the dark. Like some kind of weirdo.
I’d lost it.
This would 100% get me kicked out of the competition. Or arrested. Or both.
I was officially a joke. Desperate. Embarrassing.
I sighed and started shimmying backward the way I’d come—
The lights flicked on inside.
I froze.
The porch lights burst to life, illuminating me in full criminal glory just as John turned the key in the door and looked up.
He stared at me.
I stared at him.
Startled, I stepped back. Which… was a mistake.
Splash.