Chapter 6 #2
Fine.
Let them.
Because somewhere deep down, something old and uncomfortable twisted in my chest.
The part of me that still counted worth in titles and paychecks.
The part that remembered where I came from.
And how hard I’d worked to never be seen as less than again.
Mark clapped his hands together.
“Alright,” he said. “Lawyer or spy, she’s invited to the Cape.”
Tony grinned. “Just don’t let her sue me if you break her heart.”
I snorted. “Not happening.”
But something cold slid into my gut.
Because they weren’t wrong.
I didn’t know her address.
Didn’t know her friends.
Didn’t know where she went after work and before we met up.
Hell — I didn’t even know her last name until last week.
And underneath all that…
Something older stirred.
That old, ugly insecurity I kept buried.
The peeling cabinets.
Chef Boyardee dinners.
The nights the heat barely worked.
Grease under my nails.
The kid fixing cars for grocery money.
Not this version.
Not the tan and the watch and the “corporate hot” guy Tony liked to roast me about.
If she ever saw the before…
Would she still look at me the same?
Or would the spell break?
Mark clapped once.
“ANYWAY,” he said loudly, changing gears. “Speaking of boats. Cape run this weekend?”
I looked away not wanting to tell them I had plans Sunday playing a gig, so I went along all the while doing mental math on how I was going to pull both off.
Tony perked up instantly. “Yeah. Everyone’s in. Even Christy and Emma are coming.”
Mark and Chris straightened like dogs hearing a whistle.
“Oh hell yeah—”
Tony pointed at them. “Nope. Don’t. Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“They’re like my best friends from high school. Touch them and I drown you both.”
Beth laughed. “He means it too.”
Tony nodded. “I 100% mean it.”
Chris leaned toward me. “So Sage’s coming, right?”
“Yeah,” I said.
They all looked at me.
Same question in their faces.
Does she have anyone?
Anyone but you?
I opened my mouth to answer.
And realized—
I had nothing.
“Fine. Tonight. Our favorite bar. I’ll tell her to bring a friend. Will that shut you guys up?”
“Nope,” Tony smirked.
“Maybe,” Chris shrugged.
“Make sure her friend is hot, “ Mark countered.
I rolled my eyes, “Let’s get back to work.”
Back at work, feeling paranoid—I checked no one was around and opened Internet Explorer and head straight to AltaVista—the search engine everyone uses when Yahoo! doesn’t cut it.
I type her name: “Sage Colette Comeaux, Boston.”
Results are thin—some unrelated people, a few directory listings. Nothing that matches her glow.
Then the firm: “Hagan and Kane Law Boston”
The site loads—partner bios, no staff directory. No photo of her. No mention.
I try HotBot next, then Google (it’s getting popular fast).
Same story.
She’s a ghost. No online footprint. But then again I barely had one. I opened the cupboard above my desk opened the Yellowbook and searched by last name for her landline and address. I found her landline but her address wasn’t listed.
I stare at the Yellow Book longer than I should.
Her name.
Her landline.
No address.
Of course.
I shut the cupboard quietly, like it might tattle on me, then sit back in my chair and pretend to read an email while my pulse kicks up for no good reason. The office hums around me—keyboards, phones, the low murmur of associates pretending not to hate their lives.
Enough.
I pick up the phone on my desk.
Not my cell.
The office phone.
I dial her number from memory.
It rings twice.
“Ethan?” she answers, breathless, like I caught her mid-stride or mid-thought.
Something in my chest loosens.
“Hey,” I say. Then, without giving myself time to overthink it, “Change of plans tonight.”
A pause.
“I’m taking you out,” I continue. “We’re not doing the usual. I want to meet your friends.”
Her laugh is soft. Warm. Real.
She lowers her voice. I can hear the smile in it. “Okay. I’ll see who’s available.”
“Great,” I say. “Meet you there.”
We hang up before either of us can turn it into something heavier.
She shows up ten minutes late.
Worth it.
Sage steps into the bar like she always does—effortless, magnetic, making people look twice without trying. Black dress, heels that should be illegal, hair loose over her shoulders like she didn’t plan it that way but somehow nailed it anyway.
And she’s not alone.
The girl beside her is petite, brunette, dark-eyed, tan in that sunkissed way that looks expensive without being obvious. Shorter than Sage, softer curves, a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to announce itself.
Tony sees her before I do.
I watch it happen in real time.
His posture changes. Straightens. Locks in.
“Oh,” he murmurs. “Oh hellooo.”
“That’s Chloe,” Sage says when she reaches us, eyes sparkling like she knows exactly what she just did. “My friend.”
Tony’s already standing.
“Tony,” he says smoothly, sticking out his hand like this is a networking event and not a dive bar with sticky floors. “Boat owner. Occasional menace.”
Chloe laughs. It’s low. Easy. Dangerous.
And that’s it.
He’s done.
The rest of the night becomes a slow-motion car wreck of Tony trying everything.
Compliments.
Jokes.
Buying drinks.
Leaning just a little too close.
Switching tactics from charming to self-deprecating.
Back to charming again.
Chloe smiles. Engages. Listens.
But she doesn’t budge.
Not once.
She stays polite. Amused. Untouchable.
By the third drink, Tony leans over to me, defeated but impressed.
“Man,” he mutters, watching her laugh at something Chris says instead. “Her friend’s hot… but she won’t crack.”
“Let’s dance,” Sage announces, grabbing my hand.
By the fifth song, we’re all sweaty and half-laughing, half-shouting over the music.
Sage leans toward me. “Bathroom,” she says, nodding down the hall. Chloe follows her a second later, heels clicking as they disappear into the crowd.
And just like that, it’s only us.
The second they’re out of sight—
Chris slides in beside me like he’s been waiting for clearance.
“I’m calling it,” he says.
I sigh. “Oh no.”
“She’s an escort.”
I don’t even argue this time. “Chris—”
“No, listen,” he insists, already wound up. “She’s gotta be a fucking escort.”
Mark perks up instantly. “We’re doing theories? I’m in.”
“Chloe Christensen?” Chris continues, counting on his fingers like he’s building a legal case. “Come on. That is the fakest cover name I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s the most normal name on earth,” I say.
“Exactly,” Chris fires back. “Too normal. Suspiciously normal. Like something you pick off a hospital birth certificate wall.”
Tony finally tears his eyes off the hallway long enough to look at us.
“I don’t care what she is,” he says.
We all turn.
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I’d pay high for that.”
There’s a beat.
Then Mark loses it. “Of course you would.”
“Without hesitation,” Tony adds. “I have never been this attracted to another human being in my entire life. My brain has shut down.”
“You met her forty-five minutes ago,” I remind him.
“I’ve met people for years and felt nothing,” he says solemnly. “This is different.”
Chris points at him. “Man’s ready to refinance his life over a bathroom break.”
Tony watches the hallway again, unashamed. “She smiled at me. Like… intentional eye contact smiled. Do you know what that does to a man?”
“You’re down catastrophic,” Mark says.
“Medically,” Chris adds.
I shake my head, laughing despite myself.
Across the bar, Sage glances back toward our table like she knows exactly what nonsense she just unleashed by leaving us alone.
And for a moment, everything feels easy.
No mystery.
No overthinking.
Just my friends being idiots and the girl I can’t stop wanting standing a few feet away, smiling like I’m in on the joke.
Chris elbows me. “So if they turn out to be spies or escorts, we’re staging an intervention.”
“Shut up,” I say.
But I don’t stop smiling.
The after-party plan happens fast.
Tony, obviously.
“My boat,” he announces. “Harbor cruise. Let’s go.”
Beth checks her phone and groans. “I promised I’d swing by the firehouse. Sean’s on shift tonight.”
Chris claps once. “Cool, we’re out too. Early meeting at the gym. It’s back day.”
Mark nods like that’s deeply responsible behavior.
Which leaves—
Me.
Tony.
Sage.
Chloe.
I was pretty lit, Tony never seems drunk I wasn’t sure abut Chloe but I had bought Sage at least four rounds not sure how many fuckface had before I intervened. An after party on the boat was within walking distance. Crashing there was always our go to after a night out. See? We were responsible.
The four of us walking down the docks under yellow lights and salt air.
Wood creaking under our shoes. Masts clinking softly. Water slapping against hulls.
Tony’s practically vibrating.
This time he doesn’t even pretend he’s not loaded up with family money as he talks about the yacht and his ski house in the same breath.
He steps ahead of everyone like a tour guide. “Welcome aboard Artemis.”
He helps Chloe down first like she’s royalty. Offers his hand. Makes a whole show of it.
I glance at Sage. “Is she single? What’s her deal?”
She shrugs, smiling like it’s a private joke. “I don’t know. Chloe just does whatever she wants.”
“That’s… not helpful.”
She leans closer. “Stop worrying about Tony.”
Her hand slides into mine. Warm. Certain.
“Come here,” she murmurs.
And just like that, Tony stops existing.
We idle out into the harbor.
City lights shimmer on the water. The skyline looks fake, like a postcard.
Tony disappears into the galley and comes back with a bottle of champagne I didn’t even know he owned.
“Where the hell did you get that?” I ask.
“Emergency supplies,” he says, popping the cork like he’s in a movie.
He’s laying it on thick—blanket, glasses, the whole works.
Chloe laughs at everything he says, but it’s softer now. Closer.
They migrate toward the bow, wrapped together under the blanket like they’ve known each other longer than an hour.
Tony’s arm around her shoulders.