Grace Trisha - Sing For Me

Contents Dedication Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Author's Note About Author More Books

To Jesus, whose love exceeds all the romance in the world. To my darling husband who never fails to make me feel like a princess from a Disney story.

Prologue

Christopher’s hands were cold, and his heart was racing. The suit he was wearing couldn’t stop the tingling chill creeping right into his heart. Taking a deep breath, he walked out on stage. Standing in the middle of the stage, he was momentarily blinded by the spotlights shining directly at him. Before he was ready, the music started. He’d worked hard for this audition. He had one shot, that was it. He should focus on the music, but he couldn’t concentrate as he searched the audience for the one face. His mother and younger brother were somewhere backstage, but Chloe wanted to sit in the audience. He knew she was doing it for him. She couldn’t stand to be in crowded, noisy places, but still she insisted. He grinned when his eyes met Chloe’s. She beamed back at him and stuck her thumbs up while mouthing, You can do it. He nodded as the hard pounding in his chest slowed, and he concentrated on the words of the song. It was a heartbreaking song, a song Chloe had chosen for him. She had told him that the song suited his voice perfectly, and all he had to do was put his heart into it. He was only eighteen. He’d never had his heart broken, so he wasn’t sure how he should put his heart into such a sad song. When Chloe realized he was struggling, she told him to close his eyes and imagine the love of his life walking away with another man. “She was everything to you, but she’ll be gone forever now,” she had said. He opened his eyes and looked at Chloe. He imagined never seeing her again, imagined seeing her walk away handin-hand with someone else. Just the thought of it made his heart ache. That was when he heard the change in melody. It was time for him to sing, so he closed his eyes and allowed the words to flow out of him. Three sentences in, the first judge spun around in the bright red chair. Christopher’s first instinct was to look at Chloe, but he closed his eyes before he did. He couldn’t see her brilliant smile now. He’d forget all about the ache and the feelings he was supposed to put into the song. Halfway through the song, all the judges had chosen to turn around, just as Chloe had predicted. “You’ll win the competition. Once they hear your voice, all the judges will fight to have you on their team because all of them will know what I already know—you’ll win the competition.” When he completed the song, he looked over at Chloe and grinned. I told you so, she mouthed. He wanted so much to go into the audience and pull her into his arms. After all, he was only here because of her. “That was a brilliant performance. Tell us about yourself,” Scott Walker, the first judge who turned around, said. “I’m …” His chin jerked a few times, and he struggled to say his name. “Chrisss …” He looked over at Chloe. You can do it, she mouthed. He nodded slowly, took a deep breath, and tried again. “I’m Christopher … Hunter.”

Scott Walker narrowed his eyes. “Christopher, something tells me you have an interesting story.” He cast a brief glance at Chloe again and caught her nodding at him. “Since I could … speak, I’ve sss … struggled with … my stuttering.” Which was only getting worse with his nerves. “Wow,” another judge said. “That didn’t affect your singing in any way.” “That’s right,” the only female judge said. “You were truly amazing on stage. It was such a sincere performance. Were you singing to a particular someone?” He laughed nervously. His chin jerked a few times as he tried to speak. “Not really.” “So there’s a girl you imagined leaving you,” the female judge continued. He laughed again, not knowing what to say. “Oh, stop putting him on the spot already,” the last judge said. “Christopher, now you have a choice to make. Who will you choose to be your coach?” He already knew. He’d discussed it with Chloe. “It means … a … lot to me that … all of you turned around. But since … I can … only choose one, I’d have to go … with Scott Walker.” Cheers broke out from the crowd, and he took a step toward the front of the stage. He was tempted to go into the audience and get Chloe; he was worried about her. He couldn’t, though; he was intercepted by Scott Walker, who had stepped onto the stage to give him a hug. He relaxed and returned the hug after catching a glimpse of Chloe with her noise-canceling earphones on.

Chapter One

Chloe froze when she heard the song. Her hand lingered over the small cup of espresso while sugar continued pouring out through the metal spout. Actually, she recognized the color emitted by the song before she recognized the voice. The unique shade of a blend of pink and yellow wafted into the air; the unique shade of color that belonged to him. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. Italy’s cafes didn’t have the habit of playing hits from the U.S. She closed her eyes, simply so she didn’t have to look at his color floating around the cafe. It was so strange to hear that voice and see that color again. She hadn’t heard that voice in years, but it still had the same effect on her. The voice captivated her and catapulted her back in time, back to when she first heard the song on stage. “Chloe?” The cafe owner’s thick Italian accent pulled her from her thoughts, and she realized his fingers were over hers, tipping the sugar container back to an upright position. She blinked and looked at him. For a moment, both of their hands hovered before their faces, over the high glass counter that showcase the various sandwiches and fillings. When she didn’t move, the owner pressed his lips into a sympathetic smile, took the sugar container from her hand, and grabbed the cup of espresso. She blinked again and stared dazedly when he poured the smooth black liquid down the sink. The aroma from the espresso hit her, waking her senses. She was about to ask him what he was doing when he knocked the shot glass several times against the stainless steel sink to loosen the large amount of sugar stuck to the bottom of the clear glass. Without another look at her, he turned back to the black and silver machine before spinning around to wipe off the espresso that must have spilled from her glass. “Mi dispiace.” She apologized for the spilling and ruining the coffee. “Tutto bene?” Bright yellowish-orange words floated from the cafe owner’s lips. She swallowed and forced herself to look at the owner instead of following the bubble of color expanding and floating away from him. The words appeared like subtitles floating in mid-air. She didn’t need to read them to know what he was saying, but she was often tempted to gaze at the words. Even after going through years of therapy, it still took serious concentration to keep herself from getting distracted by the colors emitted by sounds. Now that she was older, she was better at controlling her reaction to the colors and words. It was still obvious to the observant few, like the cafe owner who was trying his best not to stare at her, that she wasn’t normal. At least now she knew she wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t imagining the colors or the words; they were as real for her as the sounds everyone heard. The only difference was people only heard the sounds while she was able to hear and see them. For her, sounds were accompanied by different shapes and colors. Synesthesia, scientists called it. “Chloe?”

“Si, si.” She smiled. The cafe owner narrowed his eyes as he handed her the freshly-prepared espresso. “Grazie.” She poured the sugar in, swirled the metal spoon around a couple of times, and downed the espresso right as the toaster beeped. Grabbing the handle of the grill, he held the cover over her sandwich for another minute before slotting it into a white sandwich bag. “Grazie,” she said again and frowned at the purplish color that floated away from her. That was her usual color. It suited her, she supposed. She was the melancholy sort, the sort who was unsociable and always trapped in her own mind. That was what her mother always said about her anyway. “Chloe, —” She assured him that she was all right and there was nothing to worry about. “Ciao.” “Ciao.” She glanced over her shoulder and waved as she exited the small cafe, smiling ruefully at the yellowish-orange bubble floating toward her. Some people seemed naturally blessed with a cheerful disposition. Behind the yellowish-orange was the color from the voice on the radio. The color caught up with her, swirling around the length of her body before bursting into glittering dust. She shook her head, refusing to think about about him. He had forgotten all about her, and they had both moved on. She sank her teeth into the crispy ciabatta bread and strode forward, keeping her eyes focused on the building ahead, on the classic off-white Roman columns and arches that characterized most buildings. There weren’t any high-rise buildings with glistening glass panels. All around her were low buildings of stone and marble. Dark gray lines had found their way onto many of the surfaces, but they only added more character to the structures that went back hundreds and thousands of years. The streets were quieter than usual, probably due to the chilling winter morning. She turned the corner, and without having to look down, she stepped over a dent in the uneven brick sidewalk. She ran her hand across a cool marble sculpture, one of the many in Rome. She loved all of them. Despite living in Rome for so many years, she still hadn’t gotten tired of them. As she strode along, she breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as the refreshing air filled her lungs. She loved winter mornings and never understood why people hated it. The lack of people, and therefore noise, in the morning was a bonus for her. She opened her eyes and reached into her bag as she felt her phone vibrating. Grinning at the screen, she took another bite of her sandwich and answered the call. “Chloe!” The cheerful, bubbly voice on her phone immediately made her smile. “Hi, Josh.” She blew at the bright yellow words that were right before her face, watching them warp and float away in the direction she’d blown in. “I’m calling to remind you that my birthday is coming soon and to let you know what I want for my birthday.” She hadn’t forgotten Josh’s birthday; she never did. He was like a brother to her. In many ways, he was the only family she had. “Your present is already on the way to your house.” “I haven’t received it, so it doesn’t count.” She laughed. “All right, so what do you want?” “You, at my birthday party.” “Are you having your party in Rome? Because you know that’s where I am.” “Come back, then. I’m having my party at my mom’s place. And according to her, your mom’s house won’t have a tenant for another three months.” She would rather stay in a hotel. “Why aren’t you having it at your own place?” “A few of my friends haven’t experienced the life and adventure of a small town, so we’re heading up there this year,” he said. “If you don’t want to rent your mom’s place, you can always stay with us. I’ll let you have my room.” She pinched her lips. “It’ll only be a couple of days.” “I’m sorry, Josh.” “Come on, you haven’t been back here for, what? Ten years?” “Eight. I’m not that old.” She had been back to the States; she just hadn’t gone back to the old neighborhood. “Come on, I haven’t seen you for the longest time.” She frowned at the gloomy blue bubble. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, why? Is my color all wrong again?” She would’ve asked even if she didn’t have this quirk. Josh knew she didn’t go back to the States unless work required her to do so. “It’s my birthday. You can’t deny my request.” Despite the lighthearted tone, a hint of blue remained in his voice. “You’re being ridiculous.” “I miss you, and my brother misses you.” The blue in his tone darkened significantly. Josh had always idolized Christopher, as many younger brothers did with their older brothers. Something must be wrong with Christopher. But that wasn’t her problem. She hadn’t heard from him since that night she left for London with her family. She wasn’t important enough for him to remember, not after he won the singing competition and became famous. “Chlo? You there?” “Yeah,” she said and cleared her throat. “I can’t, Josh. I’m … busy.” “Oh, please.” She could tell he was rolling his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know what a hotshot you are. Whatever you’re busy with, I’m sure you can get out of it.” She wasn’t sure about the hotshot part, but Josh was partially right. She chose to stay in Rome because no one knew her here. She needed peace to write her songs. They weren’t really her songs; she didn’t sing them. She just wrote them, and she had been successful enough for agents, singers, and producers to come bugging her for new songs and collaborations with new artists. Here, no one would disturb her, and she wouldn’t be a bother to anyone. “I’m sorry, Josh.” She didn’t want to go back, not to the old neighborhood. “Don’t say no yet. Promise me you’ll think about it.” She sighed softly at the pastel-blue bubble infused with yellow. She hated that color, that sadness filled with a tinge of hope. “Fine, I’ll think about it.” “All right. Go work on your next hit song.” “Bye.” “It’ll mean everything to me if you show up at my party.” “Don’t try to guilt me into going.” Josh laughed. “I’ll see you there, then.” “Bye,” she repeated and hung up the call. She took another bite of her sandwich as she made her way back to her rented apartment. She could always drop by L.A. and visit Josh there. There wasn’t a need for her to go back to the old neighborhood. Besides, she had already sent Josh his present anyway. She patted her hand against one of the two large stone columns that stood in front of the entrance to her apartment building and watched as tiny light gray marbles bounced and vibrated toward the stone carvings above her. “Chloe.” She stopped and blinked. “Jason?” Jason strode toward her in his black jacket that was zipped all the way up. “What are you doing here?” “I came to see you,” he said. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.” She should be happy to see him. Besides their Skype sessions, they hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months. “I just know how much you hate winter, that’s all.” She cocked her head toward the stairs as he got to her side. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold.” Winter did come earlier this year. “When are you leaving?” she asked as she stepped onto the red carpet overlaying the beige marble flooring. “I just got here and you’re chasing me away already?” he asked with a grin, without a hint of sadness. “I was just asking. I know how packed your schedule is.” He shrugged. “Making people famous isn’t easy.” Her lips curled, then she stopped walking and froze. “You just remembered.” Her lower jaw dropped and she struggled to form a sentence. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary— again.” Two years in a row, and they had only dated for two years. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason grinned. “I forgot about it, too.” She broke into a smile. “What’s today’s date?” “It was a week ago. I guess this is what makes us a great couple.” She laughed softly. They entered the lift, and Jason pressed the button to the third floor and shrugged. “Maybe if we aren’t so far apart all the time, you’d think about me more often.” “You know I love Rome. We’ve never been like normal couples who see each other on a weekly basis anyway.” Which was what she loved about their relationship; they gave each other space. “You said you like our arrangement.” She opened the door to her apartment and stepped in with Jason right behind her. “But I’ve been thinking, maybe I want more,” he said and closed the door behind her. She took off her jacket. “More?” Her gaze followed the dull yellow word that was surrounded by a halo of black. He took her hand and pulled her into the living room. “I want to see you more often. Why don’t you move back to the States? I’ll buy you a house if you want.” Different mixtures of colors rushed from his mouth. She hated such situations. The colors rushed by, bringing about a dizzy spell. She closed her eyes and rubbed her fingers against her forehead. “Getting another headache?” She took a deep breath and moved over to the couch. “What brought this on?” “Nothing,” he said. “I just miss you, and I wish I can see you more often. I wish I didn’t have to take a nearly ten-hour flight just to see you.” “We see each other when I’m in the States.” “You’re not there enough,” he said and paused. “I have to leave in a while, but I want to do this first.” “Do what?” She dropped her hand and opened her eyes. Jason stood, reached into his pocket, then got down on one knee. Chloe sprang to her feet. “What are you doing?” Jason’s eyes flitted to the side for a second, then he looked back at her. “What do you think I’m doing?” he asked with a wry smile while holding a black box in his hand. “Proposing?” “Yeah, that’s about right.” She took a step away from him. “We’ve only been dating for two years.” “That’s long enough for me.” Not for her. “No,” she said. Jason stood and stuffed the box back into his pocket. “Why not?” She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t give him an answer. Sighing, she shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s too fast.” “So it isn’t a no? It’s a I-need-to-think-about-it?” She took a deep breath. “Okay.” One of his shoulders twitched. “Think about it.” He took her hands. “I love you, and I want to be with you. I’ll do anything to be with you, except move to Rome,” he said and winked. “I have to be where the company is. I’m sure you understand.” She wasn’t going to leave Rome. “You can even stay in Rome if you want.” She frowned. “Then why can’t we just remain the way we are?” Jason didn’t feel that strongly about her. Whenever he talked about them, the color was never intense. “Because I want more,” he said while checking the time on his watch. The color of his words indicated otherwise. She couldn’t tell him that, though. She had never told Jason about her condition, so she didn’t want to have to explain how she knew his feelings for her weren’t intense enough for him to want more. “I have to go.” He walked toward the door. As he passed the dining table, he paused and picked up the black folder. “Working on songs that you won’t let anyone sing?” She took the file from him. “Are you keeping those songs for yourself? I can make it happen for you if you want,” he said and winked. “They aren’t for me.” He laughed softly. “All right.” He stopped right outside the door. “I’ll get myself to the airport. Remember to think

about what I said.” Jason leaned in to kiss her, but she turned away, and his kiss landed on her cheek. “See you soon.” She smiled and closed the door, leaning back against it. Did he fly all the way here just to propose to her? She sighed and looked down at the file she was hugging. She was supposed to think about Jason’s proposal, but all she could think of was her conversation with Josh. What should she do?

Chapter Two

A cool breeze swept across Chloe’s face as she got out of the taxi. The chill was more frosty in Dunsmuir. Even with the sun, the breeze tingled against her skin. She stood with her suitcase in hand and gazed up at the house’s Alice-blue wooden panels as the taxi drove away. She stared at the back of the taxi as it turned the bend, then returned her focus to the house in front of her. The house used to be in another shade of blue, a darker, more whimsical shade; and the window frames used to be white. Now, the frames were dark gray, just like the roof. She glanced around at the houses around her. The houses didn’t look as daunting; the trees didn’t appear as tall. One thing still felt the same, the feeling of being the odd-one-out. She still wasn’t sure what she was doing here. Sighing, she gave her suitcase a tug and dragged it across the broad driveway, each side flanked by a row of emerald green arborvitae trees. There used to be only four of them on each side, shielding the garage door from prying eyes. Now, the trees stretched all the way down the driveway and along the curve of the smaller walkway leading to the main door. She loved the added trees, of course. There probably wasn’t anyone staring at her, but having the tall trees around her made her feel covered and safe. When she got to the door, she hesitated for a moment. Her knuckles were almost touching the door, but she couldn’t bring herself to knock it. She wasn’t sure how long she stood outside the door, but another wave of icy breeze brought back the common sense that seemed to have ditched her. There was nowhere else for her to go. She couldn’t possibly call a cab and wait outside like an idiot. It was freezing. Besides, though she didn’t want to admit aloud, she’d prefer to avoid Jason; at least until she knew what to say to him. She knocked on the door and waited. When the door opened, she found herself looking up into the deep-sea blue eyes she hadn’t seen in eight years. Her heart rate picked up, and she forgot how to speak; she forgot how to breathe. She hadn’t been this close to him for a long time, but she could still remember how it felt to be in his arms. Whenever she was upset, whenever she didn’t know what to do with her pent-up frustration that grew too much for her to handle, she would go to him and he would always be there for her. With one of his arms pressed against the doorframe and another on the door handle, she almost took the one step to close the distance between them and rest her head against her shoulder, just as she’d always done. Licking her lips, she pressed her heel down while still staring at Christopher, and he looked right back at her, equally dumbfounded. She closed her eyes for a moment. There wasn’t a need to be nervous. No, she should be frustrated—no, she should be nonchalant. Adjusting her scarf, she cleared her throat. “Hi.” His chin tipped a few times before he said, “Hi.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” Christopher continued staring at her. “I’m here for Josh’s birthday party.” “He …” His chin tipped and jerked a few times. “He … went out … with his friends … to …” His stuttering seems to have gotten worse. Besides his eyes, everything about Christopher looked different. His hair was much longer than he’d ever kept it, and the growth around his jaws and cheeks aged him significantly. As she gazed into his eyes, she realized even his eyes were different. There was a sense of ruggedness, as if he were jaded with everything the world had to offer. “To get … camping equipment.” She gazed down at her scarf and fiddled with it. “Camping equipment? He invited me to his party.” “And you came.” She looked back at him. The three simple words sparked bright red. “He called and asked,” she returned in the same tone. He nodded, stepped aside for her to enter, then headed up the stairs. “Are you angry with me?” she asked when he was halfway up the stairs. He had no right to be; she should be the one sulking. Christopher licked his lips and shook his head. “You … you came back … for his birthday just … just because he asked.” “Yes, because he bothered to call and invite me. He bothered to pick up his phone and text or Skype me throughout the years.” Christopher turned back to her with a frown. “Are you … angry with me?” She threw her hands into the air. “Yes!” Bright red sparks popped into and disappeared from the living room. She didn’t know she was until this moment, and she couldn’t believe they were having a fight after having zero contact with each other for eight years. “You just left,” he said while he took two steps down. “You … just left.” “No, I didn’t. You let fame get to your head. I waited, every day, for your call or letter or something.” “Is everything all right?” Christopher’s mom, Mrs. Hunter, asked as she came down the stairs. “What’s going—Oh, Chlo! You’re back.” Mrs. Hunter shot him a glare, then gave her a tight hug. Mrs. Hunter released her from the hug and stepped back with the widest grin. “Where are you staying?” She hadn’t figured that out. “I’m sure there’s a hotel or bed and breakfast nearby.” Mrs. Hunter waved it off. “I’ll get you the key to your parents’ house.” “No,” she said. “I’d rather not. I don’t want to get you into trouble.” She knew Mrs. Hunter was keeping the key to her parents’ house, and her parents were paying her to make sure that the house stayed clean and to keep an eye on the tenants. “They’ll never find out.” Mrs. Hunter winked at her. “I don’t—” “I’ll get the key.” Christopher followed his mom up the stairs without another glance at her. She exhaled heavily through her mouth and turned away. What an absolute disgrace she’d made of herself. “Here you go.” She smiled and took the keys. “Thanks, Mrs. Hunter.” “You’re old enough to call me Amy,” she said and tilted her head to the side. “Are you all right? He’s been—” “I’m fine.” “I can’t believe you actually came back for Josh’s birthday. He told me about it, but I thought he was joking. Surely you knew he was joking.” She knew, but there was something in his voice when he talked about Christopher, and she was stupid enough to be concerned. She shrugged. “I was planning to come back anyway; not here, but I’m supposed to be in L.A. in a week.” “So who are you working with this time?” “I’m just meeting a friend for a chat.” She glanced up the empty stairway, then back at the door. “I should get going. I’m rather tired.” “Of course. You’ll join us for dinner, right?” Chloe laughed softly. “I’m old enough to call you Amy, but not old enough to take care of my own dinner.” Amy narrowed her eyes.

“I’m kidding. I think I’ll be sleeping, so I’ll give dinner a pass. But thanks anyway.” She waved the key in her hand and went out the door. “All right, have a good rest. Oh, here.” Amy reached into the turquoise glass bowl that looked exactly like the one she’d seen when she used to live here and pulled out another key. “You can use my car while you’re here.” “Are you sure?” Amy nodded. “I’ll be fine. If I need the car, I know where to find you.” “Thanks.” “And Chlo, when you’re free, you should check out the basement.”

Chloe yawned and stretched her back as she woke. She ran her hand through her hair while her stomach growled. Reaching over, she grabbed her cell phone to check the time. It was around dinnertime. There would be food at Amy’s house, but she didn’t want to see Christopher again. She sighed and pushed herself off the bed. She’d just drive out and get something to eat. A sense of dread crept up on her as she thought about that, but there wasn’t anything to be worried about. She would be in the car, no one would see her. She took a quick shower, changed, and left the house. She kept her head low as she headed to the car, just as she did when she got to the house. The neighbors had always looked at her weirdly, especially after her stay in the psychiatric hospital. Her mother’s loud tirades in public never helped either. Pulling the seat belt over herself, she remembered the place she used to escape to whenever she wanted to be away from everyone. A small open space by the river surrounded by firs and pines. She could almost see the scene now, see the colors caused by the water that sometimes streamed down from higher grounds and spilled out from among the trees into the river below. Sometimes she’d close her eyes and listen to the sound; sometimes she’d simply sit for hours and watch light, ethereal colors fill the place. It was her secret paradise. Her second place of refuge. The water in that part of the river was too strong for fishing, and the spot was off the usual tracks that hikers usually took. She and Christopher had discovered it by accident when they were young. The desire to see the place overtook her hunger, and she turned the car, wondering if her paradise had remained the same. She was hopeful. After all, in the short drive from her parents’ house, she noticed most of the houses looked the same. Even Mr. Bailey’s red beat-up car that had the most choppy engine was still parked outside his house. As she turned the car into the familiar road, she unbuckled her seatbelt, ready to park the car. That was when she noticed the road that cut into the woods. That road didn’t exist when she was living here. There was a hiking trail nearby, but not a road. She drove up to the road and noticed the sign, Private Property. Oh well, she wasn’t sure where this road led anyway, and she might end up lost. As she got out of the car, she pinched her lips and wondered if someone had built a house by the river. No, please don’t let that be true. That was her place. It wasn’t really hers, of course. She didn’t own the land, but she had always thought of it as hers—and Christopher’s. She tipped her head back and stretched her hands over her head as she took a deep breath. This was the one place in Dunsmuir she could relax. Here, she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t notice the strange stares people cast over their shoulders. Here, she didn’t have to ignore the murmurs about her sanity. She especially loved to hike through the trail in winter. Everything was so still, so quiet. She could always come here to escape the explosion of colors either from her parents or from the rest of the world. She could see the colors wafting around her as she got nearer to the river. The colors created by nature, despite how colorful they may be, were usually soothing. The colors didn’t carry any hint of darkness, and they always felt light and airy. Even in severe storms, the colors only got more intense, but they never gave her headaches or overwhelmed her.

The colors floated closer to her as she breathed in, and her smile broadened as the river finally came into sight. She missed this place so much, but as she stepped out from the trees, her heart sank. A modern rectangular two-story house stood right beside where she and Christopher used to lounge. Who built this house? She squinted from where she was, trying to peer into the house through the full-length clear glass panels that framed most of the house. She adjusted her scarf as heated air rose from her chest to her neck, but almost as instantly as the anger rose, it subsided while an aching sadness took over. I want to look out at the river while I write. She could almost see herself talking to Christopher as they sat by the river. That was years ago, when they were still young and naive. Who was she kidding? This wasn’t her place. It was simply a place she and Christopher escaped to. She shook her head as she thought about the row they had. It was so silly, so childish. He was no longer eighteen, and she wasn’t seventeen. Eight years had passed between them. She should’ve gotten over his disappearance from her life. They were only friends. He didn’t owe her anything. She looked back at the house and stuffed her hands into her jacket’s front pockets. She wished the house was hers. With all the glass windows, she could definitely write her song while gazing out at the river. She shook her head. She should let go of this place. She and Christopher had both moved on in life. And I want to have a balcony so I can spend all day sitting and gazing at the river. She walked right up to the edge of the river and looked toward the house. She hoped the owner built a balcony. It was such a beautiful place, and it deserved to have someone sit and admire its beauty every day. She broke into a small smile when she saw the balcony. At least the owner has taste. “What … are you … doing here?” She spun around, and the first thing she noticed was the deep-sea blue eyes.

It was so strange to see her standing by the house. Even after eight years, she still looked incredible. Her ginger hair contrasted against her fair skin, probably explaining the subtle glow he always felt she had. Then there were her eyes, he’d always loved how her light blue eyes gazed at him. They always seemed to look right into his soul. Maybe it was due to all the colors that were always trying to distract her. Whenever she focused, her gaze always felt penetrating. It wasn’t threatening or scary, though. She had always been accepting. While people usually shunned him or looked at him with pity in their eyes, she never did. His stuttering never bothered her. To her, that was just part of who he was. Her brows puckered as she stared at him. “Is this yours?” He blinked and his gaze followed her finger to the house. His chin jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he said after a moment. Her frown deepened and she shook her head. He wasn’t sure if she was angry or in disbelief, so he stood where he was while she turned to the house. “Why didn’t you call or write to me? You couldn’t be bothered to do that, but you built this house.” She turned back to him, and her eyes bore into his. “Why?” “Why did you just … leave?” “Why do you keep saying that?” She took a step toward him. “I didn’t just leave. I was seventeen; I didn’t have a choice. I explained everything in my letter.” “You knew … you knew you were … leaving. Why didn’t … you tell me … earlier?” “Because I didn’t want to distract you from the competition. You were so close to winning. I knew you could do it, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize your chances.” He studied her expression. He never understood her faith in him, but it never failed to warm his heart. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t get any letter.” Her gaze remained fixated on him. “Even if you didn’t see the letter I left you, I wrote another letter to you. Your mom said she handed it to your assistant.” He frowned. He couldn’t remember ever getting a letter from Chloe. He’d seen and replied to many letters from

fans, but never one from her. “I … I never … got anything from you.” She closed her eyes and one of her shoulders twitched. “Whatever, that was years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said as she strode toward him. She walked past him without giving him another glance. His chin jerked as he tried to speak. His stuttering always worked against him whenever he was in a hurry to speak. Chloe was always patient with him, but that was when she could see him struggling. She wasn’t looking at him now. Despite years of willing himself to forget her, he never did. Even with how busy he was, he couldn’t get her off his mind. It didn’t help that his most popular song was written by her. “Wait,” he finally managed, but it was too late. Chloe had disappeared into the woods. He could go after her, but his legs wouldn’t move. Running his hand through his hair, he looked at the house he’d built. All those times when he and Chloe had talked about their dream house by the river, he had a thought in the back of his mind. Once he had the money, he would build the house for her. Though he was angry with her for leaving without a word, he still went through with it. He wasn’t sure why. He’d only been here twice in eight years, once when it was first built and now. When he first built the house, he never thought it would be so hard to be here without Chloe. He stared at the woods. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed her to walk out of his life again, but what else could he do? He was a nobody now. Any day, the news would be released to the public. It would be better for Chloe not to have someone like him in her life. He rubbed his hand against his throat where a sudden dryness was causing his throat to itch.

Chapter Three

Chloe barely held back her groan when she opened the door to see Frank Cumming. The problem with small towns. “Hi, Chloe, I’m not sure if you remembered me.” Oh, she remembered him all right, along with all the nasty things he’d said about her. “I’m Frank.” She continued looking up at him, refusing to partake in the conversation he was steering her into. She’d never spoken to Frank before. All of their interactions were one-sided, with Frank yelling something stupid and ridiculous in her face each time they passed each other in school. “Don’t remember?” Frank scratched his head at her prolonged silence. “We went to school together.” She was certain Frank wanted something from her, probably something about a song. He was wasting his time, though; she wasn’t going to do any favor for him. One of her hand had remained behind the door, and she was about to slam it close when Frank slapped his hand against it. The sudden action, coupled with the sudden blinding light created from the sound, startled her. “I heard you’re a songwriter now.” She took a deep breath and put more force on the door, but Frank’s hand kept the door right where it was. She glared up at him, still refusing to speak. “What? You’re just going to stay silent? Looks like nothing’s changed.” That thought was mutual. “Look.” Frank ran his hand through his hair. “My band and I created a demo.” “Not interested.” “So you do have a voice.” She rolled her eyes and took a step back. She was determined to close the door this time, even if she had to press her entire body weight against it to do so, but Frank curled his hand under her arm and jerked her toward him. “Look, just because you had a hit, doesn’t give you the right to be arrogant.” She tried to pry her arm from his hand, but he tightened his fingers, pressing deeper into her arms. She kept her face straight, not allowing herself to show any pain. “And what gave you the right to be arrogant? Your brute strength? What are you going to do? Shout horrible things at me until I promise to listen to your demo?” “Listen, you crazy—” “I’m not crazy.” Frank scoffed. “Your own parents sent you to the loony bin.” She clenched her jaws to stop herself from shouting. The last thing she needed was to prove him right. “I’m not crazy.” “Let her go.” Chloe recognized the voice immediately. Frank looked over his shoulder and laughed. He released her hand and took a step toward Christopher. “Or what?” “Leave her alone.” Chloe pulled in her lower lip and turned to look into the house. She scanned the living room, searching for

something she could use to defend herself or help Christopher. A pop from behind her made her turn around, and she found Frank lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious. “Are you okay?” Christopher asked. She couldn’t stop staring at the unconscious Frank. “Chloe.” “I didn’t know you knew how to fight.” He remained at the end of the driveway, not taking a single step toward her. “Did he … hurt you?” She shook her head, and they looked at each other for a few seconds. She kept expecting him to walk over, but he didn’t. “Okay,” he finally said, then turned and strode away. Chloe blinked. She wasn’t sure how she should react, but she couldn’t believe Christopher would walk away from her after what just happened. She sighed, turned around, and closed the door behind her.

Hanging up her wet towel, Chloe went over and sat on her bed. She still didn’t know how to process what had just happened with Christopher. He claimed he hadn’t seen her letters. Even if he did miss them, she clearly wasn’t important enough for him to take the initiative to contact her. Josh had been in touch with her all these years, so Christopher could’ve easily gotten whatever information he wanted from him. But he didn’t. Yet when Frank came around, Christopher stepped in to protect her as he did when they were young. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath. She didn’t want to think about it anymore; she didn’t want to think about him. Frank was off her front porch, and she was leaving in the morning. None of this mattered anymore. She turned her attention to her old room.The outside of the house looked exactly the same, but her room was completely different. Her white veneer wooden bed frame, wardrobe, and chest of drawers had all been replaced. A larger dark brown wardrobe and bed frame now occupied the room. The things in her room, if they weren’t packed and sent to London, had all been discarded. She couldn’t be sure if her things were still in London either. She hadn’t stepped into that house for years, not since her mother threw her out. She tried to think of one good memory of this house. It shouldn’t be difficult, but it was. Shaking her head, she remembered what Amy had said, so she got up and trotted down the stairs to the basement. The moment the basement came into view, a corner of her lips hooked into a wry smile. She made her way toward the only thing in the basement, the brown box with the words ‘Chloe’s trophies’ written across one of the sides. “I knew it.” When she got to London, she noticed that the trophies she had won for her songwriting and piano competitions were missing. She had asked her parents about them, and they blamed the shipping company for losing the box. She knew in her heart that they were lying. She had always suspected that her mother didn’t bother to pack them. She knew how angry her mother was with her when they were moving to London. It wasn’t her fault that they had to move, but somehow it was. Her mother had moved everything necessary and sold whatever she didn’t want. She probably would have tried selling these trophies if they were worth anything. She remembered her mother going through her things when they were packing, then when they got to London, some of her things had disappeared. They were mainly things that her father had bought for her on his frequent business trips. She’d asked her mother about them as well, only to receive a curt reply about how obsessed she was with herself. She couldn’t understand why her mother refused to send these trophies over to London. She could be wrong, of course. Maybe her mother wasn’t trying to punish her; maybe it was an honest mistake. She sat on the uneven concrete floor, next to the box chucked in a corner. She pulled the box in front of her and swiped away the thin layer of dust on top of it. The box wasn’t sealed, so she’d expected to see tarnished, rusting trophies. Instead, besides the slight tarnish on a

few of them, they looked almost brand new. She smiled, realizing Amy must have been looking after them for her. If her mother thought hiding the trophies was a way to punish her, she was wrong. Chloe never cared much about the trophies. She felt great that she’d won first place in several piano competitions, but the trophies were also reminders of how her parents were never there for any of her competitions. Her father would always promise to attend, but he never showed up. Sometimes he would give her some lame excuses about meetings or traffic jams; most of the time, he would just pretend as if nothing happened. Amy always volunteered to take her to the competitions, and Josh and Christopher would always tag along. Christopher was the strong, silent type. Knowing he was in the audience always calmed her nerves, allowing her to do her best. Josh was always the loudest cheerleader. He didn’t care if the rest of the people in the audience would stare at him or send strange glances his way. He would jump up, clapping, shouting, and whistling whenever she won anything. Amy would always have her camera ready to snap shots of her on stage. During those moments, it always seemed all right that her parents didn’t bother to turn up. When she got back home, she would place the trophy on the shelf, and that was it. There would be nothing but silence from her parents. She didn’t dare talk about her competitions either, for that would only lead to a lecture on her neediness, what a horrible quality that was, and how selfish she was to only think about herself. What she’d always found most ridiculous was that despite their unwillingness to show up during the competitions, they seemed determined to sign her up for all the competitions available. If she were to even hint at how tiring it was to practice all those pieces, another lecture on selfishness and ungratefulness would follow. Perhaps that was the purpose, for her to be practicing all the time so she wouldn’t have time to bother them. She picked up one of the trophies and smiled even as tears fell from her eyes. She brushed the tears off the back of her hand and set the trophy down on the dusty floor. She had just taken five trophies out of the box when the doorbell rang. She headed up while wiping the remnants of her tears on her sleeves. Before opening the door, she took a deep breath. “Welcome home!” Josh opened his arms for a hug, then froze and frowned. “Are you all right?” “You.” She jabbed her index finger into Josh’s shoulder. “Happy birthday to me,” Josh sang his words as he walked in and settled on the couch. She folded her arms across her chest. “You asked me to come back for your birthday party. I don’t see a party.” “I’m going camping. You can come along. You’re always saying how the colors in nature are soothing.” She glared at him. “Okay, I’ll take that as a no.” He put his legs up on the coffee table. “I heard about what happened with Frank. Do you want me to stay?” She shook her head. “He’d scrambled off the porch the moment he regained consciousness. I’m sure word has spread that your brother knocked him out. He’ll be too embarrassed to come back here.” He nodded, his head rocking in a steady rhythm for a couple of seconds. “Have you been by the river?” “How do you know about the house?” “He’s my older brother. I used to follow him around all the time.” “So you used to stalk him?” He shrugged. “The two of you, actually. Since you guys were together all the time.” She rolled her eyes. “Coffee?” He shook his head. “I don’t think there’s food here.” She slumped onto the seat next to him. “I can buy some groceries for you tomorrow.” “I’ll be leaving in the morning.” “What?” Josh straightened, and the fleeting seriousness evident on his face when he asked if she was all right returned. “There is no party.” “You can’t leave.” “Why?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why did you even get me back here anyway? I hate this place.” “No you don’t; you just hate your parents.” “That’s such a grown-up thing to say.”

“Your parents are horrible people,” he said. “Why did you get me back here, Josh? Did you just want me to see the house by the river? Was that it?” Well, she’d seen it, but it didn’t clear anything up. “Have you seen the video?” Josh asked, his voice turning dark purple. Chloe looked at him. The solemness in his tone and expression was startling, and it suddenly dawned on her that Josh was no longer just Christopher’s goofy younger brother. “Have you?” “We’re all grown up now,” she said and leaned back against the couch. “Chloe.” “What video?” Josh pulled out his cell phone and tapped away on it. She looked up at the ceiling. It was time to let go. It didn’t matter how her parents treated her; it didn’t matter that Christopher had forgotten about her once he got famous. She shouldn’t have expected him to remember her in the first place. They were all grown-ups now. She had to stop allowing herself to dwell in the past. “Here.” Josh pushed the phone toward her. She took the phone and watched the two-minute video of a rather drunk Christopher forgetting what a tune was. He didn’t just mess up the tune to his song; he wasn’t even singing. He was making noise. Even the colors coming out of him were all wrong, nothing like the color she associated him with. “What happened? Did someone drug him?” Josh laughed. “Your mind works in the funniest way.” She shot him another glare. “He’s an alcoholic.” She started shaking her head, but the gravity of the situation was obvious on Josh’s face. “How long has he been an alcoholic?” “He started drinking around a year after winning the competition. I didn’t think it was that bad until last year. He hid it rather well.” “Then what’s this?” “This happened last month.” Josh took back the phone from her and placed it on the coffee table. “The company forced him into rehab, and he checked himself out last week.” “He didn’t look drunk to me. He looked homeless, but not drunk.” “I don’t think he’s been drinking, not since rehab at least. But it may be too late. His record label is dropping him.” “Why? If he’s stopped drinking, it shouldn’t matter. I mean, how many stars are—” “He lost his voice.” She looked to the side where a gloomy grayish-purple cloud just passed her. Lost his voice? “What do you mean, he lost his voice?” She had just spoken to Christopher a while ago, and he was speaking the way he usually did. “I know his stuttering seemed to have gotten worse, but his stuttering never affected his singing.” It was something as strange as her condition. He stuttered whenever he spoke, but never when he was singing. She still remembered the first time she heard him sing. She couldn’t believe that was his voice. The glowing yellow that was close to gold burst into glitter-like powder upon her touch, then gently wafted down the length of her hand, coating it. There wasn’t an actual sensation, but that was how the color behaved. When she closed her eyes, she could feel his voice wrapping itself around her, sinking right into her heart. She imagined that was how his singing voice affected everyone, which probably explained why everyone, even the other judges with their own team of singers, wanted him to win. “His stuttering has gotten worse, but it isn’t about that. He hasn’t been able to sing. You saw the video; that’s how he’s singing now—if you call that singing.” “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way—” “You have to stay. You can get his voice back, I know you can.” She pursed her lips, and her head tipped to the side. “Don’t look at me like a silly fan fantasizing over the impossible. I know him, and I know you. I know you can get him to sing again.” “I’m not God, Josh.”

“I know, but I just know you can do it.” “He doesn’t need me. He needs someone to believe in him.” “Right, and you do.” She rolled her eyes. “And you don’t?” “I do,” Josh said. “But you’re the one he needs.” “What can I do?” “I don’t know. But if you stay, I know he’ll be fine.” She shook her head and stood. “Do you hear yourself? What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.” “Are you still pissed off with him? Is that why you don’t want to stay?” Josh shot her a glare. “Seriously, it’s been eight years. Both of you need to get over it. You guys have been friends, best friends, since you’ve known each other. Is it really that important for both of you to hold on to whatever made you guys stop talking to each other?” Chloe blinked. She couldn’t believe she was receiving a lecture from Josh. “Just promise you’ll stay. That’s what I want for my birthday present.” “Seriously? You dare to use that excuse one more time—” “Please, Chlo, I’m begging you.” She sighed and tipped her head back. “I don’t know why—” “Chlo, please.” “Oh, all right. I’ll stay.” She raised her index finger. “But please don’t think anything special will happen just because I stay.” Josh got up and pulled her into a hug that lifted her feet off the floor. “Josh.” “Thanks.” He set her down and grinned. “You’re the best.” “I’m not getting you any birthday present for the next three years.” His grin broadened. “Deal.”

“Chris, Chloe’s downstairs.” Christopher ran his hand through his hair and jumped out of bed as his mom turned and left his room. He hurried into the bathroom, just as he did whenever Chloe dropped by. An excitement always propelled him out of bed to get ready before dashing down to meet her. Only when he saw his reflection in the mirror did he realize he wasn’t eighteen anymore. He splashed the icy water onto his face to wake himself from his daydream. There wouldn’t be a smiling Chloe waiting for him to spend the day together. What was she doing here anyway? He opened the cabinet that had his shaver. After shaving, he washed up, then pulled on a T-shirt before heading downstairs. Chloe broke into a small smile when she saw him, which was a relief to him. He was beginning to think it was stupid of him to try and look good for her. “Where’s your jacket?” she asked. “It’s cold outside.” “Are we going out?” She shrugged. “If you want to.” He watched her for a moment, trying to determine if he were dreaming. They didn’t end things well yesterday. It didn’t make sense that she was here, smiling at him and waiting for him to head out and spend the day with her. “Did you fall asleep while standing?” He shook his head. “So? Do you want to join me for a walk?” A walk. She probably just had some things to tell him. “I’ll grab my coat.” He went back to his room, got his coat, and hurried back down. Chloe opened the door and headed out. “I much prefer your clean-shaven face.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m curious about the house,” she said when he got next to her. “Will you show me the place?” “Yeah.” “What?” she asked. “I can tell you want to ask me something.” “I thought you were … angry with me.” “I was.”

“And now you’re not?” She stopped walking and turned to him. “It’s been eight years.” She shook her head and laughed softly. “Even Josh is all grown up. I think I’ve been angry long enough.” “You saw Josh.” “He’s the reason I’m here.” Christopher could almost taste the sourness in his mouth as he nodded and continued walking. “I know you didn’t see the letters, but I did write to you. When you didn’t reply, I just thought …” She sighed and shrugged. “I don’t have any proof that I left a letter for you. You just have to take my word for it.” He grinned. “Okay.” “So we’re no longer angry with each other?” “The … first thing I did … after winning was to … look for you.” She pursed and released her lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to watch the results. I promise it’ll be the first thing I do once the plane lands. But even without watching, I know in my heart that you’ll win. I’m proud to have you as a friend. Lots of love, Chloe.” She grinned when he did. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think that was what I wrote.” His grin broadened as he shook his head. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed his petty anger to keep him from contacting Chloe for eight years. Eight years! “But you still could’ve contacted me.” He gave her a wry smile. “I guess I was … angry. That whole day, I couldn’t wait … for the competition to be over. And when it was … you weren’t there.” “Couldn’t wait for it to be over? Why?” He closed the distance between them. “Because I wanted to do this.” He raised his hand and cupped it against her cheek. She tilted her head slightly, leaning into his hand. With a soft tug, he pulled her face close to his. He took a deep breath and bent over her as his heart pounded away. When his lips touched hers, a wave of energy exploded within him. He weaved his hand into her hair and pulled her closer. She tasted like strawberry and sunlight. He had waited eight years to do this, and he couldn’t have enough of her. Chloe’s hands moved up his arms, and he kneaded her neck as his thumb rubbed against her lower jaw. She moaned softly, and that sound took his breath away. He tightened his hand around her waist, but she suddenly broke from the kiss and pushed him away. She held her hands out as if she were afraid of him while her chest rose and fell rapidly. “I have a boyfriend.” “Right.” Of course she did. She was now the most sought-after songwriter. Everyone wanted to work with her. Having a song written by her was considered a guaranteed success. He was nothing now. How could he even think she’d consider being with him? “Right.” “Yeah,” she said and turned away from him. “Let’s head to the river.”

Chapter Four

Chloe placed her hands by the sides of her face and pressed against the glass window. She closed her eyes and licked her lips. When Christopher’s warm hand cupped against her face, she couldn’t think of anything else. His touch was so soothing, so familiar. When his lips touched hers, the kiss that melted all the tension and space they’d put between them. She pursed her lips and her chest rose when she remembered the moment he deepened the kiss, the pressure of his hand against the back of her head while she laid her hand on his chest and felt the same wild thump of his heart. How could one kiss be so sweet, alluring, and passionate? Regardless, she shouldn’t have kissed him back, and she certainly shouldn’t have pushed him away and made her declaration of having a boyfriend; a boyfriend whom she remembered only when she racked her brain for a justification for pushing Christopher away. For the first few minutes after that, they strolled along in a rather awkward silence. Thankfully, they had always been comfortable with silence and with each other. She stepped back from the glass when she heard the click of a door’s lock. “Here.” He pushed the door open and cocked his head to the side. She entered the house and looked around. “It’s beautiful.” She walked over to the long windows facing the river. “It’s gorgeous; it’s just like I imagined.” She turned and found him watching her with a grin. “What?” He walked over and dropped the key onto her hand. “It’s yours.” “What? You can’t be serious.” She stared at the intense and steadfast color of the slow moving words that Christopher had just spoken. “You’re serious.” “Everything’s fully paid.” She slipped her finger through the key ring and stared at the dangling key. “We used to tell each other everything. Can we still do that?” He nodded. “I heard the record company dropped you.” “It hasn’t been officially … announced, but I … believe the news will be … out any time.” His pinkish-yellow words were tainted with an undertone of olive green. “And I heard you lost your voice.” “Josh told you that?” She shrugged. “Is that true?” “I can’t … sing anymore.” “Then what are you going to do for money?” “I still have some.” “But you’ll run out sooner or later.” She looked around before turning to him. “Why don’t you sell the house to me instead?” “No, it’s yours.” She almost rolled her eyes.

“You’re the reason … I won … the competition and had a … bestselling album.” She frowned. “Is that what you think? Is that why you want to give me this house?” “I want to … give you this house because … I want to. I built it … for you.” “You built it for me?” “I know you can pro … probably afford your own … place now. But … at that time I … had the childish thought … that with this house, you … don’t have to stay with your parents … anymore.” She grinned when the olive green disappeared from his words. “What …” His chin jerked uncontrollably. “Thank you.” She hated it whenever she saw him struggling with his words. “You don’t have to rush your words with me. I’ll wait for you to speak, you know that, right?” He looked right into her eyes without a word, and for a moment she felt herself getting pulled toward him. She took a deep breath and blinked as she turned from him. You have a boyfriend, she reminded herself. “I’ll show you the … rest of the house.” With another glance at the key, she stuffed it into her pocket and followed him upstairs. She looked down at the spacious living room as she made her way up. She loved the large light gray couch sitting in the middle of the room. She wasn’t someone who held gatherings or parties, but she couldn’t wait to laze an afternoon away on that couch. He paused outside a room and opened the door. “Your office.” He ushered her into the room. She stepped toward the long wooden table with a light birch top with dark walnut frame. “I want a long table that will have nothing on it besides my pencil and paper,” she said while she ran her fingers across the surface of the table. “Your chair is … facing the river so you can write while … staring at it.” She leaned closer to the glass. “It’s soundproof.” “So are the walls and door.” She looked out at the river rushing by, but there weren’t any colors. He stood beside her and stared out of the window. “The colors are soothing, but they can be distracting.” “You remembered everything I said.” He grinned and placed his hand on her back. The warmth from his hand radiated across the surface of her skin. She didn’t remember being this sensitive to his touch, and she shouldn’t be. “Your home studio,” he said, leading her to another room. “A place for you to … work. This room is soundproofed as well.” “And there’s all the equipment I need.” She went over to the microphone and switched it on, trying to distract herself from thoughts of his hand on her back. “It’s connected to that, right?” She pointed to the earphones. Christopher nodded. She went over and sat on the chair while putting the earphones in place. “Sing for me.” His brows drew closer as his head tilted slightly to the side. “I can’t. You … know I can’t.” Again with the olive green. “That’s because you were drunk.” “I’m not anymore … but I still … can’t sing.” “Will you try? Please?” She blinked twice and flashed her sweetest smile. “It’s not going to work.” “What isn’t going to work?” “You begging me to … do things for you,” he said. “You did this when you … wanted me to join the … competition.” “And you joined, and you won. I knew you’d win right from the start.” Just as she knew he couldn’t have lost his voice. She pointed to the microphone. “Please?” “What if I can’t … can’t sing anymore?” She pulled off her earphones. “Do you remember the first time we met?” He nodded, but he didn’t say anything. “You saw my mother berating me in front of the whole neighborhood for being a crybaby.” She had told her mother that she needed a signature on a consent form. Her mother proceeded to go crazy on her for being rude and inconsiderate and for not having the basic manners of waiting until she was in a better mood.

Technically, her mother said she should have waited for her to be free. Chloe always did that. She had already peeked into the room, and her mother was sitting in front of her dresser, not doing anything. When her mother started shouting, Chloe escaped out of the house, thinking that getting out of her mother’s sight would resolve the situation. It did not, of course. Her mother went after her, shouting at her all the way. “Then you came over and shouted at my mom to stop.” She grinned. “No one ever stood up for me that way. I still remember how bad I felt when your mom came over and made you apologize.” “My mom only pretended … to be angry with me. I actually … got ice cream for standing up for … you.” “Aah.” That explained why the colors were so weird. “Why did she pretend to be angry with you?” One of his shoulders twitched upwards. She squinted and leaned forward. “Why did your mom make you apologize?” He sighed softly. “Because she was afraid I’d … made things worse for you.” She swallowed as her tears welled. “Don’t cry.” He went over and knelt in front of her. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not going to cry.” She gave him a hug, leaning her head against his shoulder. His shoulder was broader and a lot stronger than she remembered. When she realized what she was thinking, she shook her head and straightened. “Thank you,” she said. “And I’ve always loved you for who you are, not because of your voice.” She sniffed. “So Chris, whether you choose to sing or not, it doesn’t matter to me.” “It isn’t about choice.” She shrugged, took his hand, and pulled him back to the microphone. “Please.” His eyes slitted. Please, she mouthed. She wasn’t sure if she should be pushing him like this. She wouldn’t mind if he never sang again, but Christopher had always been proud of his voice. She didn’t want him to lose something he was proud of. “Please.” He cracked a small smile, and she grinned and returned to her seat.

Christopher couldn’t take his eyes off Chloe’s smile. There had always been something about her, and he’d always loved her, too. He only wished she loved him the way he loved her. He knew it was impossible. He was eight years too late, and she was with someone now. Even if there was a chance, he had no right to pursue it, not anymore. He wished the kiss hadn’t ended; he wished it could go on forever, but he shouldn’t have kissed her. He cleared his throat before he lost himself in a daydream. “I’ll try … but I can’t promise anything.” He moved behind the microphone. “You can do it.” He believed her whenever she said he could do anything. When she told him she was confident he would win the competition, he believed her. There was no reason to, but he did. His mom had always told him that he sang well, but all mothers thought the best of their children, except Chloe’s. “All I’m asking is for you to try.” She put the earphones back in place and gestured for him to go ahead. He inhaled deeply through his nose and opened his mouth. A sound came out, but it was nowhere near a note. He shook his head, then turned and walked out of the room without looking at Chloe. His throat burnt, and thoughts of how drinking would remove all his problems surfaced. The thoughts were wrong, of course. He was in this position because of alcohol, but still, that knowledge didn’t help. “Chris, wait.” “I … I told you … I can’t.” The corners of her lips twitched. “And that’s okay.” He looked at her for a moment. “You’ll get your voice back. Maybe not now, but you will.” She widened her grin. “Why are you so … sure?” She shrugged. “I just believe you will, and Josh seems to think so as well.”

“Is that why … you’re here? Because of … Josh?” Her eyes slitted. “You … don’t have to fix me, you know.” The dull burning in his throat raged again. He was so embarrassed with himself. Chloe had always been left alone to resolve her own problems. Her parents were often too busy with being bitter with each other to offer her any help or encouragement. He didn’t want to be one of those problems she had to solve. “I’m here because you’re my friend. Besides, you’re the reason I got to go to the best music school on a scholarship.” He arched his brow. “I didn’t do … anything.” “You made my song popular.” She waved it off. “Forget about that.” She turned and took a step away from him, and he reached out and took her hand. “Chlo, I’m so … sorry.” She frowned. “It’s all right. I didn’t expect you to sing right away.” “I’m not referring to that.” “Then what are you apologizing for?” “For being … childish and petty. Between us … you shouldn’t have to … to be the parent.” She laughed softly. “Chris—” “I was so stupid. I … shouldn’t have allowed my … anger and disappointment to get be … between us. Then … after all these years, you … still had to … make the first move.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “We were both stupid. Let’s just forget about that and move on, all right?” He nodded. He wanted to ask her about her school, about how her life had been, but he knew he wouldn’t get much of an answer. She would try, but he was rather sure that the answer would be a simple ‘fine’ or ‘great.’ Throughout her life, she had learned to shut her feelings within herself instead of expressing them. It was the only way she could survive her family. If she didn’t have her guard up, she might let her mother’s words get to her. He’d heard some of the cruel things her mother said to her and to others: “She’s nothing but a crybaby, and crybabies will never achieve anything in life. “Look, there she is, trapped in her own world and being antisocial again. “Oh, there she goes with the thing about colors. Her illness can be so exhausting.” He could go on forever, so he wasn’t surprised by the damage done. He hated it whenever she tucked her thoughts and feelings away, but it wasn’t really her choice. She wasn’t trying to be difficult or mysterious. It was simply because she’d learned to keep her feelings to herself so much that she seemed to have forgotten how to voice her inner-most feelings. He had watched when she tried to tell him something that upset her. She would open her mouth to speak, but no voice would come out of her. She would try a couple of times, then she would give up. After that, she would close her eyes and take a deep breath to suppress her emotions instead. It always ached his heart when she did that. He brushed the back of his index finger down her cheek. For now, he would keep his questions to himself. When she was ready, she would tell him, or she would pour out her thoughts in a letter and give it to him. She was always better at penning her feelings instead of speaking them, which probably explained why the songs she wrote always connected with the listeners’ hearts. Chloe tilted her face to the side and gently slipped her hand from his as she turned away from him. He looked down at his hand as irrational thoughts of pulling her back consumed him. “I think you’ve lost the heart to sing. Your color is different when you talk about singing. There’s a dullness, like a sickness.” “So I’m sick?” “Sick of singing, maybe.” She walked on to the next room. “Why did you start drinking?” He’d thought about that a lot, and he’d been asked that question several times at the rehabilitation center. He had come up with several explanations to defend his fall into alcohol addiction, but there was one he never said aloud. “I was weak.” Chloe stopped outside the next room and looked at him without a hint of judgment. He gave her a wry smile and continued, “Alcohol was around all the time.” After a successful album, the company always threw a party. Every time an artist hit a chart, every time someone

signed a contract, every time there was any form of success or even just a hint of success, there would be a party. Not to mention all the other parties thrown by other singers; parties he was obligated to attend. Then there were all those award shows that were all followed by after-parties. “You didn’t used to drink.” “It didn’t seem right to keep refusing people.” Her head bobbed up and down slowly. “Then why did you check yourself out of rehab?” “All they want to do is talk and … talk.” She laughed softly. “I can understand how you’d hate that, but it works, right? People go through rehab all the time.” He arched a brow. “So you’re a … talker now.” “My therapist says I should talk more and learn to voice my feelings.” She paused, her gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s difficult for me, but logically, I think my therapist is right.” “You have a therapist.” “A long time ago. I went for several sessions before starting school,” she said. “And you’re talking to me now.” “I don’t like to talk … with people I don’t know.” Actually, he didn’t like to talk about it to anyone. He hadn’t even discussed what had happened with his mom or Josh. “I hope you won’t drink again. People change when they drink, and I like you just the way you are without the alcohol.” How was it that her words always made him feel like a superhero, even when it was about the very thing that brought his downfall? He moved closer with the sole intent of kissing her, but he managed to rein in his impulse before he actually leaned toward her. He stopped next to her and exhaled heavily while staring at the room. “Your bedroom.” He waved his hand to direct her attention. “It’s fully furnished, so you don’t have to stay at your mom’s place if you don’t want to. You can stay here.” Chloe pulled in her lower lip. “This is your house, your … bedroom.” The house was built for her; it was always meant to be hers. Perhaps that was why he found it so difficult to even look at the house when he first came here after it was built. With Chloe beside him, everything felt right. She watched him for a moment, seemingly considering her words, then her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “Show me the rest of the house.” He narrowed his eyes, but she was already out of the room. After a tour of the house, she locked the house and dropped the key onto his palm. “I’m not taking the house,” she said before he could open his mouth. “Chlo—” “But …” She smiled and continued, “When you’re successful again, I’ll accept it. Until then, you keep it.” “Chlo—” “I’ve made up my mind.” She grinned. “I love this place; it’s beautiful. But I refuse to take it unless you’re back on your feet again.” “Then how about this? Stay here temporarily. I’m … sure you’ll prefer this house to your … parents’.” “Hmm … You make a good bargain.” “You know you want to.” She cocked her head to the side. “Come on, let’s go back. I’m starving, and your mom promised lunch.”

Chapter Five

Chloe and Christopher got back to the house and found a reporter and cameraman waiting outside Amy’s house. The blonde reporter sprinted over in her black heels with the cameraman right behind her. “Christopher Hunter, your neighbor, Frank Cumming, has accused you of going on a drunkard rampage. He said you’ve punched him for no apparent reason.” Chloe cringed. This was the last thing Christopher needed. “That wasn’t what happened.” Christopher turned to her, his head swaying left and right. “Then tell us what happened.” The reporter jammed the microphone toward her. Christopher stretched his arm protectively in front of her and pushed her behind him. “No comments.” Then he took her hand and pulled her forward, nudging her toward the house while using his body to block the reporter and cameraman from getting too close to her. Chloe half ran into the house. Now she understood the need for the arborvitae trees. “I’m so sorry,” she said the moment Christopher closed the door behind her. “Frank’s despicable.” “He always has been.” “I’m so sorry.” “It wasn’t your fault.” He moved to the window and pulled the curtains across it. “What are you doing?” Amy asked with a wooden spoon in one hand. “Why are the two of you looking so flustered?” Chloe explained what happened. “Frank.” Amy’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have a word with his mother.” Chloe pursed her lips, but ended up laughing anyway. “Forget it.” Christopher rammed the side of his fist against the wall and headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Chloe blinked, staring at Christopher’s back as he disappeared up the stairs, then she turned to Amy. Amy waved it off. “Let him be.” She’d never seen him like this before. She gave Amy a smile and went after Christopher. Christopher laid in bed with headphones similar to hers. His eyes were closed, and his arms over his forehead. She sat on the bed and pulled the headphones off. “What happened?” “You saw what ha … happened.” “What are you truly angry about? I’m sure it isn’t over Frank. He’s always been a bully, and I’ve never seen you react like this.” “Maybe that’s because … we haven’t seen each other in eight years.” She licked her lips and stood. He clearly didn’t want her anywhere near him, but she stopped when she felt his hand grabbing hers. “I’m sorry … I …” She looked back at him. “Do you think I got you into trouble with Frank and the media? I know—” “It isn’t your fault.” He sat up on bed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just annoying.” “What is?” His chest rose steadily as he drew in a deep breath, then collapsed. “Whatever I do, it is never … good enough.” “What makes you think that?”

“Whatever I do … the media always has something negative … to say.” “That’s their job. Negative news sells.” He sighed again. “I think I’m an … honest person.” “You are,” she said. “And you’re sincere; you always try to do your best.” “But they always have to twist … it. I hate … hearing or reading all … the nonsense about myself. Sometimes I get … so tired of being the good … guy.” She nodded and sat next to him. “Don’t listen or read any of them. They can write whatever you want. If it isn’t true, then ignore it. You know who you are, what kind of person you are. Don’t change for people who aren’t relevant to you. I like you just the way you are.” “What if I don’t what kind of person I am?” She smiled. “Then you give me a call, and I’ll tell you who you are. Unless you’ve changed so much in the eight years that we’ve been apart.” He stared right into her eyes for a moment. “You won’t want to hear about all the things … I’ve done in the past eight years, especially when I started … drinking.” “I don’t have to. Whatever you became when you were drunk, that was the alcohol. It wasn’t you.” “How do you know?” “I just do.” Christopher finally wiped off the frown and replaced it with a smile. “I’m really sorry about the trouble, especially when your label is considering dropping you.” Josh thought her presence would help Christopher sing again, but her presence was bringing nothing but trouble for Christopher. “Hey.” He tightened his grip on her hand, which was when she noticed their hands were still together. “It isn’t your fault. This … whole thing is Frank’s doing. He’s probably … trying to get his fifteen … minutes of fame.” She nodded. “Besides, the decision with the label is made. Nothing is going to change it.” “Lunch?” Chloe looked over at Amy. “Yes, please.” She didn’t want to think about what had happened anymore. Seated at the table, Chloe jabbed her fork into a piece of sausage and smiled when strands of spaghetti came up along with it. Amy always poked strands of dried spaghetti through each piece of sausage before boiling them together. As kids, they’d always loved it. It seemed silly that Amy was still doing that now, but Chloe had always liked being around Amy because she never had to be the adult when she was with her. She looked up at Christopher when she felt him staring. “Yes, she still does this every time she cooks spaghetti.” “What’s wrong with that?” Amy asked. “You used to love it.” “I still do,” she said. “I think it’s cute.” Amy walked over to her and gave her a kiss on her hair. “Girls are always so much more appreciative.” She went around the table and sat across from her. “I saw an article about you once. It said you only work with singers whom you can connect with because that’s the only way you can tailor a song for them. Is that because of your synesthesia?” “Article about me?” She never gave any interviews. She loved writing songs because she remained behind the scenes. “It was actually about a young singer.” Amy snapped her fingers three times in quick succession. “I can’t remember her name, but she mentioned you in the article.” She nodded; that made more sense. “That’s true. If I don’t know the person, how am I supposed to write something that he or she can sing with her heart?” “I thought it was because of the colors. You said everyone has a color.” “True.” Her condition did help; the right melody always matched the color of the singer’s voice. “Why do you only write love songs? You must’ve had many amazing relationships for you to write all those songs.” Chloe laughed softly. “Those songs are based on the singers’ love stories, not mine.” “Of course, of course.” Amy stuck her fork into a piece of sausage and twirled it. “So are you working on anything right now? Dating anyone?” “Mom, let her eat … in peace.” “I haven’t seen her for the longest time, so of course I have questions.” Amy leaned forward with a smile. “But you

can tell me to stop if I’m irritating you.” Amy’s color was similar to Josh’s. “You’re not irritating me,” Chloe said. “And yes, I’ll be working on a song.” She hadn’t agreed to write any song for any singer, but there were a couple of songs in her file that she was ready to work on. They continued their idle chat until all the food was gone. Christopher glanced toward the window. “I think I’d like to work on my song while staring out at the river.” He immediately turned back to her, but paused for a moment before speaking. “You don’t have to do … this for me.” “I want to.” She got up and cocked her head toward the door. “Shall we? Do you think the reporter will still be outside?” He shrugged. “But we’ll take the car, just in case.” When they drove out from the house, the reporter and cameraman were nowhere to be seen. They stopped by her house for less than five minutes. Since she hadn’t unpacked, she grabbed the few items she’d taken out and was ready to leave her parents’ place. With Christopher’s help, she was all set up in her new home office in less than half an hour. He’d gone back home so she could work in peace. She’d wanted him to stay so she could keep an eye on him, but he assured her that he was fine and left. Christopher was the most sincere person she’d ever met. During the competition, each time before he stepped out on stage and after his performance, he’d thank the musicians and the backstage crew for their hard work. As a result, everyone worked harder for him. When he wanted to sing her song for the finals, everyone worked to make it happen for him. His good personality didn’t seem to have helped in the world after the competition, though, and she understood. She wasn’t a singer, but she roamed in the same industry. Often, the loudest, most arrogant and obnoxious people got noticed. It was an industry that rewarded bad behavior. Bad behavior was newsworthy, thereby bringing publicity. No one would be interested to read about a star going to a bookstore or heading home to have dinner with his mother. She turned to her phone when it rang; an alarm reminding her of the appointment she had in a week. She grabbed the phone and twirled it in her hand, hesitating. There was nothing between her and Christopher. The kiss they shared was a remnant of their childhood crush, nothing more. She pulled her laptop over and went to Youtube to play one of his competition performances. She propped her hand on the table, then closed her eyes and leaned against her arm. She used to wish he was singing to her whenever he was on stage. He wasn’t, of course, but her heart always melted whenever he sang. That was eight years ago. There was nothing between them now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she thought about what Christopher had said right before kissing her. No. She shook her head. She had to stop thinking about the kiss. Picking up her phone, she cleared her throat and called Jason. The call went on ringing for the longest time, and she was about to end it when he picked it up. “Hi, Darling,” he shouted. She cringed at the explosion of blinding sparks from the loud thumping music in the background. She kept her eyes close and concentrated on breathing in and out. She had never stepped into a club, never even liked walking near one. Such music never failed to knock the breath right out of her, and not in a good way. The sudden bursts of lights always made her feel as if she were caught in a fireworks. She knew none of the sparks would hurt her, but they always caused such trepidations that resulted in shortness of breath. “I’m busy now, Chloe. I’ll call you back later, all right?” The line went dead. She sighed and opened her eyes, seeing black spots in her field of vision. She stared at her phone for a moment, then typed and sent Jason a text. We need to talk. The kiss between her and Christopher didn’t mean anything, but it was enough to let her know she couldn’t marry Jason. Maybe she should give the relationship between her and Jason some serious thought.

I’m sorry, Jason,she thought.I can’t marry you, and I think we should stop seeing each other. Maybe she just wasn’t the marrying type. She couldn’t see herself marrying Jason, and if a marriage was what he wanted, maybe she shouldn’t be wasting his time. Why would Jason want to get married anyway? She thought he was contented with what they had. He had always been someone who needed his space as well, which made the two of them perfect for each other. She leaned back against her chair and imagined what life would be like without Jason. Her mind went blank. She imagined herself breaking up with him and waited to feel something. Her mind remained blank. Though she’d never had an epic love story, like the ones she’d written in her songs, she’d seen the radiance of those in love and the contrasting poignancy of lost love. She pushed her phone aside, went to her suitcase, and pulled out the black folder. She brought that folder wherever she went. All the songs within were penned when the thoughts passed her by. She never bothered to fine-tune them. After all, they weren’t meant for anyone, not until she thought about Christopher. He might not be able to sing right now, but he would someday.

Christopher watched as Chloe hummed the tune to her new song. Her eyes were closed as she swayed the pencil to the rhythm of the song she was working on. She had such a sweet smile, a smile he couldn’t get his eyes off. He remembered the last time he saw her working on a song, a song that went on to become his greatest hit. He remembered how surprised she was when he announced he’d be singing her song in the finals. He had played the demo to his mentor, and his mentor made sure everyone who had a say in the workings of the show agreed. He never got to sing the song to her, though. When he was on stage, he searched the audience, but he couldn’t find her. He didn’t know it then, but she was already on a flight to London. He ran through the lyrics of the song in his head, lyrics about how nothing on earth mattered as long as he fixed his eyes on the love of his life. He’d been told that women all around the world fell in love with him, with the notion of being that girl for him. Whenever he sang that song, there was only one person on his mind. You’re too late, Chris. He shook his head and turned away. He looked over at the clock on the wall. It was already after three in the morning, and he bet she’d be looking for food soon. You’re just not cut out to be a singer. You were a gimmick, a fad. Everything’s over now. His hands twitched, and he felt a sudden agonizing thirst in his throat. He strode into the kitchen, placed his hands on the counter, and bent forward, exhaling deeply. He hadn’t heard that accusing voice since he stopped drinking, and he thought he would never hear it again unless he went back to the bottle, which he would never allow himself to do. Several times he was tempted, but he’d managed to stay sober—just barely. If Chloe hadn’t come back, he couldn’t say for sure where he would be right now. With another quiet sigh, he straightened and grabbed the bag of food he’d pilfered from his mom’s place. He had to keep himself busy. Though he’d assured Chloe that he was all right, though Chloe was absolutely right about not reading what the media was saying about him, he still went online to find out what Frank had said. He was tempted to reply. He wasn’t drunk, hadn’t been for a while now. His assistant, Rebecca, used to reply to such articles for him. She had an account with the fan club and was able to participate in various forums to let everyone know what was actually going on. He was tempted to create an account now, but the whole idea seemed pointless. He figured it would be better to leave things alone and let the whole issue with Frank blow over. He opened the bag and got to work on preparing the snack. While the egg rolled around in the pot of boiling water, he pulled out two slices of bread and cut away the edges. Chloe never liked the sides. He never understood why, but she just didn’t like them. He squeezed the Japanese mayonnaise into a small bowl before putting the bottle into the fridge.

Chloe entered the kitchen just as he cut the sandwich into small cubes. “I didn’t hear you come in,” Chloe said. “Just in time.” He pushed the plate toward her. “When did you get here?” “Around half an hour ago. You … were working, so … I didn’t want to interrupt.” She brought the cup she was holding over to the sink and turned on the tap. “How did you know I’d be looking for something to eat?” “You used to send me texts in the middle of the night to complain about the lack of food in your house.” He never woke from the messages, but he always saw them the next morning. She laughed softly, the corners of her eyes creasing. “Right.” She picked up one of the cubes and popped it into her mouth. “You used Japanese mayonnaise.” “That’s the only … type you like.” She watched him for a moment. “What?” “Is everything all right?” “Is something wrong with my color?” He turned to the sink and washed up the utensils. “I’ll be right back,” she said and left the kitchen. While Chloe went upstairs, he took the plate and went into the living room. “Here.” She handed him a set of sheet music when she got back to him. “What do you think?” He couldn’t sing anymore, but he still knew how to read music. He looked through the sheet music and heard himself singing the song in his head. The song wasn’t for him, of course. It couldn’t be. “Sounds like another … hit.” “Sounds like something you’d like to sing?” “If I can still sing,” he said. “Last night I checked out some of your songs from your last few albums.” She took another cube and pushed the plate over to him. “Why did you sing those songs? I don’t believe you even like them.” He wasn’t sure why he did. “I guess … I was swept up in everything. Everything … was arranged for me, and … I just did what I was told.” “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I did, in the beginning. At first it … was just a couple … of those songs in my … album, then the … recording label was deciding … everything.” He shook his head. “There was just so … much unhappiness in the production of … the albums that I … couldn’t care much.” Her focus shifted from him to the air around him. “And that’s where you lost your heart to sing.” “You don’t think it has … anything to do with my … my drinking?” She continued to stare at his surroundings. People used to think Chloe was weird because she couldn’t maintain eye contact. She didn’t do it as much as before, not that it ever mattered to him. Her habit was part of who she was, and he’d always accepted it, just as she accepted his stuttering. There was something more in her gaze, though. She seemed to be observing the colors instead of getting distracted by them. “No,” she said and finally looked back at him. “I saw the video of your last performance. You were drunk, and maybe alcohol did affect your voice a little, but I don’t believe you can lose your voice completely due to your drinking.” He didn’t want to disappoint Chloe, but he wasn’t sure if she was right. “You know, I’ve never asked what you love about singing.” “I like … that I don’t … stutter when I sing.” “Is that all?” He gazed right at her. “I like the way you look at me when I sing.” “I’m sure everyone looks at you the way I do when you sing.” “I don’t care about everyone else.” She fell silent, but continued looking at him. There it was again, the invisible pull he felt when he saw her working on her song. He cleared his throat and turned his face away. Neither said anything while Chloe reached for another piece of sandwich.

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me into giving you this song?” she asked, breaking the silence. He laughed. “Because you don’t have to,” she said and took another piece of sandwich. “It’s yours. It isn’t completed yet, but when it is, it’s yours.” “You spent hours working … on a song … for someone who can … no longer sing.” “Do you still want to sing?” She propped her elbow against the back of the couch and twisted over to look at him. “Not if you can, but if you want.” He hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know.” She pulled her legs up onto the couch as she nodded, then shrugged. “Well, you have time to figure things out.” Christopher looked at the empty plate. “Do you want another one?” “No, I’m good.” He nodded and watched her for a minute. Time seemed to have frozen for Chloe. Years hadn’t left a hint on her skin; her skin was as fair and radiant as he remembered. Even the chillness in her skin hadn’t changed. Even in summer, her skin was always cool to the touch His fingers twitched; he wanted so much to run them down her cheek and arm and leave a trail of warmth. He closed his eyes for a moment. He had to stop thinking about her like this. “Will your boyfriend be visiting soon?” He almost cringed at the thought of her boyfriend staying in the house he built for her. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” “Why not?” She shrugged. “He proposed.” He looked at her ring finger. “I didn’t say yes.” He hoped his grin wasn’t too broad. “Why not?” “I need to get back to this.” She reached over for the sheet music, but he pulled it back. “Work on this tomorrow … You should get some sleep.” She hesitated for a moment, then stretched her arms and sighed. “All right. I’m rather tired anyway.”

Chapter Six

Christopher jumped when he stepped into the kitchen and saw Josh. “I thought … you’re staying at the hotel … with your friends.” Josh grinned. “I suppose you and Chloe made up. Is she working on another song again?” “How did you know … I was with her?” Josh shot him an are-you-serious look. “You shaved, and you’re smiling. I haven’t seen you smile a genuine smile in what? Eight years? And since you’ve been home, you’ve hardly left the house.” Christopher gave Josh the same dirty look. “So? You guys talked, right?” He nodded. “So all is good?” “Apparently … I’m smiling.” “That’s the Chris I know.” Josh’s lips curled into a rueful smile. “I just wanted to make sure all is well.” He stood. Christopher grabbed a glass. “She … has a fiancé.” “Fiancé?” Josh sat back down. “Jason asked her to marry him?” “You know him?” “I’m sure you know him, too,” Josh said. “Jason Morgan. His grandfather owns one of the largest music promotion companies.” He knew who Jason was. He’d always thought the relationship between Jason and Chloe was a rumor. After all, he’d seen Jason at some of the parties, and he never would have thought Jason had a girlfriend. “They’ve been together for over two years.” Josh laughed and took a gulp of water. “But it’s really more like two months.” He didn’t understand what Josh was saying. “They rarely meet each other. She’s in Rome most of the time unless she’s working in L.A. And even then, they may not even meet up.” Christopher watched Josh as he rattled on. A strange sense of jealousy coursed through him when he noticed how Josh seemed to know everything about Chloe’s life. “I’ve been keeping tabs for you,” Josh said and grinned. He rolled his eyes and turned on the tap, filling his glass. “There’s still time, you know. She isn’t married yet.” His shoulders twitched. “She didn’t say … yes.” “Then he’s not her fiancé,” he said. “So you definitely still have a chance.” He didn’t reply. He turned to leave the kitchen. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t engaged. She had a boyfriend, someone better and more successful than he. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re not interested. She’s the love of your life.” He laughed once, a dry, humorless laugh. “The love of my … life?” “Yeah.” “You’re crazy.”

Josh glared at him. “You were happy whenever you guys were together. I thought you’d be happy being a superstar, but you weren’t.” “Because I crashed and … burnt.” “You crashed and burnt because you no longer enjoyed singing without her.” Chloe’s words resurfaced in his head. I think you’ve lost the heart to sing. “I’m sure she cares about you, and I know you care about her. If anyone can help you sing again, it’s her.” He sat on the chair across from Josh. “Thanks, Josh.” Josh grew serious. “For what?” “For always … believing in me.” For the first time since knowing he might never sing again, he felt he’d let someone down. “And I’m sorry.” He gave Josh a pat on his arm, then stood and walked away. “The song she wrote for you, for the finals. It was a love song, right?” Josh stood and joined him by his side. “And you know how she writes her songs.” He stopped and hesitated. “Did something happen to … Chloe after … after she got to London?” “How did you know something happened?” From what Chloe had said. Though she hadn’t said much, it was enough. “What happened?” Josh shrugged. “She didn’t want to talk about it. I think it was something about college and her parents.” Of course it had something to do with her parents. He nodded and gave Josh another pat on his arm. “Goodnight.”

Chloe looked toward the door when she heard the key. She draped her coat over the couch and smiled when Christopher opened the door. “I brought breakfast.” “Thanks.” Christopher closed the door. “Are you going somewhere? I thought … you’ll still be sleeping.” “I was just about to call you. Can I borrow your mom’s car? I have to head to L.A.” “You’re … leaving already?” “Not right now,” she said and took the bag he was holding. “What’s for breakfast?” She peered into the bag and pulled out the sandwich. “Have you eaten?” “Will you be … coming back?” She nodded. “I should be back tonight. I was going to L.A. next week, but my friend called me last night and asked if we could bring forward the date. Since I’m already in the States, we decided to meet today.” She needed to speak with Jason anyway. She knew how busy he was, but maybe she could drop by his office and take five minutes of his time. She cocked her head toward the kitchen. “You really don’t owe me this house. You didn’t win the competition because of my song; you won it because of your voice.” “You told my mom that … the love stories in your songs … were the singers’ stories,” he said when he was next to her. “Yeah.” “The song you wrote … for me.” “Mm-hmm.” “It was a love song.” “Mm-hmm.” “Who … did you imagine me in … love with?” Herself; but there was no way she was going to tell him that. She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “No one. It was just a life I imagined you having,” she said and turned to the fridge she had opened just so she could hide her head inside. “You said something to me … the other day.” He didn’t continue until she turned back to him. “Did something happen with your school?” She gave him a half-shrug. “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s over anyway.” He continued to watch her, but he didn’t say a word. She knew he wouldn’t pressure her for more information. “You should come with me to Italy. You can crash on my couch, and I’ll be your tour guide.” He shook his head.

“I’ll pay for the tickets and all. Come on, you want to give me a house. Surely I can buy you tickets to Italy. You’ll love it there; I know you will. Remember all the documentaries we watched about Rome? Please?” His lips curled. “Stop that.” “Think about it,” she said. “The sculptures are amazing. You can drink the spring water right out of them.” “What do you have to do in L.A.?” Tell Jason that I can’t marry him. “My friend just wanted to meet up. She didn’t tell me what she needed, but she sounded somewhat desperate.” “Desperate?” She pursed her lips and shrugged again. “I guess I’ll find out later.”

Chloe watched the numbers on the lift’s screen jump. She loved lifts that didn’t play any music. The steel walls were like a vault, shutting the rest of the world out. The only sound came from the low humming of the lift’s mechanics at work, and that gave off a constant wave of matt gray that was easy to ignore. She took a deep breath and rehearsed her speech in her head. Jason, I’ve given your question—no, proposal. She should be more direct. Jason, I’ve given your proposal some thought, and I don’t think I can say yes. That sounded direct but kind. At least she hoped it was. I’m sorry. I think I’m just not the marrying kind. Neither was he, but she decided she wouldn’t add that part in. She waved at the receptionist seated on a bright red chair behind a white counter. She went right past the meeting room framed with frosted glass and headed straight toward Jason’s office. She’d slowed her steps while she tried to come up with a proper speech. Despite that, when she got to his assistant’s desk, she still hadn’t figured out how she was going to tell him about the kiss she shared with Christopher. She would start with an apology, of course, but she couldn’t come up with anything beyond that. She clasped her hand around the handle of her bag and tucked the other into her jeans’ back pocket. “Hi, I’m looking for Jason Morgan.” This was the first time she had come to his office without Jason beside her, and it seemed he’d changed his assistant again. “Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist didn’t bother to look up from her bright red chair. She continued clicking on her white mouse on the equally white desk. She shook her head. “Is he here?” “Mr. Morgan doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.” Chloe scratched the uncomfortable tingling along her neck and tried to ignore the growing green mist. “Would you just pass him the message that Chloe is here?” You’re fine; the mist won’t suffocate you. She clenched her jaws, but managed to keep her eyes on the assistant. “Chloe who?” She licked her lips at the assistant’s rude tone. “You know what, maybe I should just call him.” “Yeah.” The assistant nodded patronizingly. “You do that.” She turned her back to the assistant and moved away from the green mist that was threatening to envelop her. When she was certain that the dissipating mist wouldn’t be able to get her, she pulled out her phone. She was about to click the dial button when she noticed a shadow. She stopped and looked up from the shiny black leather shoes. “Lawrence,” she said and smiled at Jason’s grandfather. Lawrence opened his arms, and she stepped in to give him a hug. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I’m looking for Jason, but I don’t think he’s here.” Lawrence frowned. “I just saw him.” He cocked his head to the side. “Walk with me. So how are you doing? Working with any new artist?” She laughed. “You know I won’t reveal anything.” “Not even to me?” Chloe’s smile faltered slightly. Lawrence had always been nice to her, but he was someone she couldn’t quite figure out. He was someone whose colors varied widely from one person to another, and sometimes his words were laced with strange dull purple, red, or black.

He did seem to like her. When he spoke to her, the color was usually of a light pink; a color she’d often spotted when parents spoke gently to their children. Still, there were times when even the pink was laced with a trail of dark gray smoke. “You’ll know when they come to you for music promotion.” She grinned. She had always liked Lawrence. Though he owned the largest music promotion firm, he never spoke to her as if she was beneath him, which was an irritatingly common bad habit in the music industry. The contempt could be so thick that she often had to step away for fear of suffocation. Though all the songs she’d written got the singers onto various charts, she was young. Many in the industry, especially those who had been in this line for a long time, thought of her as a quirky songwriter who got lucky. She shouldn’t care what others thought about her, but she did. The odious green in their tones spelled out their real thoughts and feelings; the same shade that laced most of the words her mother spoke to her. She never knew how to react in those situations. She should probably walk away with a flick of her hair, but she wasn’t that sort of person. Instead, she would swallow whatever emotion she felt and force a smile. If she didn’t do that, if she didn’t have her guard up, she was afraid she’d shrivel into a wimpy crybaby; exactly what happened when she allowed her mother’s words or her father’s inaction to affect her. “Mr. Morgan.” The assistant immediately straightened her back. “Um … Mr. Morgan, Jason, your grandson—” “I know who you’re talking about,” Lawrence said. “Tell him that his grandfather and girlfriend are here.” “Um …” The assistant licked her lips again, and her gaze skittered across her desk. “He isn’t inside.” Chloe frowned at the red and black sparks going off. She looked over at Lawrence and found his brows drawing closer as well. After a moment, Lawrence turned to her and gave her the most dazzling smile. “Let me take you out for lunch.” A halo of dull reddish gray smoke surrounded the light pink. She followed the bubble of color for a second, then turned to the closed door and finally stared at the assistant, who was now displaying the brightest smile along with wide, non-blinking eyes. She looked at Lawrence again as he placed his hand on her back. She doubted Lawrence knew what was going on, but he seemed ready for her to leave as well. She didn’t demand that Jason put her first place. For the both of them, work had always come first. Why did his assistant have to lie? Why didn’t Lawrence call her out on it? He always did. She nodded and turned, but at the last second, she rounded the table and opened the door. She heard a gasp. It took her a moment to realize she’d made that noise and another moment to close her eyes and turn away from the naked brunette lying on Jason’s table while an equally naked Jason laid on top of her. “Lock the door next time,” she said. “Chloe!” She shot Lawrence a disapproving glare. “Oh.” She turned around. Jason skidded to a stop, his hands still fumbling with his pants’ zipper. She turned her face away. “I came to tell you that I can’t marry you.” Jason took her hand. “Don’t touch me.” She pulled her hand back and wiped it down on her jeans. “We’re done.” “Chloe, wait.” Jason grabbed her arm again. “Stop touching me.” She took a deep breath. While she did, she tried to gather her thoughts and feelings. Nothing came to her. “Our hearts are clearly not in our relationship.” “For heaven’s sake, get your shirt on!” Lawrence placed his hand on her back and led her away from the office. “I’m so sorry, Chloe.” She pursed her lips and turned to him. “I wasn’t an angel either. I kissed someone, which was why I came here today.” Lawrence didn’t say a word. They continued the rest of the walk in silence until they stepped into the lift. “The two of you spend too much time apart,” Lawrence said as the lift made its descent. “That was what we liked about the relationship. We didn’t have to talk every day or text each other every hour. Both of us like our space.” Now she had a better understanding on how Jason enjoyed his space. “This wasn’t the first time he’s cheated on me, right? You knew something was up when the assistant lied.” “I had an inkling.” “And you never told me.” He sighed softly. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m a selfish old man. You’re such a good influence on him. When he’s with you,

he’s a better person.” She didn’t know what to say, so she stared ahead. “Are you angry with me?” She pinched her lips together. She couldn’t really say she was. She still didn’t feel anything besides the shock of seeing her now ex-boyfriend having sex with a brunette. “Would you have said anything if I agreed to marry him?” “I would’ve called him into my office and gave him a stern warning.” “That’s all? That doesn’t sound as if it would be effective.” She waved it off. “Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I wasn’t going to marry him anyway.” “Why?” One of her shoulders twitched. “I don’t know. I just don’t see myself marrying him.” “So who do you see yourself marrying? The guy you kissed?” She thought about his question. When she realized she was smiling, she pulled her lips between her teeth. She thanked God when the lift doors opened. She gave Lawrence’s arm a squeeze. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” “Let me send you home.” “I drove here, and I’m meeting someone nearby for lunch. Don’t worry about me.” Once she left the building, Chloe drove to the restaurant where she was supposed to meet her friend. Since she was rather early, she walked around and searched for a cafe instead. She got herself a cup of latte and settled into a seat. The one thing she didn’t quite enjoy about Italy was the lack of coffee like this. Most of what they drank there were espressos, and they drank them like shots. She liked her coffee with lots of milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon. She brought the cup up to her nose and took in a deep breath, allowing the aroma of the coffee to wake her. She didn’t feel exceptionally tired, but there seemed to be a fog in her head. Perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep. Taking a sip of coffee, she rested back against the chair as she thought about what just went down with Jason. She should be sad, right? Or angry at least. Staring at the coffee in her hands, she realized how relieved she was. Maybe Josh was right; if freedom was what she enjoyed most about the relationship between her and Jason, maybe she didn’t like Jason very much. Since she didn’t have any answers, she decided that a distraction was what she needed. She pulled out her laptop and plugged in her noise-canceling earphones. She closed her eyes and listened to the music she’d written. Though the song wasn’t completed, she could already hear Christopher’s voice accompanying the tune. She made the few changes that came to her mind while she sipped her coffee. She didn’t know how long she had worked on the music until a text came through her phone, and she realized she was late for her lunch appointment. She stuffed her laptop into her bag and hurried over to the restaurant. The loud and enthusiastic Japanese greeting startled her. She smiled and nodded at the chef looking at her, then made her way toward Ella, who seemed to be daydreaming. She had requested to have lunch at a Japanese restaurant. Other than missing her lattes, she’d missed sushi as well. She hadn’t had sushi in years. The only Japanese restaurant she’d seen in Italy was at least an hour and a half from her apartment, and it was always packed. “I’m so sorry,” Chloe said as she settled on a chair. Ella gave her a small, awkward smile and handed her a menu. “It’s all right. I’m just grateful that you can make it today,” she said. “Thanks for shifting our appointment.” She blinked and tried to ignore the grayish-blue cloud of words. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Ella cracked a smile. “I know you’re picky about your friends.” Picky? That was the first time she heard someone say that about her. “And I know you have certain expectations of your friends.” “And I hate it when people beat around the bush.” She stared at the conveyor belt and grabbed a few plates. “So, what can I do for you?” Ella licked her lips. “I need a favor.” “I figured.” “I need a song.” Chloe smiled. “For yourself? Sure.” She knew Ella well enough; she could definitely write her a song. “I didn’t—”

“Not for me.” She waved at the grayish-blue cloud moving toward her face. “Sorry,” she said when she noticed Ella staring at her. “I thought I saw a fly. So who do you want me to write a song for?” “Nicole Lane.” “Is this Nicole a friend of yours?” Ella shook her head. “I’ve never met her before.” Chloe chewed and swallowed her seasoned octopus. “Then why are you asking me to write a song for her?” “As a favor for someone else.” Chloe sighed. “I—” “I know it’s confusing, but I really need you to do this.” Dullish red and yellow spiraled toward her. She closed her eyes; the colors were making her dizzy. “Ella—” “Please.” She rubbed her fingers against her temple. “Ella, please just tell me what’s going on.” Ella sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “I did something stupid.” She opened her eyes and sighed softly at the calmer colors. The words were still tainted with gray, but at least they weren’t giving her the desire to throw up. She took a sip of her hot green tea and waited. “I had an affair.” She pursed her lips, nodded, and reached for another plate. Ella clearly needed to get something off her chest, but she seemed to be debating if she should lay everything out for her. Chloe never looked too kindly on people who cheated, but Ella looked as if she’d been through enough. “He’s a married man.” Chloe chewed on the sushi, watching Ella’s words morph into an intense dark purple. “It was stupid. I broke it off after a while, but someone has gotten hold of a couple of photos and is blackmailing me.” Ella buried her face in her hands. “If Clayton finds out …” “And all this person wants is for me to write a song for Nicole Lane. Why?” “I never know what she’s thinking.” Ella cradled the tea between her hands. Chloe watched Ella for a moment. “I’ll do it for you if you promise you’ll never cheat again.” Ella broke into a wry smile as she reached out and took her hands. “Thanks, Chloe. I swear I’ll never do it again.” “I don’t want to get involved with this blackmailer, but you can’t keep letting her blackmail you. Tell the person that you want the photos and negatives burnt in front of you before handing the song over.” Ella pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Rebecca can be rather scary. I’m afraid I’ll piss her off, and she’ll send Clayton the photos.” Rebecca. Chloe thought the name sounded familiar. “It’s your choice.” She pushed the plates to the side of the table. “What else has she blackmailed you for?” “Nothing,” Ella said. “She called me once and pretended to be all friendly, asking me about my work and family. Then she hung up and sent me the photo.” Chloe frowned. It didn’t make sense, but Ella wasn’t lying. She could see the stable color through her words. “That’s strange.” “She’s scary and evil.” “Then are you sure that giving in to her request is the right thing to do?” Ella pursed her lips. “I don’t have a choice. I don’t dare to risk it.” Chloe sighed and nodded. “What song should I write?” “I don’t care if it’s the worst song you’ve ever written.” Ella grabbed a plate off the conveyor belt and sighed again as she slammed the plate onto the table. “I can’t believe I did something so stupid.” Chloe didn’t reply to that; she didn’t know what to say. As she was reaching for another plate, her phone rang. She took a peek at the number, rejected the call, and flipped her phone over. Jason had completely dropped out of her mind until now. “You can answer the call if you want,” Ella said. She shook her head. “It isn’t anything important.” “Had a fight with Jason?” She shrugged. “Speak of the devil.” Ella’s chin jerked forward.

“Chloe.” Chloe looked over her shoulder. “How did you know I was here?” “I told him,” Ella said softly. “I saw him this morning, and I told him we’re having lunch.” She suppressed the urge to sigh aloud. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” She couldn’t say no now. She smiled politely at Ella and stood. “I’ll be right back.” She led the way out of the restaurant and stood right outside. No one inside the restaurant would be able to see them anyway. The top half of the glass panels was blocked off by dark blue cloths with white Japanese wordings while the bottom half of the panels was frosted. “Chloe, I’m sorry, but it wasn’t what you think.” She wanted to laugh. She looked at the time on her phone, then back at him. “You had nearly three hours, and this is the best you came up with?” Jason licked his lips. “Chloe, I’ll do anything. Please forgive me.” “Forget it, Ja—” “I’ll become Catholic for you.” She frowned. “I’m not Catholic.” “What? Isn’t that why you love staying in Rome? Because it’s near the Vatican City?” “What?” Again she wanted to laugh. She had always thought that what she and Jason had was mature and sensible, that they could maintain their relationship despite rarely seeing each other because they knew each other well. Who was she kidding? “I’ve only stepped foot in Vatican City once.” She was a tourist then, and visiting the Vatican City was the touristy thing to do. “But your mom is Catholic, right?” “No!” Her fingers splayed over her lips as she tried to conceal her laughter. “No one in my family is Catholic.” “You’re not Catholic?” She pursed her lips and nodded. “I’m sure I’d know if I was.” “But you’re so … so …” “So what?” “Proper.” The sense of amusement disappeared. “And you make that sound like a bad thing.” She shook her head. “Look, Jason, we obviously don’t know each other well. Since walking away from you, I haven’t felt an ounce of sadness.” “Chlo—” “And for you to sleep with someone else, I don’t think you care very much for me either. So why are you even here? Because Lawrence told you to fix things?” He sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. “Just marry me, Chloe. You can continue to stay in Rome, and I’ll continue to stay here. We’ll continue as we did before.” “And why will I do that?” She took a step back. “Because I’m so proper that no one will want me?” “Chloe, listen—” “Jason, I’m sorry.” She turned and walked back into the restaurant. “Is everything all right?” Ella asked the moment she got back to the table. “Yeah.” She broke into a smile when she saw the concern on Ella’s face. “I’m fine, really.”

Chapter Seven

Chloe was exhausted when she got back to the house. She wanted to give Christopher a call and return the car to his mom, but she was so tired. Instead, she sent Christopher a text to let him know she was back. She peeled the jacket off her and stumbled into the bathroom to take a quick shower before crumpling onto her bed. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but she awoke to her phone vibrating away in her bag. She pulled her pillow over her ears. She should get used to sleeping with ear plugs. Sighing softly, she turned and tried to get back to sleep, but her phone wouldn’t let her. “Ugh!” She shot upright and glared at her bag, willing the phone within it to self-destruct, but it didn’t. She was about to crawl out of bed when it finally stopped vibrating. Closing her eyes, she slumped back against the bed. Then came another buzz, a short, single buzz. She gave up. She got out of bed and checked her phone. Two missed calls, one text message, all from Jason. At least she had slept through the night, and now she was starving. She still had the car; she could drive out and buy something to eat. She changed and trudged down the stairs. The car key she’d left on the coffee table was no longer there. Instead, a note replaced it. My mom needed the car. There’s food in the oven. Instructions followed, stating the temperature and timing she should set the oven to. She ran her thumb across the bottom of the note where Christopher’s name was before dropping it back onto the table. She went into the kitchen and set the oven according to the instructions, then went back upstairs and texted Christopher, thanking him for breakfast. She was halfway through breakfast when she heard the doorbell. She popped the bite-size hash browns into her mouth and walked to the door. She was about to open it when she hesitated. Would Frank come out here to try another chance at getting his demo heard? Dropping her hand, she walked over to the windows and looked out. She grinned and waved when she saw Christopher. Opening the door, she said, “Good morning. Why did you ring the bell when you have the key?” “It seems … wrong that I keep using my … key to open the … door to your house.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s still your house.” Then she smelled it. “Coffee!” He grinned and lifted the cups in his hands. “Josh says you love lattes.” Of course Josh would know. He’d heard her complain about Italy’s espresso and how difficult it was to get her hands on lattes. “Thanks. Has he set off on his camping trip?” He nodded. “I don’t think they’ll … last the week.” She glanced over her shoulder, distracted by the vibration of her phone. She’d already placed the screen down

against the table, so she couldn’t see who was calling. She didn’t need to see the screen, though. She knew who was calling. “Aren’t you going to get that?” he asked when she turned back to him. She shook her head. “How did things … go?” She smiled, sensing his concern. “All right, I guess.” Her phone started vibrating again. She grabbed her phone and rejected the call, then looked up to see Christopher watching her. “Had a fight with Jason?” She switched off the phone. Why was Jason being so persistent? Their relationship clearly didn’t mean a lot to him either. Since he was interested enough to sleep with that woman, shouldn’t he be rejoicing over their breakup? “Is everything all … right?” “Yes.” She returned to the kitchen and resumed her eating. “I have another song I need to write.” “Have you grown tired of your successful career already?” “What do you mean?” “You’re not the only one who’s sensitive to tones,” he said with a small smile. She sighed softly. “I’m writing this song as a favor for a friend. I know nothing about the singer, and the reason behind why I’m doing this kind of disgusts me.” “Writing a song as a favor disgusts you.” “Not that.” She looked at him and sighed. “This friend of mine did something stupid, and now she’s being blackmailed. If I don’t give her a song, the blackmailer will send out photos that will destroy her life.” “Looks like you had an interesting meeting.” She gave him a wry smile. “Will you be staying for a few more days?” “I don’t know.” She pointed at the plate in front of her. “Want some?” He shook his head and sat across from her. “What happened with Jason?” She shrugged. “We broke up.” His brows rose, and he didn’t say a word for a few moments. “Why?” he finally asked. “I popped by his office and caught him cheating.” “Oh.” His brows puckered. “I’m okay,” she said. Christopher’s brows drew closer. “I’m somewhat relieved, actually. I think I got off easy.” “Got off easy?” She cut a long strip of bacon in half. “I was going to tell him that I can’t marry him.” She paused, considering if she should tell Christopher about how she was reconsidering her relationship with Jason. She didn’t want him to think it was because of their kiss. She was sure the kiss meant nothing to him. “And?” “And I’m kind of glad that I don’t have to be the bad person.” It was also an added bonus that Jason’s indiscretion was so much worse than hers. “I know it’s cowardly, but I’m kind of glad it worked out like this.” He nodded and she waited. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” “What should I say?” She wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to say, but maybe a smile instead of that stoic look he was giving. “Nothing. Anyway, have you given the Italy vacation any thought?” His chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “Come on, you can’t say no. I just went through a breakup. Besides, we can get out of here before Frank finds something else to accuse you about.” She grinned when he laughed. “Please?” “I don’t feel right a … about letting you pay.” “Forget about the money. I want to get away for a while, but I don’t want to do it alone. Please go with me.” She leaned toward him and blinked twice. “Then you can help me carry my stuff as well. It’ll be getting colder, but it’ll be warm in the afternoon. I can’t be ca—” “Haven’t you been to all of … Italy?” “Hardly. You know how much I love staying at home.”

“Only when your parents … aren’t home.” “True,” she said. “And since I’m staying alone, I have the apartment all to myself all the time.” “So you’re home … all the time.” “Exactly.” She grinned. “So? Will you explore Italy with me?” “Okay.” “Yay! Is it all right if you plan our itinerary? I have a song to write.” She looked over at the black screen on her phone. She should reply to Jason’s texts as well. Maybe he thought he’d hurt her with his behavior. She should assure him that she was fine and that it was best for both of them to move on. After breakfast, she retreated into the studio with her laptop. Her mail application bounced up and down on the bottom of her laptop’s screen. She opened the application and sighed. Are you back home? You went back to our house without telling me? You know I rent it out. How selfish of you to just go and live there without thinking about the possible tenants and the trouble it will cause me. Chloe deleted it without replying. There would be more to come. Maybe another email, then text messages, followed by phone calls to tell her what a selfish and horrible person she was. She was in too good a mood to let it be affected by her mother. Not today.

Chloe leaned over and looked at Christopher typing away on his laptop. Using her spoon, she scraped the last bit of cheese and put it into her mouth. Christopher grinned and shook his head. “I’m sure she’ll make you another plate if you want.” Amy turned to her from the sink. “The mac-and-cheese isn’t enough?” “She just wants more cheese.” She nudged Christopher on his arm. “Don’t listen to him. It’s enough.” “Do you want to take the flight to Rome directly?” Christopher asked while scanning through flight schedules on the Internet. “I think we should fly to Milan. There aren’t as many flights to Rome. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the train ride anyway.” She got up and took her plate to the sink.“Would you like to come along?” she asked as Amy took the plate from her. “Maybe next time.” She pulled in the lower right corner of her lip. “Did my mom call you?” Amy hesitated. “I’m sorry if I got you into trouble. I don’t know how she found out I’m here.” “Oh, I have a pretty good guess.” Amy grinned and waved it off. “But don’t worry about me. I told her you only stayed there for a night, which is the truth.” “Mm-hmm.” “I wanted to deny everything, but with all the camera phones nowadays …” “You didn’t want to be caught red-handed.” She returned to her seat. “She’s still going to pay you for your help, right?” A corner of Amy’s lips hooked into a smug smile. “There may be people willing to gossip with her, but no one likes her enough to help her.” “Why do you help her, then?” Chloe propped her hands onto the table and leaned forward. “I know you don’t like her.” Amy shrugged. “It felt wrong to reject her when I know no one else would help her.” “Both of you are too kind, but that’s what I love about you guys.” “You say the sweetest things.” Amy rinsed off the last of the plates, walked over, and pulled her in for a quick hug. “And we love you, too. You know that, right?” She tipped her head against her shoulder. “I know.” “Good.” Amy let go of her. “Well, I’m heading out for a while. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.” “Yes, ma’am.” She pressed her shoulder against Christopher’s. “Did you include Pompeii in the itinerary? I’ve always wanted to go, but never got the chance.” He arched a brow. “Never got … the chance?” “I planned, several times, but something always came up.” She peered toward the living room when the doorbell rang. “I thought Josh was already on his camping trip.”

“Maybe he forgot … something.” He stood and walked out of the kitchen. Pulling the laptop closer to herself, she scanned through the plans Christopher had made. “Chris!” She frowned when she heard the female voice. That definitely wasn’t Josh. She leaned back and tried to get a peek of who it was, but Christopher was still standing in front of the door, blocking her view. “What are you doing … here?” Christopher’s usual color, tinted with a hint of blue, floated into the kitchen and disappeared out the window. “I just got back to the company. I’m so sorry.” Chloe waited, but no colors appeared. She glanced toward the living room, but there weren’t any colors in the living room either. “Are you feeling better? I heard you were hospitalized.” Again, Christopher’s words swirled toward her. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to prevent that disastrous performance from happening.” With her focus on the living room, Chloe finally noticed the tapered red words. She couldn’t stop staring at the words as she noticed how they crumpled and fell apart after barely making it into the living room. “I’m glad it happened. You … shouldn’t have … to hide my addiction for me.” “But you still can’t sing.” “Which is why the … company is—” “They’re not dropping you. I just had a chat with a few people, and I got them to postpone whatever decision they’ve made about you.” Chloe stared at the crumbling words, then closed her eyes as she remembered when she’d last seen something like this. “How did you do that?” Christopher asked. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Those words struck a sudden panic in Chloe’s heart. She got up and entered the living room just as Christopher was ushering the mysterious person into the room. “How did you know … where to find me?” Chloe stared at the familiar face. She’d seen this person before. “I actually dropped by the house by the river, but you weren’t there.” “I built that house—” “I know, I know.” The woman pulled off her scarf and froze when their eyes met. “Chloe.” Christopher walked toward her. “This is Rebecca.” Rebecca. Could it be the same Rebecca who was blackmailing Ella? Chloe swallowed and forced a smile. “I’ve seen you before,” she said to Rebecca, then turned to Christopher. “Remember the letter I left you? I had just placed it on your dresser and was about to leave when she came in.” “I thought I heard someone in your room, so I went in to see who it was.” Chloe stared at Rebecca, but no words or colors appeared. This is a first. “You said you’d make sure that he got the letter.” Rebecca smiled sweetly and looked at Christopher. “To say the truth, it was a crazy night. I completely forgot about the letter until now. I didn’t even see the letter.” Still no color. “I pointed it out to you.” Chloe didn’t want to be confrontational, but she was curious and wanted to keep Rebecca talking. She looked over to Christopher when she felt his hand on her back. His brows were puckered as he stared at her with concern. He deepened his furrow, and she took a deep breath and smiled to let him know she was all right. “I didn’t see it.” Chloe immediately turned back to Rebecca as a dark green mist grew, but again, something seemed to cut away its life, and the mist fell away without making much headway. “I should go.” Rebecca gathered her things. “Don’t worry about your contract. When you’re ready, we can get back to work.” “I can’t … sing anymore,” Christopher said as he moved toward the door. Chloe licked her lips. She was tempted to pull Christopher back. Stop being irrational. The colors and images aren’t real; they don’t mean anything. “We’ll get it back. I’ll find a trainer. How about the speech therapist who worked with you on your stuttering? Maybe he can help. You’re a great singer.” Rebecca laid her hand on his arm. “I won’t let them ruin your future.” The

red in her words were brighter, and they lasted slightly longer. “You don’t have to … help me.” Rebecca dropped her hand, gave Chloe a polite smile, and walked to the door. “I’ll see you soon.” The colors had disappeared again. She went over to the window as Christopher closed the door after Rebecca had left. “What’s wrong?” “She was your assistant?” He nodded. “Is she sick?” “What do you mean? Oh, you … heard me talking about her … hospitalization?” She looked back at him as Rebecca drove away. “What was she hospitalized for?” He shrugged as he walked toward her. “She took a two-week break from … work for personal reasons. I asked … if she was all right and … she assured me that she just needed … a break. Then I suddenly heard she was hospitalized. I’m not sure … for what.” “She seemed to have certain control over your contract,” she said. Christopher grinned and pressed his index finger against her forehead. “Stop frowning. Why do you look so worried?” “Do you find her strange?” “Did your superpower detect something?” She rolled her eyes. Only he called her condition a superpower. “I’m serious.” “So am I.” She sighed softly and continued, “Sometimes when she speaks, I don’t see any colors or words. Then when they do appear, they appear weak.” His brows drew closer. “She’s the first person I’ve ever met who doesn’t have a color when she speaks. As for the weak words, I’ve only seen this when my parents had me committed in the psychiatric hospital.” She cleared her throat. She never liked talking about her stay there. It was the first time she felt betrayed and abandoned by her parents. She shuddered as memory served her a snippet of her recent nightmare about waking up and finding herself in the hospital. Christopher reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. His touch brought her back to reality, and she smiled just because he was there with her. “Are you all right?” He took another step closer and wrapped his hand around her. “I won’t let anyone put you there again.” She put her arms around his waist and squeezed her eyes shut as they burnt. The security from his hug and words flooded her and calmed her down. “I know.” She let go of him and straightened. Christopher’s face was right in front of hers as he bent and looked at her. She sucked in a breath when she thought he was going to kiss her, but he suddenly straightened and moved away from her. She blinked and exhaled heavily through her nose. A moment of silence passed before he turned back to her. She rubbed her hand against her neck and struggled to remember what they were talking about before that. “And that pattern only appeared in heavily medicated patients.” She couldn’t be sure what condition those patients had; she was too afraid to ask. All she knew was that she should stay away from them. Most of the time, those patients were kept away from the rest of them anyway. Christopher moved over to the couch. “I’m not exactly sure what condition … she has. She always seemed reluctant to talk about it, so … I never forced her to tell me.” She sat beside him. “But you know something’s wrong.” His head bobbed up and down in a slow rhythm. “You know how makeup artists carry around a bag filled with cosmetics? She has one like that, but it’s filled with pills.” “That must be a lot of pills.” “Yeah, but she seemed fine. She has alarms … to remind her to take … them. I was kind of afraid … that she was so stressed about having … to cover up my addiction that she got hospitalized. Toward … the end, I was drunk most … of the time, so I didn’t … know what’s going on around me half the … time.” “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault, and she seems fine when she was here just now.”

“And you? Are you all right?” She looked up at him. “Do you think Rebecca is a common name?” “Why? Are you intending to … change your name?” She shot him a bored stare and shook her head. “The person who’s blackmailing my friend for a song; her name is Rebecca, too.” “It can’t be such … a coincidence.” She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” She got up and cocked her head to the side. “So, Italy.” He grinned and joined her. “We start off in Rome.” “You’ll love Rome.” “Then we’ll head down to Assisi.” She grinned. “What about Florence? And we have to go to Pisa.” “Before it actually … collapses.” She laughed and nodded, then delved into all the other places they had to go.

Chapter Eight

“We should just stay at your … house,” Christopher said while looking at the map in his hands. Chloe had at the last minute decided to stay at a hotel instead of her apartment in Rome. She didn’t mind staying at her apartment until her landlord called and asked what she wanted her to do with all the flowers Jason had been sending. Jason’s persistence was perplexing. Over the past few days, he’d been calling and texting her. She didn’t answer his calls at first, but she did read his messages. Each of his texts stated how sorry he was and begged her to forgive him. When she finally did pick up his call, she assured him that she’d forgiven him, but that wasn’t all he was seeking. He still insisted that he wanted to marry her. She trotted behind Christopher, dragging her suitcase along. “I’m afraid Jason will just show up at my apartment.” “So what if … if he shows up?” “He’s been rather whiny on the phone, and I’d rather not deal with that while we’re on holiday.” Her suitcase twisted to the side as one of its wheels dropped into the dent on the road. “Here.” Christopher grabbed her suitcase. “Let me.” “I still can’t believe you didn’t even bring a suitcase.” Christopher shrugged, jiggling his backpack. “This is more than … enough.” He looked at the map in his hand. “It should be … right ahead.” “Ah, there! I see it.” She went ahead and walked into the hotel. “Your suitcase is … rather light. Are you sure you … have enough clothes?” Christopher asked as he carried the suitcase up two flight of stairs to where the lift was. She nodded. “I’m sure the hotel has laundry services. Besides, if I do need more clothes, I can always sneak home to get them.” “Buongiorno.” The man sitting behind the wooden desk smiled and stood. “Buongiorno,” Chloe replied and proceeded to inform the man about their reservation. The man continued speaking Italian to her, glancing periodically to Christopher, who simply stood, smiled, and nodded. When she could, she let the man know that Christopher didn’t speak Italian, and that led to the usual conversation about how impressed he was with her Italian. After a couple of minutes, the man handed her two keys. “Enjoy your stay. Let me know if there’s anything you need,” the man said to Christopher. “Thanks.” They went back to the lift and waited. “This is the … the slowest lift I’ve ever seen,” Christopher said while glancing around. “It’s actually quite common in Italy. Most of the buildings are rather old.” She stepped toward the stairs and placed her hand on the wooden handrail. “But the city is beautiful.” Christopher grinned and tapped his feet against the floor. “The marble floorings you kept talking about.” “Lots of buildings in Rome have marble floorings. Makes me wonder if they’re actually cheaper here or something.”

He laughed. “Here.” She held out the two key cards. “Which room do you want?” He hesitated for a moment. “Are they next to each … other?” “Why?” She arched a brow. “Because you got the better room for me, but the smaller room for yourself?” His brows rose, but he didn’t say anything. “I speak Italian, Chris,” she said. “Did you do that for all the other hotels as well?” He flashed a smile and she frowned. “Anyway, Mike, the guy I was talking to, upgraded you so that our rooms will be next to each other.” She thrust one of her hands forward. “I don’t need a big room.” “Neither do I. It’s just for sleeping anyway.” She smiled. After placing her suitcase in the room, Christopher looked at his watch. “Do you want to get some rest?” “Yes. We’ll just go out for dinner tonight. I know just the place. Then if we’re not too tired after that, we can maybe go to the Trevi fountain.” He nodded and turned. “If you need any … anything, I’m just next door.” She grinned and leaned against the door. “I’m so glad you’re here.” When they were young, they used to talk about exploring the world together, and they had been talking about Italy since they watched the documentary on the Roman empire. It seemed somewhat unreal that they were actually in Italy together. “So am I.” “Mi scuzi.” They turned and smiled at the hotel staff holding a bottle of wine. The staff rattled off in Italian. When the staff was done speaking, she turned to Christopher with an awkward smile. “The boss wants us to have the bottle of wine.” “Looks like they love Italian-speaking people.” “They do.” She noticed how much more helpful and cheerful people were to her when she started conversing in Italian, even when she couldn’t form a proper sentence without taking at least a minute. She turned back to the staff, told him that they appreciated it, but they didn’t drink. The staff’s brows rose, but quickly nodded and went away. Chloe pursed her lips. “Do you still have the urge to drink?” His head tipped to the side. “I think the urge will always be there; that’s why they call us recovering alcoholics.” She nodded. “I’m sorry. I know Italy is known for its wine.” Chloe shrugged. “I’m not the partying kind. In fact, I’ve been told that I’m too proper.” She smiled and nudged him with her elbow. “If you ever find yourself reaching for alcohol, I hope I’ll be the first person you call before you actually touch the bottle.” “What if it’s in the middle of the night?” “Anytime,” she said. “See you tonight.”

“Are you sure you’re heading in the right direction?” Christopher asked when Chloe hooked her arm around his and leaned her weight against him. She tipped her head against his shoulder. “I can already see the colors from the fountain.” “We should’ve just taken a cab.” “Then we wouldn’t be able to experience the city.” “You mean I wouldn’t be able to experience the city.” Chloe had pointed out her apartment to him not too far back. She would have seen all the sights around this area. She shrugged and continued forward. “It’s right around the corner.” The rush of water and murmurs, along with an almost palpable sense of excitement grew as they got nearer. When they turned the corner, a bright orange glow hinted at the sight to come. People lined the other side of the road, looking down at what he assumed was the Trevi fountain. “It looks crowded.” “It always is, especially in summer,” she said. “But I think it’s much better on a cool night like this, isn’t it?” She beamed at him, her fair skin radiating under the low yellow hue.

“You’re so beautiful.” She paused and her grin grew wider. “You don’t have to say something sweet just because we’re going to one of the most romantic spots in the world.” She slipped her arm from his and took a few steps forward. The area around his arm cooled immediately. “Come on.” She cocked her head to the side and stuffed her hands into her coat’s pockets. He hadn’t meant to voice his thought aloud. He grinned and widened his strides as she half jogged across the road. She stood behind a black wrought-iron bar that came up to her hips and stared at the fountain with the widest grin. Christopher watched her as he got beside her. “You look excited. You’ve been here before, right?” She nodded. “But this is where I’ve always stood.” She grabbed his elbow and dragged him down the steps, closer to the fountain. “There’s a seat.” She pointed at a couple who had just stood from the stone steps that doubled as seats. “Hi, I’m sorry.” Christopher and Chloe stopped and looked at a young American couple. “Do you mind taking a photo of us?” Christopher smiled and took the phone from the young man. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll … be right with you.” “Okay.” Chloe gave the couple a smile and nod. He positioned the phone, but stole a peek at Chloe to make sure she was seated before turning back to the couple. “Ready? One, two, three.” He clicked on the plus button and captured the photo. “One more shot,” the young lady pleaded and leaned closer to her boyfriend. He nodded and repeated the whole procedure. “Thanks.” The lady took the phone and examined the photos. “Thanks, they look great.” “You’re … welcome.” “Wait,” the lady suddenly said. “Are you Christopher Hunter? I thought I recognized the wrong person, but your stutter—I’m sorry, I—” “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m Christopher.” “Oh, can we take a photo together?” Christopher looked at Chloe. “It’ll just take a minute.” “Eva, he’s with someone,” the man said. “Please.” Christopher sighed softly. “Yeah, sure.” The woman hopped next to him and pressed against him as her boyfriend took the photo. “Thanks!” Christopher shrugged. “You’re welcome,” he said and turned without waiting for a reply. He didn’t want to keep Chloe waiting. When he was halfway down the steps, a man approached Chloe and took a seat next to her. The man said something to Chloe, and she seemed to reply without any expression. Undeterred, the man continued talking to Chloe, who didn’t bother to reply him. He walked up to her while watching the man to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid. When he got nearer, Chloe looked up at him and broke into a brilliant smile as her hand reached out for his. He took her hand and glared at the man next to her. “Is there a problem?” “I’m just leaving.” The man stood and left. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute.” She laughed softly. “They’re professionals.” “Professionals?” “That wasn’t the first time the guy tried to pick me up. There are a couple of guys who come here to pick lonely women up. Lovely city.” She waved her hand at the fountain in front of her. “Romantic fountain, and couples all around.” He looked at the stone sculptures. One large stone sculpture of a muscular man stood under a half-dome like that of the Pantheon. Two female sculptures, one holding a basket of flowers while the other held a spear, flanked the man. The rich details in the carvings of the dresses brought out a softness that he never thought was possible in stones. The majestic sculptures were further softened by the greenish-blue water cascading down the rocks and into the pond. The soft, constant splashing of water in the background definitely set the tone of romance.

“They even have a point system. One point for getting a number, two points if the woman calls, three points if she allows the guy to kiss her.” “You’re kidding.” She shook her head. “We can come back here over the weekends, and you’ll see the same guy trying to pick someone up.” “How did you know?” “I always have my breakfast at the same cafe, and the owner warned me about them when he found out I was coming here.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Is that why you never dared to come close to the fountain?” “No,” she said, staring at the fountain, then she looked over her shoulder. “I just felt out of place whenever I was here.” She pulled her lower lip in and chewed on it before shrugging. “I don’t know why.” “You didn’t come here with … Jason?” “No,” she said and laughed. “Jason and I were never the lovey-dovey sort of couple.” As childish as he was to get jealous over Josh, he was silly enough to find that piece of information rather delightful. “Well, you’re here now.” “It’s a beautiful place, right?” “It is,” he said. “Why are you staring at me?” Clearing his throat, he blinked and looked away. He didn’t realize he was that obvious. “So, I haven’t asked you this. How … have you been for the last eight years?” She laughed softly. “All right, I guess.” “Did you think about me?” He’d been wanting to ask her that question. He watched her intently. She hesitated. “Did you think about me?” “All the time,” he answered without missing a beat. “You’re … the reason I stopped drinking.” Her brows drew closer. “After I checked myself out of rehab, I got my … hands on a bottle of … vodka and hid it under my bed. I was waiting for my mom … to … to leave the house before drinking. But right before …. she left, she popped by and … told me that Josh invited you to his birthday party.” “But I told him I wasn’t coming back.” “He seemed … fairly certain that you would,” he said and shook his head. “When … my mom left, I flushed the alcohol down … the toilet and threw the bottle into … the trash.” He paused and took a breath. “I didn’t want you to see me drunk.” “Then I’m glad I went back.” “So am I, even though … you were back for Josh.” Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted to the side, leaning away from him. “Is that what you really think? That I went back for Josh?” He’d clearly said something wrong. Chloe pinched her lips together as her eyes flitted to the side. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it before she actually said a word. “I didn’t mean … to upset you.” He took her hand. He shouldn’t be jealous over such an irrelevant detail. What mattered was that she went back, and they were on good terms again. “I’m sorry; that was childish.” Her features softened. “I’m not angry. I just thought you sounded jealous.” “And you’re angry that I’m jealous?” “I’m not angry,” she repeated. “I went back for you. When he told me about his party, I knew something was wrong with you. I didn’t know what had happened, but I knew he was worried about you.” They gazed into each other’s eyes, neither saying a word. He got to his feet before his self-control waned and he actually leaned in to kiss her. He wasn’t ready to ruin their holiday. “Let’s get someone to take our photo.” “Yeah.” She blinked and stood. “Let’s take a photo.”

Chapter Nine

After five days in Rome, Christopher and Chloe took a train to visit Pompeii. Though he felt bad about spending Chloe’s money, he had to admit that Rome was incredible. Chloe seemed to be enjoying herself as well. “This is so exciting.” Chloe looped her arm around his. “I can’t wait to get in,” she said as they trudged up the small hill toward the entrance to the remains of ancient Pompeii. Christopher grabbed two bottles of water from one of the small, makeshift shops by the side of the road and paid for them. “I can’t believe we’re here.” She took the bottle he handed her. He smiled as he heard those words. She’d said them several times over the past few days. They leaned forward at the ticket counter. “Due biglietti.” Chloe’s eyes widened. “Very good.” After listening to Chloe order all the train and bus tickets over the past few days, he’d figured out what some of the words meant. “Let’s go!” Chloe widened her steps. “ I can’t wait to explore it.” They took a couple of photos from the outside before walking up the path lined with wooden planks. Halfway through the path, the wooden planks came to an end and were replaced by large, uneven gray stones that led to the ancient city. They walked through a passage that had the same Roman arch they had seen everywhere in Rome. The only difference to the arch was the rough cut of the grayish stones, which were the opposite of the smooth and cool marble stones that never failed to amaze him. Once they stepped out on the other side of the passageway, they stopped and sighed. Chloe hooked her hand on his arm. “I can’t believe I’m really here with you.” He cupped his hand over Chloe’s and pulled his arm closer against himself, tugging Chloe along. The years that he and Chloe spent away from each other disappeared. All the disappointment, with himself and with where his singing career was gravitating toward, forgotten. It felt as if he’d only been sitting by the river with a seventeen-year-old Chloe yesterday, and they’d set out on this adventure together today. He turned his face toward her and took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, the same one he used at the hotel. “Come on.” She tugged on his arm before running ahead. Remnants of houses without roofs and with partial walls lined both sides of the roads. Chloe slipped her hand from his and ran ahead, hopping onto one of the three round elevated stones lying in the middle of the street. The surface of the stones had all been filed flat. “Let me test you; do you remember what these are for?” He grinned. “For pedestrians. So when it rains, they … can step on these elevated rocks and … keep their sandals and feet from getting wet.” “Great memory.”

He held out his hand, and she took it as she hopped down onto the lower pathway. Despite the uneven sizes and shapes of the rocks, the top had all been filed down, resulting in a rather flat and smooth walkway. “Let’s go.” She grinned brightly and pulled him along. He knew Pompeii was well-preserved, and he knew it was a town by itself, but he didn’t think it was that huge. They walked around for hours, listening to the audio guide on Chloe’s phone and taking pictures along the way. “Let’s take a seat,” he said when they got to an area where the columns that used to line a house had fallen over, leaving short stubble-like columns that now served as a fantastic resting place. Chloe nodded while he pulled out a bottle of water from his backpack. “Here.” She took the water from him and took three gulps before handing it to him. “Thanks.” “Are you … tired?” he asked. “A little.” Chloe pointed to the next stubble-like column. “Sit and rest.” “I’m fine.” He looked around at the large area in front of them. Several tourists stood in what used to be Pompeii’s plaza, the gathering area for its citizens, and posed for photos under the shadow of the surrounding buildings. There was nothing left on the square except for the gravel that covered the entire area. He glanced toward the far right, where most of the tourists were pointing their cameras toward, and saw the peak of the volcano that brought about the doom of Pompeii. Taking a step back, he took a picture of Chloe with the volcano in the background. “Are you having fun?” “Of course.” She grinned and stood. “Let’s continue before the sun sets.” She got up, forgetting that her phone was on her leg. “Ah!” She bent over to grab the phone. The moment she straightened, Christopher knew something was wrong. The focus in her eyes faded, and she swayed unsteadily. One of her hands reached toward him while the other went to her temple. He took a large step toward her and wrapped his arm across her waist, stabling her. “Chloe.” She leaned her weight against him and took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just my head; it’s spinning.” He sat her down and knelt in front of her, pushing her hair aside. Her eyes remained closed until he tipped her chin up with his finger. “Chloe, are you all right?” She nodded and smiled. “I think I got up too quickly.” She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “I’m fine.” “Here, drink some water.” He watched her as she took a sip. “Have we been walking too long?” He brushed his thumb against her cheek. “Maybe we should go.” She cupped her hand over his and pulled his hand from her face. “I’m fine.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry.” She took a step back from him. “See? I’m all right.” He narrowed his eyes even as she looped her arm around his. He checked the time and looked around, but there weren’t any shops. All that stood around them were the ruins left behind by the devastating volcano eruption. “We should get you something to eat.” “I’m fine, Chris.” “Have you been skipping meals again? You know your blood pressure gets too low.” “I’ve been with you the past few days, and I’ve been eating more than I usually did in months.” Her lips parted into a grin, but her brows suddenly drew closer. “What is it? Are you feeling faint again?” Her lips morphed into a grin again. “What’s so funny?” She cupped her hand against his face. “You’re not stuttering.” He frowned. What was she talking about? Of course he was stuttering; he always did. “You’re … dreaming.” “No, I wasn’t.” She shook her head and waved it off. “Never mind. Come on.” She tugged on his arm, but he didn’t budge. He held her by her arms and leaned in. “How are you … feeling?” She looked him right in his eyes. “I’m fine,” she said slowly. With his concern fading, he realized how close her face was to his. He wanted to lean in and close the distance between their lips, but he cleared his throat and stepped back before he did anything stupid. “Let’s go.”

Chloe placed her hands against the opposite sides of the stone wall. “The tower is really tilted,” she shouted over her shoulder at Christopher, raising her voice over the strong wind swooshing down the dark, spiral stairwell. “Be careful.” Christopher had his hand pressed against the side of the wall he was leaning on. She laughed and trotted up along with the rest of the group. When she stepped out from the stairwell, she leaned back against the wall, almost falling back due to the strong winds. Christopher was right next to her immediately, holding her waist and supporting her weight. “Told you to be careful.” She held her hair down. “The wind is so strong.” The exit of the stairway was too small for both of them to fit through, but Christopher kept his hand on her waist while she stepped through it. He remained next to her, his arm across her waist, as they strolled around the top of the leaning tower. She turned her face toward him and said, “It didn’t look that slanted from below.” “What?” He bowed his head lower just as she tipped her head back to speak into his ear. Instead of his ears, her lips ended up on his cheek. She stepped back. “I’m sorry.” His hand remained around her waist, preventing her from moving away. “The wind is strong. I don’t want to you to fall.” She pointed at the wired fence that circled the edge of the leaning tower. “I seriously doubt I can.” She didn’t dare to go too near to the edge, though. She could feel the force of the wind pushing her against her will. In the short amount of time she had been standing out on the roof, the wind had already taken over her sense of control several times. He gave her a non-committed shrug. She broke into a small smile and reached up to rub at the shiny lip imprint on his cheek. “You have a little shimmer on your cheek. But don’t worry, it brightens up your face.” “Really? Maybe I should get that shimmer on the other side as well.” Her condition gave her a better understanding of what people were saying. She could often see their real feelings behind their words, but with Christopher, she seemed to be getting it all wrong. His pinkish words hinted at a flirtatious nature, but his actions over the past few days said otherwise. They were close; they had always been before the eight years apart, but she thought there was more. It was only her imagination, of course. The trip to Italy brought them back to where they’d left off—as great friends. That was all. “Sure.” She reached into her bag and took out her lip gloss. “Here you go.” He took the lip gloss and tapped it against her nose before dropping it back into her bag. She licked her lips and went along when he tugged her toward one of the giant bells covered with patches of green corrosion. There was the proof that she was wrong and was being silly over an accidental kiss. Christopher clearly wasn’t interested in kissing her again. There had been several times when she thought he would, but he always moved away. She needed to stop dreaming. Whatever feelings she thought they shared were all in her head. He might have been interested in kissing her eight years ago, but he definitely wasn’t interested now.

Chapter Ten

Chloe stepped out of the train station and smiled as she heard the swooshing of water from the canal and the groaning of engines from the motor boats. “Venice,” she said as a UPS boat carrying stacks of parcels went by. She looped her arm around Christopher’s. The whole trip with Christopher had been fun. It was as if they hadn’t been away from each other for eight years, and she didn’t want it to end. Childish dreams of leaving everything behind to travel the world with Christopher resurfaced. They used to talk about traveling together, about seeing all the wonderful places in Europe. They were childish dreams, and she was no longer a child. Still, as much as she enjoyed being in Venice, she couldn’t ignore the undeniable sense of dread that had been growing on her. This was the last city they would be visiting together. Christopher hadn’t talked about leaving. Well, actually, she hadn’t asked him about it. He had planned and booked their flight to Milan; he’d probably booked his ticket back as well. She hadn’t asked, and she didn’t want to. She couldn’t bear thinking about it. She sighed softly, but quickly forced a smile when she noticed he was looking at her. “Do we need to take the boat?” “No, we can walk … there,” he said. “Just let me … get my bearings.” He adjusted the map in his hands and looked around at where they were standing. “Do you need help?” Chloe and Christopher looked up and saw a couple who appeared to be in their late twenties. The man wore a slightly oversized white jacket and a pair of faded jeans while the lady wore a brown leather jacket with matching boots and a dark pair of jeans. “It’s al—” “Which hotel are you staying at?” The man moved and stood next to Christopher, looking at the map. “Where are you from? America? Are you on your honeymoon?” the woman asked. Despite the sweetness in her voice, the dull red bubble surrounded by a cloud of gray gave Chloe a sense of disquiet. “From America,” Chloe said and looked over at Christopher, who was listening attentively to what the man was saying to him. “Are you on your honeymoon? The two of you look good together.” “No, we’re—” “Is this your first time in Venice?” “Actually—ah!” She staggered back as someone walking by rammed into her shoulder. The woman whom Chloe was speaking to reached out, and Chloe’s hands instinctively moved toward her. Instead of pulling her back, the woman ended up pushing her. Before Chloe knew it, she was on the floor. “Chlo!” “Oh, are you all right?” Black blots spewed from the woman’s words while she knelt next to her and dusted down her jeans and arms.

Chloe blinked, and as she did, her eyelids wiped away the blotches just as windscreen wipers did. “I’m all right,” she told the woman and leaned back. She didn’t like people she didn’t know touching her. “I’m all right.” “Chloe, are you hurt?” Christopher asked as he took her hand. She turned to him. “No.” He pulled her to her feet and stepped between her and the woman. Thanks, she mouthed. “What happened?” “I’m not sure.” She kneaded her shoulder. “Someone rammed into me and …” She thought she felt the woman pushing her, but she couldn’t be certain. Christopher took her hand and gently turned it over. “Are you sure you … aren’t hurt?” She looked down at her other arm, checking her elbow. “I’m fine; just shocked by what happened.” She glanced to the side, to the woman who was with her. The woman was nowhere to be found. Christopher pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Let’s get you to the hotel so you can … rest.” She nodded and adjusted her handbag, shifting it higher up her shoulder. Wait. She frowned and shrugged her bag off her shoulder, pulling the handles to her wrist. Her bag seemed to have gotten lighter, much lighter. She unzipped her bag and tipped her head back. “I knew something was wrong.” She put her hand through the slit at the bottom. “My wallet, phone, and passport are gone.” Christopher turned and leaned to the side. “So is your luggage.” She sighed and ran her fingers over the bottom of his backpack. “And your stuff, but I think they only got one compartment.” Christopher swung the backpack over and checked his bag. He groaned and closed his eyes. “The envelope with your … money is gone. I’m so sorry.” “Whatever for?” Even if she’d kept some of the money, it would be gone as well. She licked her lips while her eyes scanned the area. There wasn’t a point, though. The couple was long gone. She sighed again when several tourists strolled past them, staring at them with part skepticism and part confusion. She’d never been this uncertain in Italy. Now, standing outside the train station of one of the most beautiful cities in the world, she was overwhelmed by an ominous feeling that their jovial holiday had come to an end. She inhaled deeply through her nose while she tried to focus. What should she do now? “Chloe—” “I need to call the bank and cancel my cards.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. “Here. Why don’t you do that while I get us to the hotel?” “Okay.” She took his phone, but she didn’t even know what the number was. “I need wi-fi.” “The hotel should have … it.” Christopher took her hand and cocked his head to the side. “Let’s go.”

Christopher sat on the edge of the bed and watched Chloe’s hands gesture while she spoke on the phone. He’d never seen her this worked up. Once they got to the hotel, she explained to the receptionist that her things had been stolen and she didn’t have her passport. The hotel staff called the manager who said they couldn’t provide the room without a passport. Chloe dove into another heated conversation, this time in Italian, and the manager was kind enough to change their reservation to a room with double bed until Chloe could get some form of identification. And since she got her hands on the wi-fi password, she had been on the phone. He couldn’t understand what she was saying, but he could see she was agitated. Besides her opening line of ‘buongiorno,’ which Chloe had told him meant either ‘good day’ or ‘good morning’ and the ‘si, si, si,’ which meant ‘yes, yes, yes,’ he couldn’t catch anything else. She was speaking too fast. She continued pacing the room, occasionally sitting on the chair and propping her hand on the table for a couple of seconds. “Ah! Forget it!” She hung up the call and sighed heavily. “Is it bad? Have they used … your credit cards already?”

“No, it isn’t that. There were a few small transactions, but the operator says the bank will process the return once I submit the police report. The problem is, I don’t have access to my money until I have some form of identification.” He frowned, but her passport and wallet were gone. “Exactly,” she said. Christopher nodded slowly. “So … how do we get you another passport?” “We need to go to the consulate.” She paused. “In Milan. But we don’t have the money to get there.” Now he understood why she was so upset. “I tried explaining that to the bank, but all they would tell me is that they can’t allow me to access money from my account until I have proof of my identification. They just don’t get it that I can’t get my identification without my money!” She sighed and sat next to him. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have yelled. I just … I don’t know what to do.” “Actually …” Christopher went to his bag and dug into one of the compartments. “I have some money; not a lot, but I hope it’s enough to get us to Milan.” When he got addicted to drinking, he went crazy with his spendings. To say the truth, he didn’t even know where most of his money went. The only thing on his mind was getting more alcohol. He didn’t care where his money came from and where it went, as long as he had enough to get more drinks. He didn’t have much money left in his bank account, but he withdrew the last three hundred dollars and brought it with him anyway. “I’m sure we … can change the money at the … the train station or something.” Chloe broke into a huge grin. She threw her hands around his neck and kissed him on his cheek. “Oh, Chris, you saved my life!” He laughed softly, immensely pleased that he was able to get her smiling again. “It’s nothing … compared with what you’ve … spent.” She scowled at him. “All that money in the envelope and my bank can’t do a thing to help me now.” “Do you want to try … switching our train tickets that are meant for … Rome to Milan instead?” “You can’t change tickets that you bought online. I tried that once,” she said. “But I don’t mind trying again.” She took his hand and pulled him off the bed. “Let’s go. Hopefully we can get there before the consulate closes.”

Chapter Eleven

Christopher paced outside a cafe. He watched his feet as he placed one foot in front of the other, waiting for Chloe to come out from the consulate. The building structures in Milan were similar to those back in the States, so there wasn’t much to capture his attention. From the train station, silver high-rise buildings like that of offices in New York were everywhere. Further out of the main city area, shorter blocks of modern buildings dominated. He supposed all that was left of the old world would only be found in tourist areas. He aligned his right foot along the right line of the rectangular floor tile and tried to stay as close to it as he walked along. Milan was the only city with proper floor tiles paving the walkway. It would be so much easier to pull Chloe’s suitcase out here, except there wasn’t any suitcase for him to pull now. He cast a glance into the cafe. It was getting cold outside, and he wanted to get something warm to drink. He had ten euros in his pocket. He’d given the rest of the money to Chloe in case she had to pay for whatever administrative fee needed to process her passport. Ten euros should be enough for a glass of hot coffee, but he didn’t want to spend it. He wasn’t sure how long their money would last, and a little cold wouldn’t kill him. A little wine would be great, and I wouldn’t have to worry about what was going on. He shook his head and checked the time on his watch, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned around to see Chloe trudging toward him, her shoulders slumped forward as she plodded along. She glanced up from the floor once and sighed when their eyes met. Stopping a few steps away from him, she sat on the curb by the road. “What happened?” She buried her face in her hands. “We’re screwed.” “You couldn’t get your pass … port?” No, that couldn’t be. She was a US citizen; it didn’t make sense. Chloe shook her head and stared ahead. “I need my ID.” “Which was … stolen.” “That was what I said. Then they say I’ll have to give them my birth certificate.” “Is your birth certificate in … your apartment in Rome?” She shook her head again. “I have no idea where it is. They say I can get it couriered over from the state office.” “Great.” “That’s not the bad news. They need up to ten weeks to process and deliver my passport.” He blinked. “Ten weeks.” “Up to ten weeks.” “So it could be … a week.” “The lady says it usually takes six.” They really were screwed. Chloe ran her hand through her hair. “How are we going to survive six to ten weeks on nothing?” Her chest rose and fell sharply. “They asked why didn’t I make a copy of my passport. I didn’t know people do that. Did you photocopy

your passport? Why didn’t I do that?” “Chlo.” He took her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Everything will be all right.” “I don’t see how.” “Did you explain that you’re stuck here … with no money?” She nodded. “And you know what they told me?” She rolled her eyes before continuing. “I can expedite the process. I can get my passport in 24 hours after I get my birth certificate. All I need is to pay three hundred euros.” He sighed softly. “Which I would gladly pay if I had access to my bank accounts!” “I can ask my mom to … courier the money over.” He didn’t want to borrow money from his mom, but they were rather desperate. “I don’t think that’s allowed. The money might disappear in customs or end up stuck.” She pursed her lips and brushed her fingers against her nose. “I have a FedEx account, so I can have my birth certificate here tomorrow and have the courier fee charged to my account.” “Did you have to pay for … anything just now?” She shook her head. “Then we have … enough to survive for a few days.” “Then what do we do after that? Beg at the train station?” He took her hand into his and rested them on his leg. “We can set up the same con the couple did on us.” She laughed softly. “We’ll need one more person to make a team.” “We’ll find a way.” He had no idea what they were going to do, but she didn’t need to hear that now. She leaned against his shoulder, and he turned to breathe in her hair. Escaping to his alcohol was no longer an option, especially not when Chloe needed him. Besides, he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Chloe. “Let’s find something to eat, then maybe we should call it a day.” “There!” She shot upright and pointed at him. “You’re not stuttering again!” He sighed. He thought she’d come up with an idea. “You’re dreaming again.” “I’m serious, you weren’t stuttering,” she said. “I should start recording our conversations. That’s if I have a phone.” She got up on her feet. “I don’t get many calls, but I still feel weird without it.” “Take mine.” He placed his phone into her hand. “No one besides my mom calls … me.” She grinned. “Thank God all my data is uploaded onto iCloud; otherwise, we’d have lost all the photos we’ve taken.” “Funny you’re still concerned … about that.” She hooked her hand on his elbow and leaned against him. “At least we still have a roof over our heads.”

Christopher and Chloe had just stepped into the hotel when the manager noticed them. Immediately, the smile the manager had politely displayed melted into a solemn purse of the lips. The manager stepped out from behind the counter and met them halfway into the lobby. Christopher sighed softly. What else could go wrong? “I’m sorry, Miss Brooks and Mr. Hunter.” In English? This must be bad, Christopher thought. “The card you used to book the room with has been declined,” the manager said as he led them to a corner, away from the lobby. Chloe ran her hand through her hair. “You mean it hasn’t been charged to my credit card?” “We only block the amount required for your stay. We only charge it when you check out.” “And now my cards are blocked.” She turned away from them for a moment, then spun back around. “Are we being kicked out?” “Perhaps Mr. Hunter has a credit card?” Mr. Hunter didn’t, not anymore. “Can you give me a day or two? Please? I know I’m asking for a lot, but I’m good for it, I promise.” The hotel manager pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, Miss Brooks—” “I think we have enough for the night.” He looked over at Chloe. “Oh, right.” She reached into her pocket and handed the money over to the hotel manager. The hotel manager took the money and nodded. “But tomorrow?” “We’ll let you know,” Christopher said and led Chloe toward the lift. Chloe was quiet all the way to the room.

“Are you all right?” “I’m kind of desperate enough to ask someone to send me money through FedEx. Every other method will require identification, which I don’t have.” “I heard St. Mark’s Square is … beautiful at night.” She stared at him. “It’s not as if we can … change anything by sitting … here.” She closed her eyes, then crawled under the covers. “I just want to lie here.” He could barely hear what she was saying. He lay next to her, on top of the covers, and hooked his hands under his head. He grinned, then started laughing. Chloe pulled down the cover. “What’s so funny?” “Ninety-eight times.” “What?” “I’ve found and sat beside you like this ninety-eight times,” he said and laughed again. Chloe laughed softly and sat upright, shifting to lean back against the headboard. “So I owe you nine hundred and eighty dollars.” He nodded. “I can’t believe you actually counted.” “You said you didn’t hide under the covers whenever you have a problem.” “I seriously doubt I’ve only faced ninety-eight problems in my life. And don’t you think this problem is worthy of this reaction?” “No.” He got onto his feet. “This problem requires another reaction; to go out and have fun.” He stretched his hand toward her. “We still have twenty bucks to spend.” She grinned and took his hand. “The sky’s the limit, then.” He laughed and grabbed their jackets. “Let’s go.” He opened the door and pulled his jacket on, then lifted Chloe’s coat for her to slip her arms into. “As bad as this situation is …” She buttoned her coat and hooked her arm around his. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” They took a boat to St. Mark’s Square and strolled around in the low yellow light while a musician played in a corner of the square. He wasn’t sure what they were going to do tomorrow. There wasn’t any way to get the money needed for them to continue staying in the hotel, and Chloe couldn’t leave Italy without a passport. They couldn’t even go back to Rome, not when they only had twenty euros left. After pleading with her sob story, Chloe managed to change the tickets that would take them back to Rome for the tickets that took them to Milan. So now they were stuck in Venice with no way out. He stopped in the middle of the square and took Chloe’s hand, pulling her into his arms before swaying to the music playing in the background. Chloe chuckled, but didn’t step out of his arms. “Do you remember the first time I heard you sing?” He leaned his cheek against her hair. “Prom night.” Moving in closer, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Some bum fooled around with the music equipment and broke the speakers. So the music stopped, and everyone started to leave.” “But you were sad.” She looked up at him with the sweetest smile. “And as usual, you tried to make things better.” She pulled in her lower lip. “Do you remember the song you sang?” He probably did, but he was distracted by the gloss of her lips. Her brows puckered. “You forgot? You remembered that I hid under the covers ninety-eight times, but you forgot the first song we danced to.” “I didn’t forget,” he finally said. Her brows drew closer, and she took a step back. “I think your phone’s ringing.” He was tempted to ignore it and pull her back into his arms, but he hadn’t been receiving any calls. It could be important. He looked at the number and frowned. “Is it for you?” “Maybe it’s FedEx.” She took the phone and answered the call. “Yes, that’ll be me. What? The consulate didn’t tell me I have to pay for the birth certificate.” She shook her head and took a step away from him. “Okay, can you do that for me and charge it to my account?” She sighed and took another step away.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry.” Christopher turned and saw a man in a well-tailored black suit. He was immediately suspicious of him, but doubted a conman could afford such suits. “I’m so sorry if I’m interrupting, but I saw you while I was going into the restaurant. I was wondering if you’re Christopher Hunter.” Christopher frowned and took a small step away from the man. “Yes.” “Perfect! My girlfriend loves you. She burst her phone bills voting for you when you were in the competition, and she went to all your concerts.” The man paused and cleared his throat. “I’m Eric Staton, by the way.” Christopher shook his hand. “Staton.” That name sounded familiar. “Yeah, my father is Ronald Staton, the real estate tycoon.” “Oh.” Eric Staton glanced over his shoulder. “Look, I’m going to propose to Jane tonight. She’d be thrilled if you’ll sing for us.” “I can’t sing … anymore.” “Seriously? I thought that was nonsense. I don’t want to push, but I want this to be a night for her to remember. I’ll set everything up. I’ll set up a table for you and your girlfriend as well, and I’ll pay.” Christopher needed money now, and he would be happy to sing for Eric Staton and his girlfriend, but he couldn’t. “I’ll pay you five—no—ten thousand if you do it for me. I’ll tell the restaurant that you may be singing. If you can’t, then just say something nice, like ‘say yes.’ I’ll still foot the bill for the dinner no matter what. Come on, help a man out.” The money would solve all their problems, but he couldn’t sing anymore. He looked over at Chloe, who had her palm pressed against her forehead. “If I do sing for you, I need your help as well,” Christopher said. He went on to explain what had happened and their dilemma. “We need a credit card number to pay for the birth certificate from here.” Eric nodded and looked at Chloe. “That’s why she seems so troubled,” he said and pulled out his wallet. “Here.” He handed him one of his credit cards. “Charge everything you need to this card; the certificate, the hotel, and whatever travel expenses you guys need.” Christopher couldn’t believe this. “You’re just going to give me the credit card?” Eric nodded and pushed the card forward. “I may not be able to sing.” “I’m just helping a fellow American. Take the card. Even if you can’t sing for me, I want to help you out,” he said. “To tell you the truth, if you were to just show up and take a photograph, Jane will be over the moon.” “I can definitely … do that.” He took the card, still hesitant. “Take it. I’m sorry about what happened, and I want to pay for the rest of your trip while you sort out the whole passport issue.” Eric grinned. “Don’t worry, I can afford it.” Christopher returned his grin. “Do you want to see the ring?” Eric reached into his pocket and showed it to him. “Do you think she’ll like it?” A single solitaire was set on a silver band. The diamond seemed thicker than his thumb, and it gleamed even in the low lights. “I’m sure she’ll … love whatever you buy.” “Well, if you need to find a good diamond, let me know. I’ll hook you up.” Christopher laughed and nodded. “All right, I’ll head in first.” Eric pointed to the restaurant behind him. “I’ll set everything up. Just let them know who you are, and I’m sure the manager will handle the rest.” “All right,” he said. “And Eric, thanks.” He waved the card. “No problem.” Christopher turned back to Chloe, who was still on the phone. “Mom, please, I don’t need this right now.” He was surprised to hear her talking to her mom. He didn’t think Chloe would ever turn to her mother for help. Since young, whenever she had a problem, she knew her best bet was to solve it herself. “Yes, I stayed at your house for a night. I’ll pay the rent, pro-rate it, and I’ll send you a check. Fine! I’ll pay for the whole month.” She clenched her jaws and fist. “Chloe,” he said as he placed his hand on her back. She rolled her eyes when she turned to him, then she covered the mouthpiece. “I should never have called her.”

“Hang up,” he whispered. She frowned. “She’s the only one who can order the certificate for me.” Christopher took the phone from her. “Mrs. Brooks, Chloe has to go.” He hung up the call and waved the credit card he was holding. “You can order your own certificate.” Her brows drew closer. “Where did you get that?” “You just need to know that it works.” She took the card as he handed it to her. “Eric Staton? Who’s he?” “Son of Ronald Staton.” “And who’s that?” He laughed softly. “A multi-billionaire.” “You know a multi-billionaire and ran into him here?” Her head began swaying. “Am I dreaming?” “I don’t know him, but he knows me and he offered to help.” “Wow, really?” Chloe stared at the card and turned it around in her hands as if she couldn’t believe she was holding on to Eric Staton’s credit card. “Are you sure this isn’t another scam?” Christopher couldn’t say for certain. It did seem too good to be true. “He didn’t take anything from me, and he gave me this. Why don’t you try it?” She shrugged. “No harm giving it a try.” Chloe got on her phone, and her lips morphed into a wide grin after a few minutes. “Yes, all right. Thanks.” She hooked her arms around his shoulders and gave him a tight hug. “You saved our lives again.” “Let’s go have dinner, then. Eric is buying.” He led her forward. “The restaurant is right over there.”

Chapter Twelve

Chloe exhaled heavily as she and Christopher made their way toward the restaurant. “What’s wrong? Did your … mother say something to upset you?” Her mother never failed to do so, but she smiled and shook her head. “Who cares. Thanks to you, my birth certificate is on the way, and I’ll be able to get my passport expedited. All is well again.” He grinned. Standing outside the long glass doors with wooden frames, Chloe looked into the restaurant, then down at her own clothes. “Maybe we should just have dinner elsewhere. I don’t think we’re dressed right. They’re all wearing suits and dresses.” “I promised to have dinner with him.” He smiled at the waiter, who opened the door. “I’m Christopher Hunter, Mr.—” “Ah! Yes, my manager has informed us.” The waiter signaled to another person, who was wearing a black suit instead of a uniform. “I’ll take your girlfriend to the table, and my manager will be with you in a second.” Chloe looked over at Christopher. “Where are you going?” “I’ll be right back,” Christopher said. Chloe frowned and looked between the manager and Christopher. “Don’t worry.” She nodded and followed the waiter to a table in the corner of the restaurant. She glanced over her shoulders, trying to see where Christopher was going. “Mr. Staton said to order anything you like.” The waiter handed her a menu with a smile, then turned and left. She placed the menu down and twisted to the side, scanning the restaurant. She found Christopher at the other end of the restaurant, pacing behind the piano placed right next to an ensemble of musicians. As he walked up and down the side of the piano, his hand moved up and down in front of his chest. He always did that whenever he was running through a tune in his head. For a moment, it felt as if she were watching him audition for the singing competition. Her lips curled as she recalled how she held her breath while she waited for the judges’ reactions. She knew, from the very moment he opened his mouth, that he would win the competition. But why was he doing that now? She turned back to the table. The table was only set for two, so they weren’t joining Eric Staton for dinner. Pursing her lips, she looked at Christopher again. He was still drawing circles in the air. He’s definitely running a tune in his head. She continued watching him as he stopped pacing and entered a discussion with the pianist. After a couple of minutes, he smiled politely at the pianist, shook his hand, and made his way toward her. The restaurant manager intercepted halfway through and mumbled something to Christopher before handing him a microphone. Is he going to sing? “Chris,” she said when he pulled out his chair, all the while staring at the microphone he was holding. “Did you promise you’ll sing for Mr. Staton? Was that why he gave you the card?” As much as she believed he would sing again, she wasn’t sure if he could sing right now—under pressure. “I don’t have to sing … if I can’t.”

She frowned. “Then what’s the microphone for?” “To say some … thing nice,” he said. “If I can sing, then … I’ll sing. If not, then show … up and take a photo.” She sighed softly. “I should’ve been more careful with my bag. I’m so sorry. It’s because of me that you’re in this position.” “Hey.” He reached over and took her hand. “What happened wasn’t … your fault.” She turned her hand over and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You know I believe with all my heart that you’ll sing again.” He gave her a small smile. “Regardless if you actually sing tonight, I know you’ll be able to sing again.” She leaned in closer. “My heart melts each time I hear you sing. Each time you sing, it just …” She closed her eyes and imagined him singing. “The words, whatever they are, always go right to my heart.” She laughed softly. “I’m sorry I can’t describe it better. It’s just this …” She looked away, trying to come up with a word to complete her thought, but she got distracted by the soft tug of her chin. She turned back to him as he leaned over and kissed her. Her lips parted and she returned his kiss. The first kiss had been exhilarating; that was before the guilt set in. She had nothing to be guilty about this time; and this time, she was sure. It wasn’t just his voice that melted her heart; it was him.

Christopher almost groaned when he heard the soft clearing of throat. He broke from the kiss and took a quick moment to observe Chloe’s reaction. There wasn’t an ounce of shock, fear, or guilt. She broke into a smile as she sat back against her chair, and he took a moment to run his thumb under the edge of her lower lip before dropping his hand. The restaurant manager smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter; I thought you’d want to know that Miss Clarke is here.” Christopher looked over at Eric Staton’s table, which was quite a few tables away, and nodded. “Okay,” he said to the restaurant manager, then turned back to her with a grin he couldn’t get rid of. “I shouldn’t say this, but I’m glad Jason cheated.” She laughed softly and licked her lips. “Me, too.” She cast a glance over to Eric Staton’s table. “What’s the occasion?” “He’s proposing.” “Oh.” She grinned and nodded. “Is he proposing after dinner?” “That was his plan, but he thought … he’d move it up, in case she recognizes me.” She nodded. He didn’t want to focus on what he had to do next and wonder if he would be able to sing. “Let’s order something … for you to eat.” He picked up the menu, trying to distract himself. “I don’t want anything; I’m not hungry.” “But … the only thing you’ve eaten all day is the sandwich we shared this … afternoon. You must be starving.” “I’m fine.” Chloe stole another glimpse of Eric Staton’s table. “I think that’s your cue.” “Oh! Christopher Hunter!” Jane Clarke’s excitement was obvious, and everyone in the restaurant turned to their table. He inhaled deeply through his nose and grinned. “You have an amazing voice,” Chloe said softly. He gave Chloe’s hand a squeeze, picked up the microphone, and stood. “Hi, Jane.” Jane Clarke pressed her hands over her lips, seemingly trying to keep another squeal in. When the restaurant’s lights dimmed, she gasped and turned to Eric Staton, mumbling something. My heart melts each time I hear you sing. He looked over at Chloe, who was smiling sweetly at him, as she always did whenever he looked out at her from stage. He wanted more than just to avoid her disappointment; he wanted to make her happy, to keep her smiling. His eyes flickered over to the musicians. The entire band was looking at him, their hands ready on the various music instruments. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath.

He could hear the melody of If running in his head, and he knew the lyrics to the song. He opened his eyes and nodded at the musicians. He had to try. As soon as the music started, his mind went blank. He couldn’t find his voice, and the lyrics disappeared from his mind. He could see the anticipation and hope on Jane’s face, but he couldn’t do it. He clenched his jaws and took a deep breath. “I love this song.” His eyes met Chloe’s. “I actually sang this song at prom for a girl I was head over heels in love with.” It took him a moment to remember why he was holding the microphone. He looked right at Jane Clarke. “Just as Eric is in love with you.” He took a peek of Chloe and closed his eyes again. He imagined holding Chloe in his arms, just as he did when they were at prom, just as he did when they were on the square. All he could think about was how beautiful Chloe looked when she smiled, then he caught the melody, the lyrics came back to him, and he opened his mouth and sang. He almost couldn’t believe it when he heard himself, and he didn’t dare open his eyes. When he finally did, he immediately searched for Chloe. Only when he spotted her brilliant grin was he certain he wasn’t dreaming. Look at her, Chloe mouthed and jerked her thumb toward Eric Staton’s table. Right. He willed himself to shift his focus back to Jane. When the song came to an end, Jane was beaming at him. She seemed ready to run over and give him a hug, but that day wasn’t about him. “Jane, you’re the luckiest … girl I know. Because you have … a boyfriend who’s willing to do … anything to see you smile.” Jane turned to Eric with a most blissful smile, just as Eric stood and took her hand. Christopher couldn’t hear what Eric was saying, but after a moment, Eric got down on one knee and opened the box in his hands. “Yes!” Jane wiped her tears away and threw her hands over Eric’s shoulders. Christopher returned to his seat, and Chloe reached over to grab his hand. “You were amazing. I knew you could do it.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “It—” “Hi, I’m sorry, Mr. Hunter.” Christopher looked up at Jane and smiled politely. “Congratulations.” “I’m such a huge fan. I knew the gossips weren’t real. Thanks for doing this. Thank you. I can’t believe Eric convinced you to do this for me.” Eric was right beside her, his hand around her waist. “Join us for dinner.” “No,” he said. “Tonight is about the … two of you. We should go.” “But you haven’t had your dinner,” Eric said. “I’m sure there’s another … restaurant that can serve us.” Jane finally looked over at Chloe. “Oh, it’s true.” Jane took a step toward Chloe. “I don’t care how you guys got together; I knew the two of you were meant for each other when I saw how he looked at you during the competition.” How you guys got together? “What do you mean?” Christopher asked. “You don’t know?” Christopher looked over at Chloe, who simply shrugged. “There’s a rumor that you cheated on your boyfriend to be with Christopher,” Jane said. “I’m just glad I met you here.” Eric stretched his hand forward, and Christopher took it. “Thanks.” “Can we take a photo?” Jane asked. “I’ll take it for you,” Chloe said and stood, reaching for the phone in Jane’s hand. “No, no. I want you in the photo, too.” Jane waved a waiter over. “And Chris, I’ve spoken to my assistant about the problem you and your girlfriend are facing. She’ll help you guys with it.” Eric handed him a name card. “That’s Kelly’s number, and this is mine.” “I’ve already ordered my birth certificate,” Chloe said as Christopher took his card. “I’ll head down to Milan tomorrow to start the process to get my passport.” “You lost your passport?” Jane asked. “Kelly is a miracle worker. Scary, but amazing.” Chloe frowned, staring at the name card. “Scary?”

“She’s the no-nonsense sort,” Eric said. “But she gets things done. She’s a fan of yours as well, so I’m sure she’ll be extra helpful. Call her.” They put their conversation on hold and took a few more photos. After another round of thanks and a hug from Jane, Christopher and Chloe left. “You made her day,” Chloe said as they stepped out of the restaurant. Christopher took her hand, his fingers intertwined hers. He should be thrilled with getting his voice back. He should be shouting for joy that he could sing again, but he found himself fixated with the joy from Chloe’s face. There was only one thought on his mind; to kiss her again. “I knew your voice never left you.” He stopped and took her other hand. “I was singing for you. All the love songs … I’ve ever sung, they were all for you.” He leaned in and grazed his lips against hers. “And they’ll always be about you.” She grinned and gave him a peck. He cupped his hand against her face and deepened his kiss.

Christopher sat on the chair and leaned forward on the desk in the hotel room while Chloe showered. Chloe settled the billing with the hotel manager while he called Eric’s assistant, Kelly. Kelly already knew what had happened. She asked him a few questions, which he thought was rather irrelevant, but he answered her anyway. Now that they were back in the hotel room, he wanted to check out the rumor Jane had told them about. He entered Chloe’s password into her laptop and ran a search, using a combination of both their names on Google. Right on the front page, on the very first link, Songwriter Cheated On Boyfriend To Be With Christopher Hunter. He clicked on the link and scanned through the article. The article itself didn’t put Chloe down. It merely stated her supposed cheating as a choice. She chose him over Jason, but when he continued down to the comments, his jaws clenched at all the derogatory comments about Chloe. None of these people knew her, knew what had actually happened, but all of them were jumping on her. He clicked on the comment link and started typing a defend for Chloe. “What are you doing?” He looked up and found Chloe staring at the laptop screen. He was so engrossed in typing his comment that he hadn’t realized Chloe was out of the bathroom. “That’s sweet of you.” She reached over and closed her laptop. “But unnecessary. There isn’t a need to engage in a war of words. Nobody’s going to believe that the real Christopher Hunter is the one who typed the comment anyway.” “I don’t like what they’re saying.” “Remember what I said about ignoring all the media nonsense?” “But they’re not talking about me; they’re talking about you.” She smiled and sat on the bed. “It doesn’t matter who they’re talking about. I think you shouldn’t look at them at all. People are mean on the Internet. They think they can say whatever they want because they’re hiding behind a username. Just ignore them. You can’t please everyone.” He took her hand and ran his thumb across her knuckles. What Chloe said was reasonable, but he still wasn’t ready to back down. He didn’t like seeing what those people wrote about her. The article lied, and she shouldn’t have to take the fall for what happened. He couldn’t stand the idea of her being blamed, being put down, especially knowing what she used to go through with her parents every day. “I’m fine.” She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. She always seemed to know what he was thinking without him having to voice his thoughts. “I assure you that I don’t have any intention of reading the comments, so those words won’t hurt me in any way.” She kissed him on his cheek and went back into the bathroom to hang her towel. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask them to change the room. I’m exhausted, and the idea of having to move again was such a turn-off. And I feel bad about charging another room to Eric’s card.” “I’m fine with it.” They had sleepovers and fallen asleep on the same couch before. But that was him. “I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

“Don’t be silly. I always sleep at the edge of the bed. There’ll be more than three-quarters of a bed for you to toss around in.” “I don’t toss around.” She shrugged. “Then we’ll be all right. Do you mind if I head to bed first?” “Go ahead.” She got into bed, then looked up at him. “Promise you won’t think about that article or the comments anymore.” He sighed softly, then went over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Goodnight.” Her brows drew closer. “All right, I promise I’ll let that go.” “Goodnight.” She tipped her head back and kissed him. “Goodnight,” he mumbled before prying himself from her and entering the bathroom.

Chapter Thirteen

“Mr. Morgan, Miss Grant is waiting in your office.” Jason groaned and hurried ahead. When he opened the door, Rebecca was just settling back into her seat. He would have to let his new secretary know that she should never allow Rebecca to wait in his office. “Hi, Rebecca, what can I do for you today? Not here for more information about Chloe’s cheating, are you?” “I wasn’t the one behind that. I’ll never do anything to hurt Christopher’s reputation.” He took a glance at the files on his table. There didn’t seem to be anything too important that were meant for his eyes only. He shrugged and settled into his seat. “Then you won’t care that I’ll be making a statement to confess that I was the one who cheated, which led to our breakup.” She arched her brow. For once, Jason thought Rebecca looked sincerely curious. “My grandfather loves her. He’s demanding that I make that statement. I’m the idiotic grandson who cheated, so I should be the one taking the fall. That’s how he sees it anyway.” And as selfish as he was, he did like Chloe. She had always been nice to him, and she’d always helped when he got into trouble with his grandfather. “Good, I was going to ask you to do that anyway.” “You really do care about Christopher, don’t you?” He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Rumor has it that they’re an item now.” Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment. “Christopher is singing again,” she said and rearranged her features into a polite smile. “He is?” She took out her phone, tapped on the screen several times, then slid the phone toward him. “What’s this?” “Eric Staton’s proposal.” He sighed softly as he saw the way Christopher was looking at Chloe, and most important, how Chloe was looking at him. He got together with Chloe because he knew how fond his grandfather was of her, and she had been a great girlfriend. She wasn’t clingy, she didn’t check on his movements, and she was fine if he forgot about their anniversary. Besides, she had always been there for him, and he’d grown rather fond of her as well. His thoughts returned to the video when Christopher started singing. “He has the voice of an angel,” Rebecca said. He rolled his eyes and straightened. “So you want me to promote his next album.” “Song. I need you to express your interest to the record company.” “I see. They want to drop him, but you’re making sure that it doesn’t happen.” She picked up her bag. “I hope you’ll make your interest known to the record label as soon as possible.”

“I’ll make the call now.” He would do whatever he had to just so he could get her to leave, but he had something to add. “Leave Chloe out of whatever you’re planning.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I don’t know what you’re up to, but don’t pull Chloe into your mess.” A corner of Rebecca’s eye twitched. “What makes you think you’re in the position to speak to me like this?” Jason exhaled silently through his nose and displayed his most pretentious smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” “That’s better.” Rebecca grabbed her bag and stood. “Not for now.”

“Wow, is this real?” Chloe ran her hand across the cover of her new passport. Her overnight courier hadn’t even arrived, and Kelly already managed to get her passport. Chloe looked up at the middle-aged woman. Kelly’s dark brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail. The collars of her white shirt rested neatly over her black well-fitted blazer. If Chloe hadn’t known better, she would think Kelly was a lawyer. “How did you get this?” she asked, her hands still fiddling with the passport. One of Kelly shoulder’s twitched. She shared a look with Christopher, then turned back to Kelly. “This is real, right?” “Of course,” Kelly said, seemingly insulted. “I’m sorry. It just seems impossible. They won’t even let me start the process to get my passport, but you got it overnight. I know I’m holding it, but I can’t believe it’s in my hands.” Kelly’s smile returned. “I got it this morning. I called a previous hotel you were staying at and asked for the photocopy of your passport.” “Oh, that’s why you asked where … we were staying before this.” Kelly nodded. “Everything is legal. Don’t worry.” Chloe stared at her passport. It still didn’t explain how Kelly got her passport when she wasn’t even there to sign whatever document was required, but she didn’t care. She got her passport. “Thanks. I don’t know what else I can say.” Kelly reached to her side and picked up two large bags. “Clothes. Your suitcase got stolen, right?” “You bought clothes for me?” Chloe didn’t think the bags were for her. She thought Kelly had gone shopping before meeting them. She had changed into Christopher’s T-shirt and sweatpants last night and wore back her only set of clothes today. “I went to your Facebook page and chose the clothes based on your photos, and Miss Clarke said you’re the same size as she is. The clothes have been washed, so you can wear them right away.” “Wow.” Chloe didn’t know what else to say. “I’m not done,” Kelly said with a proud grin. She picked up the last bag on the floor. “A new cell phone. Sorry, but I’ve opened it so that I could charge it last night. Your new SIM card is already inside. It’s the same number, and you can start using it immediately.” “You’re a … miracle worker.” Kelly’s smile grew wider. “Anything for you and your girlfriend,” she said to Christopher. “I’ve also taken the liberty to get you a new phone. It’s in that bag, too.” She pointed to the paper bag Chloe was holding. “I know couples like to have the same phone model.” “My phone is … fine.” “It’s already paid for anyway.” Kelly took a sip of water and continued. “Both phones have been configured to English, so don’t worry. I’ve also booked two rooms at the hotel Mr. Staton is staying in. Here are the keys. I’ll have someone pick your things up from the current hotel and move everything there.” “Oh, there’s no need. We’re fine with the hotel we’re staying at. You’ve already done so much for us.” “Mr. Staton insisted,” Kelly said. “Also, I’ve ordered another suitcase for you. It’ll be in your room when you get back.” Chloe shook her head. “Kelly, you must be superwoman.” “Mr. Staton pays me to be efficient.” “You’re way more than efficient. You’re thoughtful, resourceful, meticulous, and …” Chloe laughed. “As Jane said, a miracle worker.” “Thank you.” Kelly looked over at Christopher as she pulled out a white envelope. “Mr. Staton says you can hang on

to his card. But I’ve gotten another card for you, deposited with the payment Mr. Staton promised.” “Oh—” “He insisted.” Kelly pushed the envelope to Christopher. “The money has been deposited, and the card is under your name. No one else can withdraw the money now.” Chloe was certain Kelly could. “Then we don’t need his card … anymore.” Christopher returned Eric Staton’s credit card to Kelly. “And I’ll pay back whatever we used when I can get my hands on my money.” “Would you like me to settle that for you?” Kelly asked. Chloe smiled and shook her head. “You’ve done more than enough.” “Is there anything else I can do for either of you? Will you be going anywhere after Venice? I can make arrangements for you. Mr. Staton says he wants to pay for the rest of your trip.” “No, this is the last leg of our holiday.” “Well, there’s a whole world out there. Think about it. If the two of you want to extend your holiday, just give me a call.” Chloe and Christopher nodded. “All right.” Kelly stood and hesitated before sitting back down. “I know this is completely unprofessional.” She took a deep breath and pulled out a stack of CD albums from her bag. “But will you sign them for me? I got all your CDs.” Christopher laughed. “I’ll be glad … to.” “Do you want a photo?” Chloe asked. “I can take it for you.” Kelly’s eyes lit up. “Really?” “Yeah,” Christopher said. “After all you’ve done for us, it’s the least I can do.” Kelly couldn’t stop grinning while Christopher signed the albums. “Will you be writing more songs for Mr. Hunter?” Chloe looked at Kelly, not saying anything. Not many people knew who she was or that she’d written a song for Christopher. “That’s my favorite song,” Kelly said. “It suits him so well, and the lyrics …” She smiled. “I hope you’ll write another song for him.” “I already have. It isn’t completed, but it’s in the works.” Christopher signed the last copy and handed the albums back to Kelly. “That’s great. I can’t wait to listen to your next album.” After taking the photo, Kelly left them to have their lunch. “She’s amazing.” Chloe looked through the clothes in one of the bags. “I can’t believe she did her research before getting the clothes, and she got them washed for me.” “And your passport.” “Yeah.” She set the bag of clothes down and switched on her new cell phone. Exhaling heavily, she relaxed against her chair. “Thank God for Kelly.” “I think we should keep her … number,” Christopher said and laughed. “I think you should.” She looked over at her phone that was vibrating away with text messages. “I thought you didn’t get a lot of calls.” She sighed softly when she saw the number on the screen. “It’s my mother. I think she’s probably pissed off that I hung up on her.” “You didn’t; I did.” She rolled her eyes. It wouldn’t make a difference to her mother. “I didn’t think you’d call … her.” “The State Department said that if I can’t pay for my birth certificate, then the only other people who could do so would be my parents. I can’t call my dad. I had a falling out with him soon after we got to London, and I haven’t spoken to him since.” “It’s been years; I’m sure he doesn’t still hold a grudge.” “He has no right to hold a grudge,” she said. “I don’t regret my decision. If given the chance to redo things, I would’ve done the same thing, especially when I found out he was still going behind my back pretending to be all pathetic.” “What happened?” She took a sip of water and shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about her parents. “Forget it. It was a long time ago.” Christopher smiled and shrugged.

She licked her lips as she watched him. He had always been patient with her inability to voice things out. Whatever happened with her father happened a long time ago, which was precisely why she should be able to talk about it. Besides, she did tell him that it was good to talk about things. “Did you know my father was cheating on my mother back at home?” “In Dunsmuir?” She nodded. “Apparently that was why my mother insisted that he accept the transfer to London. She thought that by moving away, everything would be all right.” “But it wasn’t.” “And he used me. He introduced the woman to me. She was nice to me. I didn’t know she was the mistress. But when my mother found out that I had been in contact with the woman, she accused me of betraying her.” “But you didn’t know.” Chloe shrugged. “She was bitter; she’s always been. In hindsight, I can’t blame her. Imagine having to live with a husband who comes home each night as if the whole world owed him. You’d be bitter, too.” For as long as she remembered, her parents’ relationship had been bad. She never understood why her mother didn’t just get a divorce. “So you stopped talking to him?” “That wasn’t the reason why I stopped talking to him.” She checked her phone, rolling her eyes as she read the texts from her mother telling her once again what a useless person she was. “He kept sending texts that were meant for his mistress to me. At first, I pretended as though I didn’t receive anything, but the texts kept coming. I grew irritated and confronted him. And instead of admitting his mistake, he laughed awkwardly and told me I must have been dreaming. Then he continued laughing and tried to rub my head as he said how I’m always imagining things. “I wasn’t five anymore, so I stood my ground and told him to stop. After that, he stormed into the kitchen, then opened and slammed every cabinet door he could. When I chose to ignore him, he sent me a text, stating that since I was so unhappy with him, I could forget about getting a single cent from him for school, which was fine with me. I thought I’d simply get a loan, but then he went ahead and pulled me out of school. He pulled me out of the Royal Academy of Music!” Just thinking about that made her boil. She exhaled slowly, reminding herself to calm down. “He did all this to force me to apologize to him for being tired of receiving his texts for his mistress or mistresses. When I found out, I tried to explain to my school that it was a mistake and begged them to take me back. But it was too late, they’d given my spot away.” “He ruined your chances of getting a good education because he couldn’t admit his mistake?” “That still wasn’t why I stopped talking to him completely,” she said and laughed when he arched his brow. “I was already in a cold war with him when my mom caught him with another woman. They brought their fight home, of course. And when he saw me, he said to her face that I knew all along and helped him cover it up.” “What?” “My mother was so angry that she threw both my dad and me out. Thank God a neighbor took me in. After that, my neighbor helped me with my scholarship application to Paris. And in the meantime, he actually went around my back and told my neighbor that I was refusing to talk to him even though I was the one who caused the whole thing. He acted all pathetic, as if he was the one suffering because of my mistake.” “What a jerk. I always … knew he was pretentious, but he exceeded all … expectations.” She gave him a half-shrug. “I was sitting on the stairs and heard the whole conversation. He didn’t know I was there, but I heard the whole thing. The funny thing was, I wasn’t surprised at all. I wasn’t surprised to hear my father talking all that crap.” “Because he’d been giving you crap your whole life.” She laughed. It was so easy talking to Christopher. She didn’t have to explain much nor defend her decision to ignore her father. She knew how ungrateful it sounded for a child to want nothing to do with her parents. But she didn’t have to explain anything to Christopher. “Yeah, I think so.” He shrugged. “So, you went to school in … Paris.” “On full scholarship.” She grinned. “I stayed with my neighbor until I went to Paris.” “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” “You didn’t know. Anyway, everything is good now. I have my own place, sort of, and I earn enough to make sure I’m in a different country, or at least a different city, from where they are.”

“Are they still together?” “They’re still together. She took him back after a week or so. They’re still living under the same roof; they just don’t talk to each other and stay in separate rooms.” “And she … didn’t ask you to come home?” Her brows flickered up. “Did you explain what happened?” “She asked me how she was supposed to trust me when I kept the text messages from her in the first place.” Christopher’s face was emotionless. He didn’t say a word, and she figured it was because he didn’t know what to say. “You knew my parents. They’ve always been somewhat crazy, and I’ve always kind of lived in my own world.” “Yeah, but to kick you out?” “She did pay for therapy. My neighbor confronted my mother and told her that she shouldn’t put me through this, so my mother offered to pay for therapy. Isn’t she sweet?” Christopher shook his head as he rubbed his fingers against his chin. “So I went for … ten sessions? I think. That was where I learned the whole talking-is-good concept. Then I went to Paris.” She smiled when he remained quiet. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was never close to them anyway.” “So when we go back, you have every reason to continue staying at your own house.” “Hmmm, I don’t know. I love Rome, you know.” “Kelly went through all that effort to get your passport. You have to use it.” She laughed. “I do love the house you built as well.”

Chloe broke from Christopher’s kiss and leaned back on the door. “Goodnight,” Christopher said, his hand still resting on her neck. She giggled. “I think that’s the third time you’ve said that.” They ordered room service after a day of exploring. They had their dinner while watching a movie in her hotel room. After a whole day together and a three-hour dinner, they still couldn’t leave each other. He grinned and leaned in again. She threw her hands over his shoulders and kissed him back. Weaving his hand into her hair, he pulled her closer against him. One of her hands slipped down from his shoulder and clutched his shirt. When Christopher took a step back, a series of clangs sounded, startling both of them. She looked down and laughed when she noticed Christopher had stepped onto the tray that held their empty plates. Christopher laughed as well. “Goodnight,” she said for the third time that night. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” They got into another long kiss before Christopher broke it off, gave her a peck on her forehead, then took the five steps to his own room. “Goodnight.” He grinned as he opened his door. She grinned sheepishly, then went back into her room. She had just closed the door when her phone began vibrating on the table. She supposed it was her mother and was about to ignore it when she realized it wasn’t her phone. She had left her phone on the dresser. That was Christopher’s phone. Once she got closer to the phone, she noticed the name on the screen. Rebecca Grant. “Sorry, he left his phone in my room,” Chloe said once she picked up the call. “I’ll call him back.” Rebecca hung up without another word. Chloe frowned at the phone, at the lack of colors. Between having to write a song for Ella and getting all excited about this trip, she’d pushed Rebecca to the back of her mind. Chloe strode out of her room and pressed the bell outside Christopher’s room. “You left your phone behind,” she said when he opened the door. He grinned. One of his hands took the phone while the other reached toward her waist. As much as she would enjoy more time with him, she had something else on her mind. “Goodnight.” She gave him a light peck on his cheek, flashed a smile, and half jogged back to her room. Once she was in her room, she grabbed her laptop and got on the Internet to run a search on Rebecca.

Various articles mentioned Rebecca, mostly as passing statements about her being Christopher’s personal assistant. There wasn’t anything interesting until another name caught her eye; Nicole Lane. Apparently, Rebecca had been Nicole’s personal assistant for a couple of months. That was too much of a coincidence. She tried searching for more details on Rebecca, but there wasn’t anything about her before she entered the music industry. She licked her lips as she closed her laptop. There couldn’t be too many Rebeccas linked to Nicole Lane. Perhaps she should personally hand Nicole the song instead of giving it to Ella.

Chapter Fourteen

Chloe took Christopher’s outstretched hand. After grabbing her suitcase from the conveyor belt, he led her toward the exit. “I’m kind of sad that we’re home.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “I don’t care where we are as long as I’m with you.” “Aww.” She pressed her shoulder against him. Once they stepped out of the departure gate, screams sent different colors rushing toward them. She gasped, and Christopher draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s all right,” he said and continued dragging her forward. With another deep breath, she opened her eyes. “What’s going on?” “Christopher! Christopher!” A throng of female fans screamed and bent forward, stretching their hands toward them. Some of the fans held pen and paper; some held out markers and Christopher’s CDs. Those who weren’t pushing anything toward them were busy snapping pictures. “Christopher!” She hurried along with Christopher’s warm arm holding her firm against him. The security of his arm around her didn’t stop the colors from swamping her, and they were beginning to make her dizzy. She cringed her eyes shut, but it was too late; the effect was already taking hold of her. She reached up and grabbed a fistful of Christopher’s shirt. “I don’t feel well.” She felt Christopher’s arm tighten around her. “Where are your earphones?” Her legs gave way, and she couldn’t breathe. She panted, struggling to breathe while the colors fogged her sight. “Stop! Please lower your volume,” Christopher said to the crowd. He placed his index finger against his lips. Amazingly, the crowd complied. “She has synesthesia. Loud sounds can be … overwhelming for her.” The screams ceased and a hushed ‘shh’ spread across the crowd. “Thank you.” Christopher turned back to her and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Deep breaths.” She nodded and took in a deep breath. “Better?” She exhaled slowly. “Yes.” He pushed her hand through her hair and gave her a peck on her forehead. “Where are your earphones?” “In my bag.” She reached for her bag, but Christopher took it for her and grabbed her earphones. He placed them over her ears, smiled, and said something as the colors and images disappeared from her sight. “I can’t hear you.” Good, he mouthed. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a fan waving a bottle of water. Christopher went over, took the bottle, and came back to her. “Here.” He opened the bottle and watched her take a sip. “Better?”

She forced a smile and nodded with a sigh. “Thanks,” she said to the fan. Helping her to her feet, he said something to the crowd again. He took her hand and moved toward the crowd, signing a couple of autographs with his free hand. She gently pulled her hand from his. “You go ahead. I’ll just …” She looked over her shoulder. He grabbed her hand and shook his head, then lifted one side of her earphones. “I’m not letting you go anywhere on your own.” The same fan who gave her the bottle of water waved again. Her finger pointed between the two of them and gestured for a photo. “Oh.” She laughed and shook her head. “No. You go ahead,” she said to Christopher. Christopher frowned, wrapped his arm across her waist, and posed for a photo. He kept his arm around her while he signed a few more autographs, then waved and led her away from the crowd. When they got into the taxi, she pressed her face into her hands to get rid of the lingering numbness on her face. “Are you all right?” She nodded and dropped her hands. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have opened my eyes.” “Don’t be silly. You didn’t know that would happen or you’d have your earphones ready.” He ran his hand through the ends of her hair. “Why did you keep trying to move away when I was signing the autographs?” “I didn’t want to interfere with your work.” His head tilted and his frown deepened. “So the next time someone comes up and asks for a photograph, you’ll walk away again?” “Yes,” she said, not understanding the etch between his brows. “No, you don’t walk away.” “You’re the one they want a photo with, not me. I don’t want to be in the way.” Christopher took her hand and leaned forward. “You’re not in my way; you’ll never be in my way. I … don’t care who wants what, but I never want you to walk away from me.” “Chris.” “Remember what you said about me losing my … heart? I found it.” “Yes, and you found your voice.” “Because I found you again.” She broke into a smile before she could stop herself. “Is that a line from one of your songs?” Christopher shifted closer to her and tightened his hand. “With me, you never have to walk away. I don’t ever want you to feel as if you don’t … belong. You’ll always have a place next to me.” She sighed softly and parted her lips as he closed the gap between them.

Over a million views already! Chloe grinned when she saw Josh’s text message. She turned to Christopher and showed him what Josh had sent. Eric Staton had hired a videographer to film his entire proposal, and Jane Clarke had uploaded the video online immediately. Two days after that, on their last day in Venice, Christopher got a call from Rebecca. She told him that the record label was interested in planning his return and recording a single. “So, are you taking up the offer?” she asked. “Provided it’s your song.” She smiled and stepped out of the taxi while he paid the driver. She looked up at the Alice-blue house and waved at Amy, who was looking at them through the window. The front door flew open and Amy came running out. Chloe thought Amy was going to give Christopher a hug. Instead, Amy pulled her into a tight hug, so tight that it forced the air out of her lungs. “Mom!” Chloe coughed and laughed when Amy released her and did the same to Christopher. “Josh showed me the video. You sang so well.” Amy turned to Chloe again and gave her another hug. “Thank you.” “It wasn’t because of me; it—” “It was.” Chloe shrugged it off. “Let’s go in,” Amy said, then paused and turned to her. “Oh, your mom called.”

“She wants the rent for the house.” Amy gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll pass it to you later.” “I’m so sorry.” “You have nothing to worry about. I won’t be staying at her house anymore, so you don’t have to worry about her giving you more trouble. I’ll be staying at Chris’s house.” “Your house,” Christopher clarified. “I’ll get the key.” Amy stretched her hand across Chloe’s waist and gave her another squeeze while Christopher hurried into the house. “Josh kept telling me that you’ll help him sing again. All these years, he kept saying that if you and Chris were to start talking again, things would get better. And I have to admit, I thought it was pure fantasy.” “It has nothing to do with me,” she said. “His voice never left him. He just lost his heart to sing.” “Is everything all right with you and your parents? I can’t believe your mom insisted that you pay a whole month of rent.” “That’s her. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” “You’ve always been independent.” She had to be. Her father was always traveling. When he was home, he would be busy polishing his car and avoiding her mom. Her mother was always busy as well; she was usually busy with being bitter and unhappy about her father. Whatever problem she had, she’d better solve it herself, because depending on her mother’s mood, she would either get a lashing out or a lecture on how useless she was. Since she was never particularly interested in either result, she often chose to do whatever she could on her own and stay out of her parents’ way. “Christopher had already raided my kitchen before your Italy trip, but if you need more food, feel free to take whatever you want.” Chloe nodded. “How was the trip?” “It was great. I enjoyed myself. I think Chris did, too. I’ll take you there some time.” “That’s sweet.” Christopher came down the stairs and threw the key to her. “I’ll drive you … there. Mom, can—” “Take my car. I don’t need it.” “Thanks,” Chloe said. “I’ll rent one tomorrow.” “Rent one? You’re going to stay for a while, then.” Chloe grinned and looked at Christopher. “Yeah, I think I will.”

“The room is right at the end,” the hotel manager said as they stepped out of the lift. Chloe looked down the carpeted corridor, and there was Nicole, holding the door to her room open for her. She smiled, nodded at the hotel manager, and made her way toward Nicole. “Miss Brooks?” “Just call me Chloe.” Nicole waved her in. “I was surprised to hear you’re here. How did you know I was staying here?” “Lawrence Morgan told me.” Jason’s grandfather had plenty of connections in the music industry, so she called and asked for a favor. “I have your song.” “Really?” Nicole gestured to the couch and walked over. Chloe wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She’d run a Google search on Nicole as well, just to see how she looked and to guess what kind of person she was. She couldn’t write a song without knowing anything. The Nicole whom she read about was a party girl. But the Nicole standing in front of her, without any makeup, wearing an oversized white T-shirt that almost completely covered her black shorts, looked like any other teenager on the streets. The colors from her voice weren’t of the usual electric colors she saw from party people either. Instead, the colors appeared mellow, similar to her own color. Nicole grabbed the guitar lying on the couch and set it aside on a stand nearby. “Do you want any drinks?” She pointed to the minibar. “Help yourself.”

Chloe shook her head. “Thanks for writing the song.” Nicole settled onto the couch. “I didn’t have a choice.” She set the brown envelope down on the desk in front of Nicole. “I don’t know you well enough to write a song that will suit you.” “I’m sorry. I know you must think I’m a horrible person. I tried asking around, but no one in my circle seemed to know how to get in touch with you. Even Jason refused to help.” She smiled. There had always been a sort of silent agreement between her and Jason. They wouldn’t ask each other for favors in their jobs. “I’m so tired of singing those silly songs. I’m eighteen; I want a song that actually means something to me. I want a song that will make listeners take me seriously.” Chloe pursed her lips and took a seat on the couch. “I’m sure that song won’t mean anything to you because I don’t know you.” Nicole leaned forward and took her hand. “Then will you write me another song? Something that will let people see that I’ve grown up.” She had expected to see a spoiled and entitled Nicole, not someone who truly wanted to work hard at being a better singer. “I’ll consider it if you answer my questions.” Nicole’s eyelids twitched as they narrowed slightly. “All right, what do you want to know?” “How did you know Rebecca would be able to get you that song?” Nicole pursed her lips. “It’s a long story.” “I have time.” Nicole nodded after a moment. “I have a habit of putting on my earphones and blasting music. But sometimes, I don’t have any music playing; I do that simply because I don’t feel like talking.” “She thought you couldn’t hear her.” Nicole got up and walked over to the minibar. “I heard her threatening someone on the phone. She wanted the person to hold off on ending Christopher Hunter’s contract. Then, when I got back to the company, it actually happened.” She grabbed two bottles of water and strode over to hand her one. “But I didn’t think much about it until she tried to blackmail me.” Chloe arched a brow. What dark secrets could an eighteen-year-old have? “I refused to take part in a concert, the one I’m here for. There were a few other bookings that interested me. But for reasons known only to herself, Rebecca wanted me here. She said something about having to stay here to make sure that things go well. I have no idea what she was talking about.” If Chloe had to guess, she’d say it was to make sure Christopher’s career remained on track. “When I refused to listen to her, she threatened to let the whole world know my brother was twice committed to a mental hospital.” She took a gulp of water and sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with being committed.” Chloe cleared her throat and fidgeted in her seat. “Anyway, I seriously doubt that would affect your career.” “But it would affect my brother’s. He has bipolar, and he’ll be okay as long as he takes his meds.” “I’m not judging.” “Then you’re the first,” Nicole said. “If his company finds out that he’d been committed twice, they’ll dismiss him. I’m sure of it. He’s moved twice and just gotten a new job. And his kids; do you know what they went through when the children in their school found out?” Chloe knew exactly how cruel children could be. “I understand.” “But something she said got me thinking. The way she talked about the institute, it seemed as if she’d been there. So I went around asking questions. I didn’t think I’d get anything.” A corner of her lips hooked into a sly grin. “But I did.” Nicole took another mouthful of water, then her eyes slitted again as she observed her. “If I tell you …” Chloe licked her lips and leaned forward. “I see colors through sound. It’s a condition called synesthesia. Whenever I hear a sound, a color accompanies it.” “Really?” “Your color is of a mellow yellow.” Nicole tapped the bottle against the table. “Such tones usually produces dull white, silver, or gray.” “That’s so interesting.”

She gave her a smile, then pursed her lips. “I’ve always seen colors from sounds. I even see colors when it rains. But with Rebecca, sometimes I don’t see anything.” “Do you know when people lie? Maybe because everything she says is a lie.” One of her shoulders twitched. “I can’t tell for sure that a person is lying, but the color will be different from when a person is speaking normally. But there’s a host of reasons that could affect someone’s color. I don’t even see a regular color with Rebecca. When she speaks, either the colors are weak or there would be nothing.” “So you’re curious.” Nicole pursed her lips. “I may know why.” She walked toward the wardrobe and got down on one knee. Chloe heard several beeps, so she assumed Nicole was taking something from the safe. “Here.” She placed several pieces of paper on the coffee table. “This is a medical record for …” She picked up the paper. “Jill Adler.” “Who’s Jill Adler?” Nicole arched a brow. “Rebecca!” “What?” “I went to the hospital my brother was in and showed Rebecca’s photo around. The nurses were really helpful after I started taking photos with them.” “How did you get the medical record?” “A pretty girl can get away with a lot.” Chloe laughed softly as Nicole blinked away. “Do you see colors when I blink?” Nicole asked. “No. I only see colors along with sounds.” “So no sound …” “No colors.” She smiled and turned back to the medical records. She glanced through the messy writings. “She has schizophrenia and has been committed many times. It started when she was six. She had a relapse recently, which was why she took time off work while working as Christopher’s assistant.” “Are you sure Rebecca and Jill Adler are the same person?” “A hundred percent. I showed the doctor her photo. The doctor assured me that she isn’t dangerous as long as she takes her meds.” “Why did she change her name?” “I guess the record label wouldn’t have hired her if they knew she has schizophrenia. Even her own parents were afraid of her.” “What do you mean?” Nicole slumped back against the couch and folded her legs. “Give me your email address. I’ll send you everything the P.I. sent me.” “P.I.” “I may not have your synesth …” “Synesthesia.” “Right, but my gut told me that Rebecca is crazy and vindictive. I knew that once I stood up to her, I’d have to watch my back for the rest of my life. I wanted to make sure that I had more than enough dirt on her that would keep me safe.” “And you’re just going to give them all to me.” Nicole shrugged. “As an apology for forcing you to write that song for me. She always went on and on about Christopher, and I knew you wrote his first song.” “That was why you blackmailed her.” Nicole’s lips parted. “I call it payback.” She didn’t care much about Rebecca, but she did want to help Ella. “Am I allowed to use the information to help someone?” “If too many people use that information against her, I’m afraid it’ll stop working.” “Then do me a favor. She has several photos of my friend, Ella.” Chloe paused; she wasn’t willing to give her more details. “That’s the person she blackmailed to get my song?” Chloe nodded. “I know if you were to say anything, Rebecca would—” “I’ll do it for you. I’ve already done it once; I can do it again.”

“But what if—” “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.” “Nicole …” “Chloe, I managed to blackmail a serial blackmailer. Give me some credit.” Chloe laughed softly. She gave Nicole her email address, and they exchanged numbers. “If you think anything is wrong and you need help, give me a call right away.” “I will.” She pursed and released her lips. “Has she ever mentioned anything about Christopher?” “Just that he’s protective of her. I think she has a major crush on him.” Protective of her? She knew Christopher was probably just being nice, but that didn’t remove her jealousy. “She’s still crazy at times, even when she’s on her meds. Sometimes, I find her mumbling to herself. And she says the meanest, sometimes craziest, things when she thinks I can’t hear her.” “Nicole, maybe—” “But she won’t hurt me. I said that to remind you to be careful.” “Me?” Nicole pinched her lips together. “I know you’re older, and it probably isn’t my place to give you advice. But you look like a nice person, the sort who won’t ever use such information to your advantage.” She paused for a moment and smiled. “I don’t think you even know what you’re really doing here. After reading the P.I. report, whatever you want to do, please be careful.” “If you have all this on her, why are you still doing the concert tonight?” “Because I gave the organizers my word. Whatever unhappiness I have is with Rebecca, not the organizers.” “Very mature,” Chloe said and looked at the envelope with the song she’d written for Nicole. “You know, I’ve only written love songs so far.” “Well, I haven’t met the love of my life.” Nicole gave her a small smile. “Maybe I’ll call you when I do meet the guy. Will you write me a song then?” “I’ll write you a song then, but I’d love to write you a song now.” Throughout the whole conversation, Nicole had shown how strong, mature, and wise a person she was. “A song about growing up, about being strong.” She could almost hear the tune. “Seriously?” Nicole grinned. “I’ve never written a non-love song before. But if you’re willing to take a risk—” “Have I not proven the length I’d go to get a song from you?” Chloe laughed and nodded. “I know I’m older, but your strength is inspiring.” “Well, Chloe, if you make the decision that from today onward, you’ll respect your incredibly talented self enough to stand up for yourself and love yourself, you’ll get stronger.” Nicole paused and smiled. “My mom told me that once. I’ve never been able to get it out of my mind.” “Your mother is a wise woman.” That line was definitely going into the lyrics.

Chapter Fifteen

Chloe sat in the lobby reading the P.I. report that Nicole had sent her. She looked up when she noticed a shadow growing on her iPad. “Jason.” She flipped her iPad over and placed it down on her lap. “What are you doing here?” “I’m waiting for Christopher. They’re discussing details on his next single.” “That I’m promoting.” She frowned. “You’re fast.” Jason took a seat next to her. “A friend called in a favor.” “Rebecca?” She regretted it the moment she said her name. She was being paranoid, not everything had to do with Rebecca. But when Jason’s eyes slitted, she realized she was actually right. “What does she have on you?” “What does she have on you?” “Nothing. She blackmailed someone into asking me a favor.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “What does she have on you? I knew something was wrong with her.” “Chloe, stay away from her.” “She’s only a personal assistant.” “Chloe.” Jason took her hand. “I know what happened between us, and I’m sorry. But you have to trust me on this. Leave Rebecca alone. I know she might be working with Christopher again, but you stay away from her.” “Why? I have nothing to hide. I’m very proper, remember?” Jason winced. “Yes, but—” “What does she have on you?” she repeated her question, slower this time. Jason sighed. “I owed some people some money.” “So?” “I might’ve taken some money from the company to pay them.” She gasped. “Jason!” “I know, I know. You won’t tell my grandfather, will you?” “You have to put the money back. If the accountants find out, you may go to jail.” “I know.” She rolled her eyes. “Which is why you’re doing her bidding.” She shook her head and looked away. “How did she find out?” “She must have gone through my files while I was out of the office.” “How much do you owe?” “Over a million.” Her eyes widened. She thought she could help, but she didn’t have a million dollars. “Yeah, I know.” He stretched his legs forward and slumped back against the wall. “You need to talk to your grandfather. I know he has the money; he can put the money back for you.” “After killing me, that is.”

“If he does, you deserve it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “They said it was a sure-win. I didn’t want to miss out on the business opportunity, so I borrowed money from some people whom I should never have messed with.” “Jason, I’ve never said this out loud because I didn’t want to behave as if I’m your mother, but your so-called friends are horrible people. They only hang around you for your money.” She sighed softly. “I can talk to your grandfather for you.” “Really?” He perked up and took her hand. “I’ll be forever indebted to you.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s why my grandfather adores you and wanted me so badly to marry you.” She laughed, that explained a lot. “Is everything all right?” Chloe looked over and smiled at Christopher. When she noticed he was staring at Jason’s hand over hers, she pulled her hand from under Jason’s and stood. “We were just talking. Hi, Rebecca, I didn’t know you’d be here.” “I was Christopher’s assistant. Now that he’s back, I’ll be his assistant again.” “What about Nicole?” Her eyelids twitched. “Nicole will be fine. I heard you’re writing a song for her.” She clenched her jaws and forced a smile. “It’s in progress.” She walked over to Christopher, who took her hand and pulled her behind him. “Thanks for being here, Rebecca. We should go.” He nodded in Jason’s direction, and they headed off. Chloe got into the car and pulled the seatbelt over herself. “Is everything all right?” Christopher asked as they pulled out of the lot. “I don’t know.” “Has it got something to do with Jason?” Chloe studied his expression for a minute. “It has nothing to do with Jason. He wasn’t asking me to get back with him. He was concerned.” “About?” “Rebecca.” Christopher frowned. “You still don’t see any colors from her?” “Nope, and it isn’t just that,” she said. “Remember how I was working on a song as a favor to my friend?” “Because a Rebecca blackmailed her?” She nodded. “Because this Rebecca blackmailed her.” Christopher laughed and shook his head. “You don’t believe me.” “It isn’t that.” He cast a glance at her. “I’ve worked with … Rebecca for years. She’s been a great assistant.” “I’ve spoken to Nicole Lane, and she confirmed that the Rebecca who blackmailed Ella is this very Rebecca.” His head swayed left and right. “And when I started talking about Rebecca, Jason got all worried. He kept telling me to stay away from her.” “And because Jason says so, it … must be true.” Chloe sighed. “I only brought him up because my words aren’t enough for you.” “That’s not true.” “No? So you believe Rebecca is the blackmailer.” “I believe that’s what you’ve been told, but I’m sure there’s more to it.” Chloe nodded and continued to tell him about Nicole Lane and the conversation she had with her. “Do you hear how crazy it sounds? Changing her name, blackmailing people …” “You’re very protective of her.” She licked her lips and nodded. “Never mind.” “No, Chloe—” “No, it’s fine. You’re right, it’s crazy. I have an idea for a song. If you don’t mind …” She reached into her bag and pulled out the noise-canceling earphones. “I’d like to work on it before the inspiration slips away.” She put on her earphones and turned to her phone, but she wasn’t working on any song. She downloaded and continued reading the P.I. report. When they got back to the house, she got out and headed for the door without waiting for Christopher. “Chloe.” Christopher took her hand and gave her a small smile. “I’m sorry. It isn’t that I don’t believe you.” “It’s all right. I’m just tired, and I want to rest.” “Of course.”

She smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned in, and she tilted her face to the side. “Goodnight.” She went in and closed the door, then headed straight to her laptop. She had finished reading through the report, but certain parts caught her attention. She grabbed her laptop and went into her study. Knowing Rebecca’s real name made a world of a difference in her Internet search. Newspaper archives, very interesting newspaper archives lined the first page of her Google search results. She didn’t know how long she’d been at it until she heard Christopher’s voice. “Hungry?” She gasped and spun around. “Chris, what are you doing here?” “The lights were still on, so I thought you might want supper.” She turned back to her laptop and closed it before standing. “I’m not hungry.” She had already read all she needed, but she was tired of backing down simply because people didn’t trust her. She was going to prove to Christopher that she didn’t just allow a silly idea to get into her head. She wasn’t sure why she was that determined. Maybe it was the conversation she had with Nicole. Maybe Nicole’s strength and maturity left such an impression on her that Chloe had finally made the decision to respect herself enough to stand up for herself. “Chloe.” He closed the distance between them and took her hand. “I’m sorry. It isn’t that I don’t trust … you—” “It’s just that you’ve worked with her, and she’s helped you when you were addicted to alcohol. So you’re protective of her.” She sighed softly when she realized she’d interrupted his sentence. She had never done that with him. “I’m sorry,” she said and sat on the desk. Christopher pulled the chair over and sat in front of her. “It’s okay.” He took a deep breath and continued, “The point I’m trying to make … is that I choose you. I choose to trust your superpower more … than whatever my mind or experience is telling me.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then took out his phone. “So, I sent a text to the executive in charge of my new single.” He placed his phone into her hand. She frowned, but read whatever was on the screen. “You told him that you don’t want a personal assistant.” “And I’ll keep my distance from her.” She broke into a smile and shook her head. “Chris.” She laughed. “What if I told you that my paranoia kicked into insane gear and I spent the past few hours reading everything about Rebecca and I found nothing.” “I’ve already sent the text, and … I’ve given you my word. Nothing will change.” He took her hand again. “I do care for Rebecca … because she was there for me when I was … addicted. And whatever … protectiveness you think I have of her is because I … knew what her parents put her through. She told me … her parents used to abuse her.” She opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw that Christopher had more to say, she stopped. “But that’s all. Whatever I feel about her, I feel a hundred times—a million times—more for you.” She smiled, feeling silly for being jealous over nothing. “I love you, Chloe. I always have.” He tightened his grip of her hand. “I’ll give up anything for you in a heartbeat.” “Anything?” “Anything.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of something precious to him. “Josh?” “You can have him anytime.” She laughed. “But I don’t want you to do that.” “You don’t want Josh either?” “I don’t want you to give up things for me just because you feel you have to.” “Chloe.” He paused and looked right into her eyes. “You don’t have to be the adult … in our relationship.” “We both have to be adults for our relationship to work.” His brows drew closer. “I’m going to be childish now. I just told you I love you.” She laughed and cupped her hand against his cheek. “And I love you, too.” She bent forward and gave him a kiss. “And Mr. Christopher Hunter, I’m glad to announce that your faith in my superpower isn’t misplaced.” He arched a brow. She sat on his leg and pulled them toward the laptop. “Rebecca’s real name is Jill Adler. This is the report from Nicole’s P.I.” She scrolled through the report and pointed out some things to him. “You were talking about her parents. The P.I. spoke to her neighbors, and several neighbors stated that they often heard explosive quarrels from the house.”

“She didn’t want … to take her medications.” She nodded. “But if she didn’t, she’d get delusions.” “So the abuse … it could be delusions?” She scrolled a few pages down. “The P.I. spoke to her school teachers. Apparently, Rebecca kept telling her teachers that she was abused, but the school nurse didn’t find any wounds. Then she started saying that her parents were poisoning her.” Christopher’s eyes widened. “Then, on her eighteenth birthday, her father accidentally left the car running in the garage. The carbon monoxide killed her parents.” She felt Christopher’s chest rising. “Do you suspect that … she killed her parents?” She twisted to the side and looked at Christopher. “The P.I. never got a definite answer. One of the detectives suspected her, but they couldn’t find any proof. But what’s interesting was that her parents each took her antipsychotic pills that made them drowsy.” “It looks like they committed suicide.” “I ran a search and found an interesting news article. A reporter received an anonymous tip and did her own research. Her article stated that the neighbors all insisted that Jill’s father always parked the car outside the house and never in the garage unless it was winter.” She pulled up the article she was talking about. “That was the same thing that got the detective to suspect Jill in the first place.” She looked over at Christopher, whose brows were etched in a deep frown. “And there’s this statement.” She pointed at another paragraph in the article. “A neighbor saw her laughing and dancing at the back of the house. She thought it was weird because Jill was always brooding. And she was out there for hours, something her neighbors said was strange as well.” She got up and sat on the desk so she could face Christopher. “I know it’s all circumstantial, which was why the police never arrested her. But when you put everything together, it’s kind of suspicious, isn’t it?” Christopher scrolled through the article and went back to the report. “When she talked about her … parents, she always choked … up. And the fear in her eyes … seemed so real.” “Nicole said that maybe I don’t see Rebecca’s color because everything she says is a lie, and I think she may be on to something. When I was in Paris, a doctor studied my condition. She said that the different colors I see may be due to nuances I pick up from people’s tone, which will explain the colors I see from sounds emitted from machines.” Christopher’s head tipped back. “Ahh … that’s why you seem more observant of what you’re looking at.” She gave him a small smile. “I think Rebecca doesn’t mean most of her words. Perhaps they’re fragments of her imagination; perhaps they’re straight-out lies or words from her alter-egos. Maybe that’s why my brain can’t decipher the nuances of her tone; maybe that’s why I don’t see her color.” He remained quiet as his head bobbed up and down, but she could see the realization dawning on him. “But it’s just a theory.” “I need you to stay away from her. If she’s …” He stared at the laptop. “I don’t want you to be anywhere near her.” “So you believe me?” He grinned. “I don’t know what to make of all this, but I know one thing; if anything ever happens to you, I’ll never recover from that.” “There’s nothing between Jason and me. I kind of hinted that I know something about Rebecca, then he got all worried and told me to stay away from her. He was concerned,” she said. “Do you know Rebecca made Jason promote your next song?” “That would explain a lot. During the discussion, someone mentioned that Jason called the record label when he saw the video on Eric’s proposal.” “Rebecca really does have a massive crush on you.” She yawned and stretched her back. “You should get some sleep.” She nodded. “But you made something for me to eat, right?” “It’s just a sandwich, and it’s already in the fridge.” He stood, gave her a quick peck on her forehead, and turned. “Chris?” She took his hand and smiled. “Thanks for choosing to believe me.” Christopher took a step closer toward her and weaved his hand into her hair. “I’ll always choose you, no matter what.”

Chapter Sixteen

Christopher turned to his side and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He pressed the home button and checked the time. It was nearly one in the afternoon. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath while stretching his neck. He had only gotten back around dawn and was woken by Rebecca’s call in the morning. He had explained, as nicely as he could, to Rebecca that he didn’t need an assistant right now. He told her that he wanted to take things slowly, which was true. He didn’t want to re-enter into the music industry only to crash and burn again. He knew the triggers that could threaten his sobriety; he knew alcohol would be all around him. This time, he would take things slowly. He had promised himself that if he needed, he would walk away from singing whenever he needed time for himself. That was why he hadn’t signed the contract for the production of a full album. A full album would include tours and bookings that would take him all over the country, rushing from one place to another. He didn’t want to get swept up in the craziness again. Rebecca seemed to take the news relatively well. She told him that she understood and wished him all the best, which brought about a wave of guilt. It was difficult to reconcile what he’d read about Jill Adler with the Rebecca whom he was talking to. “Chris?” He looked over at the door and sat up on the bed. “Yeah, I’m awake.” His mom opened the door with a small frown. “There’s something you should see.” “What’s wrong?” His mom stepped into the room with her small red laptop. “Josh just sent me a link to a website. I think you need to read this.” He ran his hand through his hair and took the laptop from his mom. “What do you think?” she asked as she sat on the bed. “I think we should tell Chloe about it, shouldn’t we?” He didn’t answer. He couldn’t give his mom an answer until he actually read the article. He groaned when he did. It was another article on Chloe. This time, it wasn’t just about her; it included an exposé on her parents’ relationship. Christopher Hunter’s New Girlfriend — Cheating Runs In Her Blood He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair again. “This is ridiculous. Her father is … a cheating bas—” “Christopher Hunter.” He closed the laptop. “Point is, Chloe is nothing like him. She’s nothing like her parents.” He got off the bed. “I hope her mother doesn’t read this. She won’t be happy about it.” “I seriously doubt Chloe will … rejoice over this.” “Maybe the two of you should take another trip.” “Why?” Christopher pulled a shirt on. “Do you think her mother will fly here?” “She called me ten times when she heard Chloe stayed in her house.”

He sighed heavily. “I’ll have a talk with her.” Christopher washed up and drove over to Chloe’s house. The remote controlled blackout blinds were still covered throughout the house. He’d installed the blinds such that one button on the remote would black out the house completely. He used his key and entered the house as quietly as he could. If Chloe were still sleeping, he’d wait for her instead of waking her up. It wouldn’t hurt if the news were delivered a few hours late. He used the light from his phone to find the button that would raise the blinds on the first floor, then headed upstairs. Again, he relied on his phone to navigate himself. As expected, she was sleeping soundly in her room. Standing in the doorway, he sighed softly. He hated all that Chloe’s parents had put her through and continued to put her through. On top of having to solve all of her own problems, she was always put in the middle of all of her parents’ issues. Despite being in different countries, her parents still managed to hound her with their issues. Maybe the exposé was a good thing. Maybe having their dirty laundry splashed out on magazines would finally force her mother to acknowledge that their marital problems were theirs and nothing to do with Chloe. Before he could laugh at his own thoughts, he heard a loud thud that sounded as if something knocked against the window in Chloe’s bedroom, the one he was staring at. Chloe’s immediate gasp turned his attention to her. She sat upright, and her head snapped toward him. “Chris?” She sighed. “I thought—” Another thud on the window interrupted her. “What’s going on?” She grabbed the remote and clicked on a button. The blinds rolled up to reveal cracks from seemingly two impact points. “What the—Chris, no!” He continued staring at the window as he made his way toward it. “Don’t worry. The windows are reinforced and thick.” He’d made sure they were that way so there would be minimal distractions for Chloe within the house. She pushed the covers aside and joined him by his side just as the alarm in the house sounded. She jumped, then covered her ears and shut her eyes. He reached across and held her shoulders. “It’s the alarm.” “What’s it alarming us to?” He pulled her closer against himself and leaned forward, then tipped his head back and groaned. “What?” She took a small step forward and looked down, right as something came flying in her direction. She flinched and took a large step back. “I’m going to kill Frank.” “Frank’s throwing things at the house?” He shook his head. “It’s your mom. I think Frank brought her here.” “The windows will break eventually, I suppose.” He weaved his fingers into her hair and pulled her in for a quick peck. “I’ll deal with her. Stay here.” She nodded. He took a step and hesitated, then turned back to her. “This wasn’t how I wanted to break the news to you.” He went to his Internet browser and searched for the article his mother had shown him. “But you need to read this now.” He placed the phone on her hand and gave her another peck. “I’ll be right back.” He headed out and jogged down the stairs. He would prefer to stay with her while she read, but he had to deal with her mother first. “Mrs. Brooks, stop,” he said as calmly as he could while glaring at Frank, who had quickly gotten into his car and drove away. “Why? This is Chloe’s house, right? This is between Chloe and me.” “Technically, this house and the land we’re standing on are mine. So stop, or I’m calling the police.” Chloe’s mother turned and glared at him. “You’re just a has-been.” She thrust the trophy she was holding toward him. “Stop standing there and talking as if you own the world.” He knew of her poisonous tongue; he heard the things she had said about and to Chloe. She’d never turned that tongue of hers on him, though, not until now. “Leave.” “Why should I? I’m just returning what Chloe wouldn’t stop bugging me about.” “Wouldn’t stop bugging you about? I only asked you once!” Christopher took Chloe’s hand to prevent her from getting too close to her mother. She wasn’t this agitated even when she lost her passport in Italy.

“It’s always about you, and because of you, our names are being dragged through the mud. Have you ever stopped and considered how your father and I feel? I just got off the plane and had to read about such rubbish.” “All about me?” Chloe turned away from her mother, and her chest heaved sharply. “Chloe.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m done,” she said to him, then turned around and faced her mother. “It’s always been about the both of you. He’s a cheating, lying coward while you’re a bitter, bitter woman who’s been indulging in self-denial for the past … I don’t know … two decades?” Chloe’s mother took a deep breath and was about to speak when Chloe raised her hand. “I’m not done.” She stepped closer toward her mother. “And dragged through the mud? Everything the article said about your husband, my father, is completely true. He did cheat on you! And it wasn’t my fault that he cheated on you! It isn’t my fault that you insist on staying in this marriage that hasn’t been a real marriage for as long as I remember!” Her mother’s wide eyes stared back at Chloe, but for once, the poisonous tongue didn’t seem to have a retort ready. Chloe cleared her throat, straightened her shirt, then turned and walked away from her mother. She looked at him with a small triumphant smile, and he grinned back in return. That was until he noticed something flying toward Chloe. He grabbed her hand and gave it a strong tug, pulling her into his arms. He wrapped his other hand over her head and pressed her against his chest. He’d just closed his eyes when he felt the sharp pain across his cheek.

Chloe looked up after a moment. She wasn’t sure what happened. She had finally stood up to her mother and was still savoring her rising sense of pride when she saw the fear in Christopher’s eyes. She gasped when she saw Christopher’s face. “You’re bleeding.” She reached up and brushed her thumb under the wound on his cheek. He pulled her hand down and pushed her behind him as he turned to her mother. A glint caught her eyes, and she looked down on the floor. She picked up the trophy and shook her head. “I used to think he was childish while you’re the enabler. You kept quiet and allowed him to vent his frustration whenever he opened and closed whatever drawer he could find as loudly as he could. Clearly, I’m wrong.” She got to her feet and took a step to the side so that she could look right at her mother. “You’re both equally childish, which is probably why your marriage is in this state.” “How dare you?” “What? You want to throw another trophy at me?” Chloe stood her ground and glared at her mother. “I’m done being the enabler. You stop calling, texting, or emailing me. I don’t want to be in any contact with you or that coward husband of yours until both of you grow up. If you can’t do that, then I’ll be fine with us never seeing each other again.” “You ungrateful—” “Parents are supposed to protect their children. I’m not here for you to vent your bitterness on, and I’m certainly not responsible for either of your happiness or otherwise.” Her mother took a step forward. Despite Christopher holding her hand, she matched her mother’s step. She was done being intimidated by her mother as well. “I’m making the decision today to be free of both of your insanity. I’m not going to apologize for the article. Everything in it is the truth. Would I have wanted it to come out like this? No. But I didn’t write it. If you want to throw a tantrum, do it elsewhere. Chris, call the police.” “You want to call the police on your own mother? Go ahead, let’s see what the people who wrote this article will think.” She shrugged. “I’m well-trained by you, mother. I’m already used to listening about how useless and selfish I am. But I’m okay. I’m okay despite you guys, and I’m certain that my life can only get better without both of you in it. So, do what you want. I’ve survived you long enough to survive another of your tantrums.” “Yes, she’s still here,” Christopher spoke into his phone. “I’d suggest you leave before the police get here. Chris will be nice enough to try and smooth things over, but I assure you that I won’t.” Chloe looked up at the house. “And you’ll be getting the bill for the new windows.” “You think I’ll be afraid of you?” Her mother grabbed another of her trophies from the box she was holding. “Since

I’m going to pay for the windows …” She threw the trophy against one of the windows that was already forming cracks. She exhaled quietly. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be baited. “Enjoy yourself. I just woke up, so I’m going to wash up and head out for food.” When she got back into the house, she closed the blinds and switched on the lights. Christopher was staring at her with concern, but she wanted to jump and scream or maybe have a party. “I’m okay.” “Are you?” She laughed softly. “Actually, I’m way better than okay. Was it too much?” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen you this angry. Don’t misunderstand.” He took her hands. “I love it that … you stood up to your mother.” “But …” “But I’m worried about you.” “I think you should be more concerned that you could be scarred for life.” He grinned. “Guys are supposed to look better with scars.” She arched a brow. “You have to write a thank-you note to my mother, then.” She sighed softly and reached for his wound, but he intercepted her hand. “I’m fine.” “So am I. Is there a first-aid kit around here?” He shook his head. “Let me wash up and get dressed. Then we’ll go over to your mom’s.” She ran up the stairs and went back to her room. While the water cascaded down her hair, she tipped her head back and thought about the showdown she had with her mother. Though her mother was probably still trying to break at least one of her windows, she felt relieved, as if she was finally free. Her mother wouldn’t give up just like this. A barrage of hateful emails and texts were bound to follow, but she was confident she could handle whatever her mom threw in her way. If you make the decision that, from today onward, you’ll respect your incredibly talented self enough to stand up for yourself and love yourself, you’ll get stronger. She laughed softly when she recalled what Nicole had said. She nodded. From that day onward, she would respect herself enough to stand up for herself.

Chapter Seventeen

After fussing over his wounds for a while, he and Chloe sat down for lunch with his mom. He and Chloe had already spoken with the police just as they were leaving the house. Her mother was still outside the house then, claiming that she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She insisted she was simply returning Chloe’s trophy. He watched with disbelief as her mother spoke. He didn’t understand how she could be so arrogant about doing something wrong. Even the police officer stole a sideways glance at him, giving him a momentary are-you-serious look. When the whole issue with the police was over, they got into his mom’s car and drove away. He told his mom what had happened, but skipped over the confrontation between Chloe and her mother. Chloe didn’t elaborate either. That was that, or so he thought. Nearly two hours after the confrontation, while he and Chloe were in his room searching for someone to fix the windows, Chloe looked up and frowned. “I think someone just pulled up to your house.” Chloe always did this when they were young, and she was always right. “Your mom?” She had always been able to tell. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think she’s still driving the same car.” “Right.” Of course, he thought. “I’ll check. You stay here, all right?” She shook her head and stood. “It’s all right, I’ll go with you. She’ll only be more agitated if I’m not there for her to rant at.” “I thought you’re done getting ranted at.” “And I intend to follow through. If I were to hide away in my room, she’ll think I’m only bluffing.” Christopher sighed softly. “I’m glad you’re standing up for yourself, but it’ll take a while for your mom to realize you’re serious.” He took her hand. “And until that happens, things will probably get a lot worse.” “And you think I can’t handle a lot worse?” “I just rather you don’t have to go through this. Maybe we should head out for another holiday.” “No. I’m not running; I shouldn’t have to.” She pulled her hand from his and frowned. “I thought you never liked it when I retreated into my shell. You never complained, but I could tell you didn’t like it.” “Because I’d rather you talk to me. Facing a screaming, insane mother is another matter.” She gave him a small smile and reached up to his face. “I’ll be fine.” “Kids, sorry to interrupt.” They turned to the knock on the door and found his mom standing at the doorway. “I think you guys should come downstairs,” Amy said and pursed her lips. “There’s a reporter downstairs.” Christopher frowned. His mother knew how to handle reporters; she simply had to turn them away, she always had. “Why did you let the reporter in?” “Because she says your mom is having an interview right now with another reporter, and she thinks the two of you should get the chance to put your story out there as well.”

“Exactly,” a woman said from behind Amy, then took a step forward. “I’m sure you’d like to get your story out there instead of having your reputations destroyed.” Clad in a light blue jeans and a black jacket over her white top, the reporter took another step toward him. “No.” Christopher had had enough experiences with reporters to know that they couldn’t be trusted. The reporter blinked, then turned to Chloe after a moment. “Miss Brooks, you—” “If Chris doesn’t think it’s a good idea, then neither do I.” “From what I’ve read, I don’t think you have a good relationship with your mother.” Christopher stepped between Chloe and the reporter. “You should leave.” “I’ll show you out.” His mother hooked her arm across the reporter’s back and half dragged her out of the room. “Miss Brooks, you should think about this.” Christopher returned to Chloe’s side once he was certain that his mother had the situation under control. “Are you all right?” She nodded. “Do you dislike her or reporters in general?” “Reporters in general. They like to take something you say and twist it out of context. No matter how careful you are with your words, it’ll never end well.” “That’s rather skeptical. I’m sure there are plenty of great articles about you.” He grinned. “Yes, but they didn’t occur under such circumstances.” She shrugged. “I’ve never liked being in the limelight anyway.” “I’m sure this whole thing will blow over soon enough,” he said. “If you refuse to engage, your mom won’t be able to keep making noise. The magazines are interested in us, not her.” “The magazines are interested in you.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “I’m sorry about the articles.” Despite having worked with many superstars, Chloe had managed to stay out of the limelight until now. It was because of him that her name was being dragged through the mud, that her mother was here to create such a fuss. “I’m sorry.” “Chris.” She looked him right in his eyes. “None of this is your fault. And I don’t care about what the press says, I never bother to read them anyway. I actually make it a point to avoid reading comments about my songs. You should, too.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t know she’d barge up here.” Amy came into the room and gave Chloe a hug. “Don’t worry about it.” “Are you all right?” His mother stepped back, and her eyes squinted while staring at Chloe’s face. That was probably the hundredth time his mother had asked Chloe that question. Chloe grinned as her head tipped slightly to the side. “I know I’ve asked you that like a thousand times.” Chloe laughed softly. “I’m fine, Amy.” Christopher watched as Chloe answered his mom. He’d heard her repeated assurance, but he was still worried. He had a feeling that everything was only going to get worse before it started getting better. He reached over and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Are you sure?” She laughed again. “You’ll know when I’m not. I’ll be in front of my laptop, looking for an air ticket out of here.” He grinned. “I’ll keep an eye out when you’re in front of your laptop.”

Despite the cracked window, the paparazzi camping outside, and the chance of her mother appearing for another round of confrontation, Chloe chose to work in the house. Christopher and Amy didn’t think it was a good choice, which was probably why both of them insisted on coming up with her. The last she saw of them, Amy was packing things in the kitchen while Christopher lounged downstairs. She placed her pencil down, took another look at the sheet music in front of her, and grinned. She loved the song, and she was sure it would be fabulous for Nicole. She wanted to call Nicole right away, but she wanted Christopher to hear it first. She removed her noise-canceling headphones and ran down the stairs. “Rebecca?” She frowned; not just because Rebecca was sitting on the couch, but because her hand was cradling Christopher’s face. “Chloe.” Christopher stood and walked over to her. That was the first time he’d said her name that way; that one word was surrounded by a glowing red halo. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s she doing here?” she asked softly.

Rebecca stood and said, “You have to talk to the press—both of you. I don’t know how your mom got an interview with the largest gossip magazine in the world, but you need to step up and do something or Chris’s reputation will be affected as well.” “No.” Christopher took her hand. “I’ve already told her no.” “I know someone who owes me a favor,” Rebecca continued. Chloe couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You mean someone whom you’re blackmailing. And perhaps if you hadn’t leaked all this information to the press, none of this would’ve happened in the first place.” “All this had nothing to do with me. I’d never do anything to hurt Christopher.” “Not even to break us apart?” Rebecca’s face didn’t reveal a hint of expression. The only reaction was the longer than necessary blink of her eyes. “You helped him sing again, so for now, you’re okay.” “For now?” Christopher stepped toward Rebecca. “Rebecca, if you do anything … to hurt Chloe, I’ll never forgive you.” “She isn’t good for you! Look at the trouble she’s caused!” Chloe blinked as red powder exploded across the room, heading right toward her. She took a step to the side, avoiding the direct impact of something she knew was only happening in her head. At that moment, when she looked at Rebecca, Chloe felt as if she really saw who Rebecca was—someone who cared about Christopher. Chloe was annoyed at her own insensitivity. She should have more compassion for Rebecca. After all, she knew what it was like to feel crazy. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. “What can I do?” “Chloe, I don’t want you to do any interview. I know how much … you treasure your privacy.” Christopher hooked his arm across her waist and turned her around. “If she doesn’t say anything, your fans are just going to think you’re making another bad choice.” “I don’t care what others think.” He stopped and turned to Rebecca. “If I have to lose my fans or my singing career to protect Chloe from the craziness of the industry, I will.” “You’re choosing her?” Rebecca said. The red powders fell to the ground like raindrops, morphing into deep purple as it hit the ground heavily. She pursed her lips, but Rebecca’s sadness didn’t linger. “Don’t force me to hurt her the way I hurt my parents.” Again, there wasn’t any color from Rebecca’s words. “Leave,” Christopher said as he stretched his arm protectively in front of her. “Have you taken your medicine?” Chloe asked as calmly as she could. “I don’t need any medication! I’m not crazy!” “Of course not, but you’re—” Christopher stopped her from going down the steps. “Rebecca, listen to me.” The anger melted from Rebecca’s face when she turned to Christopher. “We’ll talk about this another time, all right?” Christopher spoke as if he were talking to an enraged animal that might pounce on them at any time. Rebecca must have noticed. She shook her head and grabbed her bag. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I should go.” She hurried out of the house and slammed the door behind her. “I thought you didn’t like her.” Chloe continued staring at the closed door. “I saw the colors.” She looked at him. “It only showed up when she was talking about you. Then it disappeared again when she talked about her parents.” “I’ve never seen her like this,” Amy said. Chloe hadn’t noticed Amy standing near the couch. “Neither have I, but I think she’s proven that the detective was right to be suspicious.” “Detective?” Amy went over to the door and locked it. “Is there something I should know?” “Bring your mom up to date,” Chloe said and went back to her room. She slid the window aside and stepped onto the balcony. She leaned against the rail and watched the colors as the water rushed by, right in front of her house. “Is there something I should apologize for?” She grinned and shook her head. “It could’ve been me.” “What?” “I was committed, too, remember? I could’ve been like her.” When she was young, she didn’t know others couldn’t see what she saw. When she first spoke of the colors and

images, her parents simply ignored her, then they got annoyed and warned her to stop lying. She wasn’t lying, but she stopped talking about the colors and words. She got punished whenever she spoke of them, so she stopped. Her reaction, however, wasn’t as cooperative. “You were committed because your parents didn’t … believe in your superpower.” Christopher stood beside her and pushed her hair behind her shoulder. She pursed her lips as she recalled the lectures she often received for daydreaming, for not having the manners to look at her parents while they were speaking. At first, they thought she had ADHD, so she was sent to a doctor. When she explained the reason for her distraction, she received a referral letter to a psychiatrist. Before she knew what was happening, she was committed and treated as if she were a mental patient. “You’re not crazy.” No, she wasn’t. “But if Mr. Upton didn’t show up, I may have been locked inside my whole life.” Despite dozens of brain scans and endless consultations with various doctors, she was still stuck in the hospital, labeled and treated as a mental patient. Thankfully, after two weeks in the hospital, a world renowned scientist declared her perfectly sane and she was finally vindicated. “I see images and colors. She hears voices. The images, colors, and voices all happen only in our heads. You can’t see what I see, and we can’t hear what she hears.” She sighed and shook her head, then described what she saw when Rebecca spoke about him. She paused and gave him a wry smile. “I had to step aside because it felt so real to me. I know it wasn’t real, that the explosion wasn’t going to hurt me, but that knowledge wasn’t enough. I still took a step to the side to avoid the imaginary explosion.” “Your superpower isn’t dangerous. You don’t hurt people.” She smiled and sighed softly. “Maybe she can’t control it, just like I can’t.” “She can take her medicine.” “I was given medication, and I refused to take it as well.” “Because you don’t need it, she does.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer. “And I love how you’ve embraced your superpower. You used to hate it and never talk about it, but now you trust your power.” She nudged him in his ribs. “Stop it.” “All right, but you’ve changed—for the better, of course.” “You have, too.” She cupped her hand against his cheek and ran her thumb under his wound. “You’re tougher.” She ran her hand down his arm, feeling the curve of his muscle. “Stronger.” “Are you trying to seduce me?” He leaned in closer. She grinned and shook her head. He gave her a peck on her lips and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” She closed her eyes and smiled as she felt his warm breath against her lips. “I thought we were done apologizing.” “I just want you to know that I’ll never leave you alone to deal with anything on your own again.” She tipped her head back and tugged at his T-shirt. He closed the gap and kissed her again. She breathed in deeply and moved her hands up his shoulders. She hooked her arms over his neck as he wrapped his hands across her waist and pulled her tight against him. She broke into a smile, and he deepened the kiss. She wanted so badly to continue the kiss, but she pushed against his chest and stepped back. “Your mom’s downstairs, and I still have a song to complete.” “Right,” he said as his chest rose and deflated sharply. “Right, of course.” She tiptoed and gave him another peck. “I love you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Chloe thought the excitement for the day would have ended after all that had happened. She polished up the song she’d written for Nicole and grabbed her cell phone. She was about to call Nicole when she thought about Rebecca again. She leaned back against the chair and thought about what she’d told Christopher. She was lucky she was born in a time when her condition was considered a quirk in her brain instead of a curse or a madness in the mind. She grabbed her laptop and ran a search on schizophrenia. Hallucination, paranoia, and confusion. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath as she imagined what was going on in Rebecca’s mind. The voices she would have to battle each day. Just imagining having to go through that every day was causing her chest to tighten. She exhaled heavily and stood, walking around while focusing on her breathing. “Chlo.” She stopped and turned around to see Christopher standing behind her. “What is it?” “Your mother is asking for you to go back to the house.” “Is she downstairs?” Christopher shook his head. “She called my mom. I think she tried calling you.” “I switched off my phone.” She knew her mother would be calling or texting. “Just ignore her.” Christopher’s head bobbed up and down slowly. “Do you think I should go?” “My mom said she sounded … frantic.” Chloe waved it off. “She always does that. Remember that time when she called me all frantic and claimed that the house was robbed because I left the house key on the door?” She had been so worried and guilty while rushing home from school, only to find out that nothing had happened. The house wasn’t robbed. Her mother was simply punishing her for leaving the key on the gate. His lips hooked into a wry smile. “You’re right. What … are you reading?” He leaned toward the laptop. “It’s nothing.” “You’re reading … up on schizophrenia? Why are you suddenly so concerned … about her?” “Why are you suddenly so against her?” “She … crossed the line when she threatened you.” She cupped her hand over his and smiled. “Do you remember what happened on sports day?” “The same thing at … the airport.” “I didn’t have my earplugs in, and I got overwhelmed by the noise.” “And you fainted.” She closed her eyes. “The colors swamped me. They were so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe. I knew the colors couldn’t hurt me, that nothing was actually enveloping me. But I couldn’t take it and I fainted.” She sighed softly. “Imagine she has to deal with a condition that’s a hundred times worse than mine; imagine the battles she has to fight every day.”

“She’s basically admitted to killing her parents, Chloe.” “I’m sure—” She stopped and looked at Christopher’s ringing phone. He sighed and picked up the call. “Yeah, I’m still with her. What? Are you sure? All right, I’ll go over and see what’s going on.” “My mother called again?” “No, my mom decided to drive by your house to see if everything’s all right. She saw Rebecca’s car outside the house.” “Rebecca? I’ll go with you.” Christopher opened his mouth, seemingly ready to retort, but he nodded in the end. “Let’s go then.” They got into the car and drove to her house. Though it was dark and the streets weren’t well-lit, it was easy to spot Rebecca’s car. Theirs was a quiet and boring neighborhood. So even though she’d only been back for a short period of time, she was already used to seeing the same cars parked in the same place. The spot where Rebecca parked her car was usually empty, so though Chloe could barely make out the color of the car, she was certain that it belonged to her. Christopher stopped the car behind Rebecca’s and stepped out. “I don’t have the key,” she said as they got nearer to the door. The curtains were drawn, but Chloe could still see the lights through the curtains. Christopher turned the knob and the door opened. She was about to shout for her mother when Christopher placed his hand on her back and shook his head. He pressed his index finger to his lips and pushed her behind him. “Please, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened.” Chloe pointed to the kitchen where the colors were oozing out from. “You’re a horrible person. You hurt Chris. I saw the cut on his face; he told me you threw a trophy at him.” “No, no, wait. That was an accident. I never meant to hurt him.” “But you did!” Chloe recoiled from the bright red explosion that came blasting out of the kitchen. She shut her eyes, reminding herself that whatever image the colors formed wouldn’t hurt her. “Chloe.” She gasped when she felt a gentle touch on her neck. “Shh …” Christopher tugged her face closer. “Call the police. I’ll go in.” She glared at him. There was no way she would let him go into the kitchen alone. He sighed softly. “Stay behind me.” She nodded. Though her feet weren’t making any noise, she still tried to lighten her footsteps. “Rebecca,” Christopher said when he stepped into the kitchen. “Chloe!” her mother shouted. Chloe pursed her lips when she saw her mother seated on one of the chairs by the dining table. The chair had been shifted closer to the stove. She had never seen such wild fear in her mother’s eyes. Streaks of maroon blood stained her mother’s right cheek, right where Christopher’s injury was. Shifting her focus from her mother, Chloe turned to Rebecca. “Hi, Rebecca.” Rebecca didn’t bother to acknowledge her. Pointing a small paring knife at her mother, she said, “She hurt you.” “I’m fine. The wound will heal.” “But she shouldn’t have hurt you.” She moved toward the stove and placed her hand on one of the knobs. “Chloe will be next. She isn’t good for you. You should leave now. I don’t want you to get affected by the gas.” Chloe felt blood draining from her as a tingling sensation spread across her skin. This isn’t Rebecca. “Rebecca,” she said with a smile. “This isn’t you; you don’t have to do this.” Rebecca shook her head as her hand with the knife reached up and smacked herself against her temple. “I have to do this. They know best; they know what to do. I just need to listen to them.” “No, they don’t know best. You trust Christopher, right? Why don’t you listen to him?” Rebecca looked over at Christopher, and for a moment Chloe could see the softness in her face. That moment, however, faded almost as quickly as it came over her. “No! He’s being controlled by you!” She thrust her knife toward her.

Christopher immediately stepped in front of her. “No, Rebecca, listen.” “No! I’m not listening to anyone but them.” “I know you care about Christopher. I know you trust him.” “You know nothing!” “I’ve been committed as well,” she said, and Rebecca finally turned to look at her. “I see colors from sounds, and my parents thought I was crazy. They admitted me into the hospital and sent me for tests after tests to prove that something was wrong with me.” Chloe sighed silently when she noticed Rebecca loosening her grip on the knife. “They gave me bottles of medicine that made my head spin whenever I took them.” Rebecca nodded. “I hate the medicine.” “There was a young girl who stayed in the same ward as I did, and she taught me how to hide the pill in the back of my mouth so that the nurses wouldn’t know and I could spit it out later.” That anecdote brought about a chuckle from Rebecca. “See? Now I see your color. I see your color when you talk about Chris. Other than that, I don’t see anything from your words because they aren’t you. You don’t have to listen to them or do what they’re telling you to.” Rebecca smacked her hand against her head again, this time against her forehead. “They won’t stop until I do what they say. They won’t stop.” “I know. But you’re strong, you can stand up to them.” Rebecca’s head started moving left and right in short, staccato jerks. “Rebecca.” Christopher took a step forward. “Just pay attention to my voice. You once said that my voice gives you clarity, right? You said it calms the noise in your mind. So listen to me.” Dropping her hand by her side, Rebecca moved toward Christopher. Chloe sucked in a breath and forced herself to stay rooted. She knew Rebecca cared about Christopher, but she didn’t want Rebecca so close to him, not with a knife in her hand. Christopher stretched out one of his hands. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll find a way to stop the voices in your head. All right?” “They can’t be stopped. They’ve been with me since I was young.” “Of course they can. They weren’t talking to you when you were working with me.” From the corner of her eye, Chloe saw her mother getting to her feet. In one quick move, her mother grabbed the pan on the stove and smashed it on the back of Rebecca’s head. Rebecca felt forward, but Christopher caught her right before she hit the ground. Her mother raised the pan again, but Rebecca was out cold. “Stop!” Chloe moved next to Christopher. “She’s out.” “You sure took your time,” her mother said as she placed the pan back onto the stove. Chloe rolled her eyes and ran her hand down Christopher’s back. “I’ll call the cops.”

Chapter Nineteen

“How’s she doing?” Chloe asked as they entered the psychiatrist’s office. “She’s doing a lot better. I’ve reduced her medication to nearly a third was what she used to take. The equine therapy you helped set up is working very well for her.” Chloe smiled and nodded. “That’s good.” “I still can’t believe you got someone to give you permission to use their ranch.” Chloe looked over and grinned at Christopher. “I guess being a superstar helps when asking for a favor.” “Well, it’s working great for her. Just make sure she keeps up with the rest of the medication and she should be able to live normally.” “Thank you, Doctor.” Chloe shook the doctor’s hand and left the office with Christopher. Christopher lifted her hand to his lips. “You’re so amazing, you know.” She smiled. “You could’ve left Rebecca here; you didn’t have to do anything to help her.” “You made the whole equine therapy possible.” “You were the one who researched the whole thing and … found the ranch. All I did was ask, took a few … photos, and signed a few autographs.” She shrugged. She was just glad Rebecca was doing better. The doctor in the hospital finally allowed Rebecca to go home after eight months in the hospital. Just two months into the therapy, even Chloe and Christopher could see Rebecca was getting better. The mention of the voices dropped significantly. She didn’t talk about the imaginary people as much, and she was actually able to admit she was sick. Two weeks ago, right before she was discharged from the hospital, Rebecca actually asked Chloe how she was doing. “I’m sure that with the right help, she can get her condition under control,” she said. “Oh, and my mother sent me an email.” “Another one?” “It’s different this time.” She handed him the phone. Less than a week after what happened with Rebecca, her mother sent her a long, scathing email. Chloe had glossed through the first paragraph, which was enough to let her know it was another of her mother’s vents. She replied stating that she’d deleted it without reading and that she would apply for a protection order if her mother persisted in harassing her. Her mother continued sending her emails and text messages, of course. After a third warning, she applied for a protection order. Her mother seemed to finally get the message after that, and all emails and text messages ceased. The email she received yesterday was drastically different. The email contained a short paragraph with nothing derogatory about her. “She’s divorcing your father?” Chloe cast a glance at Christopher and shrugged. “So she says.”

“And she’s … seeing a therapist?” Chloe pursed her lips. “I don’t know if she’s serious or if this is just another way to wriggle back into my life so that she can go crazy on me again.” “I guess time will tell.” She nodded. “So.” Christopher hooked his arm around her waist. “Are you all packed?” She broke into a wide grin. “Almost.” The songs she wrote for Christopher and Nicole had skyrocketed to the top of various charts and had remained there for weeks. So after a few months she wrote seven more songs for Christopher, with him filling in the lyrics for two of them. Two more months of production later, Christopher’s album was ready. The sales had been phenomenal, and he was going on a tour for his concerts, kicking off the first show that night. “Are you sure you want me to go with you?” Chloe asked. Her part was done, and it seemed pointless for her to tag along. “I’m not going if you’re not.” She laughed softly. “I’m almost done packing anyway.” “Good. I’ll send you home so you can pack whatever you need. Josh will pick you up tonight, and I’ll see you at the concert.” “Okay.”

Chloe checked the time on her phone and sighed. She shouldn’t have waited for Josh to pick her up; she should’ve made her way to the concert on her own. “Stop checking the time.” Josh placed her hand on her arm and pushed her forward. She shrugged off his hand. “We’re so late, and now we can’t even get in.” She looked over her shoulder at the laser lights coming out through the top of the stadium. The low thumping of the music coming from within didn’t help ease her anger either. “The traffic was horrible.” She stopped walking and stared at Josh. “You could’ve picked me up on time.” It was Christopher’s first major concert since his disastrous performance a while back, and she wanted to be there when he stepped out on stage. It was too late now. The concert had started an hour ago. Worse still, the security guarding the back door refused to let them in. “Okay, breathe. Let’s find a place to seat and wait. I’ll—” “Stop pushing me.” She took a step away from him. “Why don’t we just wait by the back door?” “Look.” He pointed to what appeared to be a stage in the middle of a grass field. “Seems like someone had an event there, and there’s even a chair.” He nudged her forward again, but she refused to budge. “I don’t want to sit there.” She closed her eyes and sighed softly. “I want to be inside, standing in the backstage and cheering your brother on.” “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but just trust me. I’ll settle everything and get you inside.” He pointed to the seat again. “Just take a seat, please.” She groaned and tipped her head back. “Fine, but don’t call Chris. I don’t want to distract him. I’ve already texted him to let him know we’ll be late.” She took a step toward the chair. “Maybe I should call Jason.” “Jason? You’re calling your ex-boyfriend at a time like this.” “He has contacts. I’m sure he can get us in there.” Josh rolled his eyes and pointed to the chair again. “Sit, and don’t call your ex-boyfriend.” Chloe trudged over and sat on the white wooden chair. She stared at the small stage in front of her, then glanced around at the empty grass field. It was weird that whoever organized the event had left the stage behind. There were even spotlights and speakers by the sides of the stage. She looked down at the chair. Why did they leave one chair behind? She pursed her lips and was about to go after Josh when a wave of dull colors drifted out from the stadium behind. She looked over and noticed that all the lights in the stadium appeared to have gone out. Then, the lights in the area around where she was seated went out as well. For a second, everything around her was pitch black. Before she could react, she heard Christopher’s voice. “Wise men say only fools rush in.” She smiled and glanced around. The voice was too close for it to be coming from the stadium.

“But I can’t help falling in love with you.” The lights on the stage came on, and there Christopher was, standing right in the middle of the stage, holding a microphone. Waves of colors burst from the stadium as cheers erupted, but a series of hushed ‘shh’ followed right after and silence returned. She didn’t quite understand what was going on. She was certain his concert was taking place in the stadium behind her. What was he doing here? The questions weren’t important enough to distract her from his voice. She leaned forward and enjoyed the rest of the song, the performance he’d prepared solely for her. “Hi,” he said and hopped off the stage when the song ended. “I’m sorry you got worried just now.” Strips of Christmas lights lit up by her sides, warming up the area they were standing at with a low yellow glow. Someone must have been busy while he was singing. “What’s going on?” she asked as he got nearer. “I thought you’re having a concert in the stadium.” “They’re watching from within the stadium.” He pointed to a remote controlled drone flying nearby. She laughed softly. She hadn’t even noticed that. “Did you enjoy the performance?” She nodded. “But I don’t understand.” He grinned and took her hand. “This is a gesture of my promise.” “Your promise?” He pursed and released his lips. “My promise that no matter where we go from here, you’ll always be my number one priority. Your whole life you’ve been taught to not be a bother, but you never have to do that with me.” She turned her head to the side and brushed away the drop of tear hanging on the corner of her eye. He held her gently by her chin and turned her face back to him. “I want you to know that you’re worth every bother. For you, I don’t mind letting ten thousand people wait. As long as you need me, I’ll drop everything I’m doing.” She didn’t have to look at the colors emitting from his words to know he was telling the truth. In her heart, she knew that was always the case. “You’re more important to me than anything in the world.” She broke into a small smile. “Several times during the competition, the judges asked if I was singing to a particular someone. I never answered them before, but now I want to let everyone know. No matter how many people I’m singing to, I only have you in my mind.” He reached over and brushed the tears from her face. Don’t cry, he mouthed and smiled. “So after all this preparation, I have one—no, two things I’d like you to promise me. Then I have a present and a question for you. I know it’s a lot of requests.” “You’ve done a lot of preparation.” “True,” he said and laughed. “So it’s a yes?” She nodded. “First, I want you to promise that you’ll call me if you ever run into trouble, like how you couldn’t get in through the back door. No matter how small the issue is, no matter what I’m doing, you’ll call me—not anyone else. Not Josh, and definitely not Jason.” She laughed even as another drop of tear escaped. She turned her face away again. “Second.” He weaved his hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head. “Never turn away from me when you cry.” She buried her face in her hands while the rest of her tears fell. He pulled her into his arms. “I want you to turn to me for everything. Promise?” She nodded in his chest and wiped away her tears before looking up at him. He nodded at her with an arch brow, and her head bobbed twice. “I promise,” she said. She pressed her palms against her face to get rid of the remaining moisture. He took one of her hands as he pulled out a squarish red box. “Now, your present.” Opening the box, there were two silver rings within. “I bought this for us eight years ago. I was going to give it to you after the competition, provided you didn’t slap me after I kissed you.” She pressed her fingers to her lips as she laughed. “Mine has your name on it while yours has mine.” He paused and took out one of them to show it to her. The drone that was hovering above them moved closer. “I know it’s childish, but I want you to have it.” “It looks beautiful.”

“So you’ll wear it?” he asked as he lifted her hand. “Of course.” He slipped the ring on, but continued holding on to her fingers. “One last thing before we go back inside.” He got down on one knee and pulled out another box, black this time. “Chloe.” He opened the box that held a diamond ring and asked, “Will you marry me?” She cupped her hand over her lips. She held her hand there for a moment before dropping it to her chest. Tears fell from her eyes again, and she was grinning too broadly to speak. All she could do was allow her head to bob up and down. He slipped the diamond ring on her finger, stopping right above the other ring he’d just placed on her. “I love you.” He got up on his feet and kissed her. “I love you, too.” She looked at her rings and laughed. “I probably would’ve said yes if you were to propose to me with those rings eight years ago.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “And Josh wanted me to tell you that I planned everything. He was late because he was following my instructions.” She pulled in her lower lip. “I was so horrible to him all the way here.” “Yeah, he was quite uncertain if he’d make it here alive.” They laughed, right before someone pulled her into a bear hug and lifted her off the ground. “Josh.” Christopher pulled Chloe back from him. “Stop being so rough with her.” “So protective.” Josh grinned and nudged her. “I’m such an awesome brother, am I not? I swear I thought you might just strangle me on the way here.” “That thought did pass my mind a couple of times.” “So, will I be getting double presents on my birthday for the rest of my life?” Christopher shook his head. “Yes,” Chloe said and leaned closer against Christopher. She was only here with Christopher because of Josh. Whatever Josh wanted, if she could get it for him, she would.

Author's Note

Dear Reader,

Thanks for giving my book a chance, and I hope you’ve enjoyed Sing For Me.

I started writing because I couldn’t find the sweet romance novels I loved reading. I hope Chloe and Christopher bring back what it feels like to fall in love with someone who treats you right because everyone deserves that!

I would love to hear what you think about the book, so feel free to drop me an email at [email protected].

If you’re interested in clean romance novels, I have more books that you can explore. They are mainly Christian books, but I promise there isn’t any preaching in any of them. You can check them out here: http://amzn.to/1HXb8jx

Finally, I need to ask for a favor. If you’re so inclined, I’d love a review of Sing For me. Loved it, hated it—I’d love to know. Reviews are tough to come by these days, and you, as the reader, have the power to make or break a book. If you have the time, you can leave the review right here: http://amzn.to/1LlYrq4

In gratitude, Trisha Grace

About Author

Trisha Grace graduated from Bradford University with an Accounting and Finance degree. She has always been an avid reader and has a passion for writing. After being a tutor for over six years, she finally sat down and penned her own novels.

You can connect with Trisha On Twitter: https://twitter.com/TrishaGraceBks On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TrishaGraceNovels Through her website: http://www.TrishaGraceNovels.com

More Books

Look for these titles by Trisha Grace

Now available: Ghost of the Past Book 1 - Moving On Ghost of the Past Book 2 - Closing Books Ghost of the Past Book 3 - Growing Up A Fresh Start Done Being Friends The Stepsister

Coming Soon: Ghost of the Past Book 4

Moving On Ghost of The Past Series, Book 1 © 2012 Trisha Grace

For twenty years, Tyler Hayes had been ripped from his childhood home. After the horrific accident that took away his parents' life, Tyler's grandfather removed him from the mansion and sent him away. Now, after twenty years, his grandfather had passed away and he could finally go home. However, even in his death, Tyler's grandfather had betrayed him once again, leaving the mansion to a woman he had never met. Even though Kate Mitchell had never met Tyler, she knew all about the accident that changed the Hayes's family. Unbeknownst to her, she was going to end up being caught in the middle of a long estranged relationship between two different generations. Two complete different personalities would have to learn to get along and play nice in order to survive a will that would change their lives.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Moving On:

Chapter 1 “After what you’ve been through with your parents and grandmother, you shouldn’t have to be here,” William Hayes said through his oxygen mask. His voice weak, soft, and wispy. Along with a private doctor and two nurses, Kate sat in Mr. Hayes’s bedroom, watching over him. The king-size bed that used to be in the room had been replaced by a hospital bed. Different types of medical equipment, measuring every aspect of his status, stood all around them. Holding his hand, she said softly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Tyler?” William Hayes’s lids slowly drooped over his eyes. A drop of tear slipped down the corner of his eye and onto the white pillow case. “It was my fault; I abandoned him.” Kate pulled a piece of Kleenex and dabbed at his tear. “It isn’t important now. Don’t worry about it. Someday, someday he’ll understand.” A series of coughs reverberated through William Hayes’s fragile frame, and his wrinkled hand flew to his chest, clutching it. Kate quickly moved aside as the doctor and nurses rushed forward to attend to him. When his coughing fit ceased, his trembling hand reached between them. Everyone immediately stepped aside for Kate. She cupped her hands over his. “I’m here.” He pulled down his oxygen mask as she leaned in. “Help me to … to help him.” His weak voice was barely audible, but Kate knew who he was referring to. The one regret that he couldn’t mend in time. She didn’t know how she could help him, but she nodded anyway. Mr. Hayes was a good man; he deserved to go in peace. She smiled at the frail old man lying in bed and moved forward, intending to put the oxygen mask back in place. “Kate, promise that you’ll help him,” Mr. Hayes said, clasping her hand. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she retained her smile. Having known Mr. Hayes for nearly five years, she’d heard all the stories about Tyler Hayes as a boy. Now and then, Mr. Hayes would take out a photo album and tell her the stories behind the pictures. But that was all she knew of Tyler—the boy behind all the stories. She had never met Tyler Hayes in person before. Mr. Hayes and Tyler had long been estranged, and neither had tried contacting each other in the past twenty years. Throughout all the health episodes that Mr. Hayes had suffered in the past few years, Tyler never showed his face or graced Mr. Hayes with a phone call. He was basically non-existent. She couldn’t blame Tyler, though. “Kate.” His frail voice brought her back to the moment. “I promise.” “Thanks. Thanks, Kate. Thanks for letting me play the grandfather that I never stepped up to. You’re the best granddaughter anyone could ask for.” Then he closed his eyes, his hand slipping from within hers. The muscles around his face relaxed, and it looked as if he’d simply fallen asleep. Only the long monotonous beep from the heartbeat monitor indicated otherwise. Kate stepped out of the room while the doctor and nurses flew into a flurry of activities. She didn’t know how long she stood outside. Eventually, the doctor stepped out and gave her a grim pat on her arm while the nurses brought Mr. Hayes’s body out of the room. She turned away from the doctor as her tears fell. Shortly after, calls started coming through her cell phone asking her about funeral arrangements. She knew Mr. Hayes had listed her as his emergency contact, but she was in no way qualified to make such decisions. She needed to find Tyler Hayes immediately. She went into the study and searched for the black leather Bible that Mr. Hayes had once showed her. She pulled out the Bible and ran her fingers along the cursive golden letters imprinted on the bottom left corner. Tyler Hayes. Mr. Hayes had bought it with the intention of giving it to Tyler for his eighteenth birthday, but he never did. For nearly ten years, the Bible had sat in the bottom drawer of Mr. Hayes’s desk. Flipping all the way to the last page of the Bible, she pulled out the piece of paper stuck within. Though there hadn’t been any contact between them, the late Mr. Hayes had been keeping track of Tyler, making sure that he didn’t lack for anything. With a heavy sigh, she dialed the number written neatly on the piece of paper. She broke into a small smile when

the line connected, surprised that it actually worked. “Hayes.” For a moment, Kate lost her voice. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. “Tyler Hayes?” “Who’s this?” There was no good way to go about delivering the news, so she took in a deep breath and gathered her courage. “I’m Kate, Kate Mitchell. I’m calling about your grandfather, Mr. Hayes.” There was no response on the other end of the phone, and she had an inkling that Tyler would hang up the phone at any moment so she hurried to continue. “He … he passed away.” Again, Tyler Hayes was silent. She waited, thinking he was probably dealing with shock or whatever feeling that was coursing through his system, but the silence dragged out and she felt compelled to say something. “The funeral home is asking about the arrangements. Should I get them to call you?” “Who are you?” Tyler’s voice was soft. “Kate Mitchell, I’m … a friend.” A grunt came from the other side of the line. “Do what you deem fit.” “Wait, Tyler. I can’t possibly make the decisions.” “Then don’t do anything; leave him wherever he is.” Kate pursed her lips. That wasn’t an answer she’d expected. She drew in a long, deep breath and continued. “All right, I’ll settle the funeral arrangements. I know he wanted to be buried with your grandmother and your parents.” Even in the continued silence, Kate could feel Tyler’s increased tension on the other end of the phone. Softening her voice, she said, “Come home. Come back home for the funeral.” There was a click and the line went dead. Kate sighed and shook her head, hoping Tyler would at least consider attending the funeral. She returned to the guest room that Mr. Hayes had set aside for her. She sat by the desk and took a glimpse at the queen-size bed in her room. She wanted nothing more than to hide under the covers and cry, but there were things waiting for her to do. Shoving all her feelings aside, Kate switched on her laptop and began making all the necessary arrangements.

Tyler clutched the phone in his hand and waited for the grief to come, but it never came. Perhaps he’d already done his grieving twenty years ago. Perhaps his childish hopes that his grandfather would someday turn up at his door finally died. Whatever it was, he couldn’t find a single ounce of sadness or any feeling of loss. “What is it, Ty?” Joanne asked. “Is it work?” Tyler couldn’t deal with Joanne right now. He stood and strode away, hoping to put some distance between them before Joanne started her motions of coaxing, then whining, and eventually throwing a fuss to get her way. “Ty.” Joanne sighed and hurried after him. “What’s wrong?” Tyler rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know you can tell me anything. I’m your fiancée,” Joanne cajoled while Tyler cringed. He didn’t know how Joanne got into her mind that they were engaged; they weren’t even a couple. She was simply his friend’s spoilt younger sister. But he wasn’t interested in dealing with that right now. Going into his room, he slammed the door behind him—right in Joanne’s face. “Ty!” He closed his eyes while Joanne continued shouting for him from behind the door. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain her, he never was. He sat on the ledge by his window and gazed out of his house. He’d wanted to go back to the mansion for the longest time. Not to visit his grandfather, but to look at the house he’d grown up in. He hadn’t been back there since his parents’ funeral. He remembered everything about that day. He remembered crying his eyes out when they lowered the coffins. He remembered Marianne embracing him while his grandfather turned his back to him and walked away. He remembered how he’d called after his grandfather, only to see him getting into a black sedan. His grandfather didn’t bother to turn back and offer him a hug or even some kind words.

Instead, almost as soon as the funeral was over, his grandfather got someone to pack up his things and ship him and Marianne off to another house. Every day, he waited for his grandfather to come for him or at least to visit him, but he never came. Each time the phone rang, he would race to it, only to hear another unfamiliar voice. Not once did his grandfather call to check on how he was doing. Once he was out of sight, he was out of his grandfather’s mind. Why should he go to his grandfather’s funeral when his grandfather had never bothered to look him up for the past twenty years? He never understood why his grandfather was so cruel to him. He was just an eight-year-old who didn’t know any better. Marianne had told him that his parents’ death was an accident and it wasn’t his fault. Then why did his grandfather punish him by abandoning him when he needed his grandfather the most? Tyler crooked his lower jaw and tightened the grip on his phone. Just when he made up his mind on not attending the funeral, his phone rang with another call from another unknown number. He sighed and picked up the call. “Hayes.” “Tyler Hayes?” “Yes.” “Good evening, Mr. Hayes. I’m your grandfather’s lawyer, Joel Sawyer. Your grandfather had insisted that I read the will in front of you, Miss Marianne West, and Miss Kate Mitchell after the funeral. You will need to be present before I can reveal the contents of the will.” Tyler rolled his eyes. He didn’t need any more money. The company that his parents was running became his when he turned twentyone. There was only one thing he wanted—the mansion. The mansion that he grew up in and was ripped from after having his parents taken away from him. “Let me know what the contents are over the phone. You can call me after the funeral.” “There’s a clause stating that if you do not turn up, no one else on the will gets anything.” Tyler drew in a long, frustrated breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hayes. I’m merely following your grandfather’s instructions.” Though he wasn’t willing to attend the funeral, he couldn’t allow the bad blood between him and his grandfather rob Marianne of what she rightfully deserved. For the past twenty years, she was all he had. She was his only family; she was there for him when no one else was. He couldn’t allow his anger to blind him to that fact. He sighed and said, “I’ll be there.”

Chapter 2 A solemn atmosphere enveloped and percolated through the Hayes mansion as Kate listened to all the condolences. Though she’d been at the mansion so many more times than the other guests, she couldn’t help feeling out of place. Tyler should be the one speaking to the late Mr. Hayes’s friends, the one listening to their condolences, not her. She scanned the room of unfamiliar faces for the umpteenth time and finally spotted Tyler. Recognizing him was much easier than she’d expected. He hadn’t changed much from the younger version she’d seen in the photo albums. His dark brown hair was shorter than it was in the photographs, and his bangs that nearly reached his eyes were pushed to the side. She leaned against the wall and watched him move around the living room in a black suit. It wasn’t the time to notice how well the suit fitted him or to admire the broad shoulders that made him the perfect rack for any style of clothes. Her foot inched forward, but she paused when she saw him brushing his fingers across the surfaces of the furniture in the living room. She took her eyes off him and glanced around the room. The late Mr. Hayes kept the design of the house almost exactly as it was before the tragedy occurred.

The coffee-brown leather couch that took up the largest space in the room, the chocolate-brown coffee table that sat above the furry beige rug, and the bookshelf against the white wall had all been around even before Tyler was born. Even the renaissance wall finishes were exactly the same. The late Mr. Hayes only added some new pieces of furniture to replace the space where the grand piano used to be. Besides that, nothing much had changed. The whole place was like a time capsule. It must be difficult for Tyler to see the house after so many years. She walked over and asked as she neared him, “Tyler Hayes?” His head snapped up, and he frowned the moment he laid eyes on her. “Kate Mitchell?” “Yeah, that’ll be me.” His head bobbed up and down while his eyes scrutinized her. “Is something wrong?” “I was expecting someone … older.” She looked around and laughed softly. “I guess I’m pretty young among this crowd.” “You said you were his friend, so I thought …” Then he shrugged, not bothering to complete his sentence. Kate smiled. “He wasn’t exactly my friend. He was sort of my grandmother’s friend.” “Sort of?” “It’s complicated.” Tyler gave her a look over and turned his back to her. She thought Tyler would prefer some company, but she supposed she was wrong. She pursed her lips and tucked her hair back behind her ear. “I’ll leave you alone.” “Wait,” he said and turned back to face her. She stood where she was, her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. “Never mind,” he continued after a moment. Kate could sense his hesitation. She watched his eyes sweep the room, observing the different faces. She understood his silent struggle; neither of them seemed to belong where they were. Moving next to him, she said, “I don’t know most of them either. I believe they used to work with your grandfather in the past. Some of them are from the elderly home where he volunteered. He made some good friends there.” Tyler crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m sure you have questions.” “How long have you or your grandmother known him?” “Around five years.” He nodded, his eyes still on the strangers in the room. In the few minutes that Kate had spent with Tyler, she realized he wasn’t a man of many words. She glanced around and thought about slipping back into the crowd and away from him, but she didn’t want to be rude. “Do you want me to introduce some of his friends to you?” “No.” Kate noticed Tyler drawing in a long breath as if her mere presence was annoying him. She was trying to be nice, but it seemed he preferred her gone. So she smiled and, with a light touch on his arm, walked away from him.

Tyler looked at Kate while she strode away. Her chestnut hair was tied up in a bun with the shorter strands falling out. He hadn’t noticed much about her except for the small, friendly smile she had on. She was right; he did have questions. He had so many questions, but he didn’t think anyone could provide him with an answer. He stared at the room filled with strangers, uncertain about what to do with himself. When he had rejected Kate’s offer, he’d braced for some form of coaxing or whining. Instead, she merely smiled and gave him space. For the first time that day, something other than the harrowing memories of his parents’ death got his attention. He observed Kate while she conversed with a cluster of elderly men. Even with the sweet smile she had in place, Tyler could see the grief in her eyes. How did she grow so close to a man who was so cold toward him? Why would she mourn the passing of a man so

heartless? Taking his eyes off her smile, he gave her a head to toe scan. A black sash was tied around her waist and into a knot on her back. The ends of the sash flowed down toward the edge of her dress. The heels she had on accentuated her slim legs. In her heels, she stood half a head above his shoulders. He took a step toward her. One step, and that was it. He didn’t know what he was doing. Her conversation with the elderly men was none of his business. He gave another look around the house before turning and walking out toward the back.

Kate saw Tyler bolt from the house and figured he probably needed some time and space. She wanted to follow after him, to make sure he was all right, but she couldn’t walk out of the house while everyone was still there. By the time the guests left, the sun was already beginning its descent. The orange tinge streamed in through the long windows and cast a warm glow into the house, bringing along with it a hint of sadness. She took a sip of the coffee in her hand and gazed out at the distant horizon. The mansion was set wide apart from the rest of the world, and the acres of land around the house belonged to the late Mr. Hayes. Surrounding it were never-ending trees that acted like a moat, keeping the house from the outside world. She never understood what the late Mr. Hayes loved about this house. Looking out from where she was felt so lonely. She couldn’t imagine how forlorn he must have been living all alone in the huge mansion. Among the trees, a lone figure sat with one of his legs stretched and his back against a tree. She set the coffee down on the table and strolled toward him, pausing when she was a few steps away. “Are you all right?” “Is everyone gone?” She nodded. “Except for Marianne and Mr. Sawyer. Marianne’s clearing away the food.” Tyler let out a heavy sigh. “Well then, let’s see what the old man has in his will.” Tyler got to his feet, dusted off the dirt on his pants, and headed toward the house. Kate walked alongside him, tempted to observe the real-life manifestation of the boy from all the stories she’d heard. She wanted to tell him how sorry the late Mr. Hayes was for abandoning him after his parents’ death. She wanted to let him know that he was always on the late Mr. Hayes’s mind. But she knew in her heart that he wasn’t ready. Her words would only end up pushing him away. “Did you come alone?” Kate asked. “Yeah. Just here to sit in for the will,” he said a moment later. If Kate hadn’t known his story or seen his taut jaws when he took in everything within the house, his words would’ve made her think he was a cold-hearted person. They returned to the mansion and headed into the kitchen in absolute silence. Tyler wasn’t ready to listen to anything that she had to say, and it was too hard for her to listen to what Tyler thought of his grandfather. She didn’t blame Tyler for being angry, but she couldn’t bear listening to anyone speak badly of the late Mr. Hayes, not today. By the time they got to the kitchen, Mr. Sawyer was already seated at the head of the table. The sixty-one-year-old veteran lawyer sat rigidly, his arm placed stiffly over the black folder on the table. Kate took a seat across from Tyler and turned to Mr. Sawyer. “Since we’re all here, I shall begin. Miss Marianne West.” Joel Sawyer faced the elderly woman seated next to him. “Mr. Hayes left you ten percent of all the money he had in his possession; that will be equal to slightly over four million dollars.” Turning his focus to Kate, he continued. “You, too, Miss Mitchell. You will receive ten percent of the money. The rest will go to Mr. Tyler Hayes.” Kate blinked when she heard Mr. Sawyer’s words. The late Mr. Hayes had always treated her kindly, but four million dollars? There must have been a mistake. She shook her head, but Mr. Sawyer interrupted her before she could speak. “There’s more.” He glanced at Tyler and her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “All the estates that the late Mr. Hayes owned will go to Tyler Hayes; all except this mansion.” Her jaw dropped while the loud scraping of Tyler’s chair against the floor pierced through the air.

“There must be a mistake,” Kate said, leaning forward on the table as Tyler stormed away. “Wait!” Mr. Sawyer called out. “There’s more. You need to listen to all of it, or, like I said, everyone here will have to forfeit their share of the inheritance.” Letting out an audible sigh, Tyler stopped and leaned back against the wall. He crossed his arms and stared into space, not looking at any of them. “This house cannot be sold. Miss Mitchell can choose to give up this house, but there is a clause to it.” He paused, seemingly waiting for Kate to make her decision. “Go on,” Kate urged. Blowing out a heavy breath, Mr. Sawyer gave her a wry smile. “If Miss Mitchell chooses to forfeit the house, it will be transferred to Mr. Tyler Hayes as long as the following conditions are met.” “Conditions?” she said. “Mr. Tyler Hayes and Miss Kate Mitchell will have to stay in this house together for a year.” “What?” A year? The confusion was quickly morphing into anger. What was the late Mr. Hayes thinking? She had told him before that she grew up having to take care of everyone and everything. Now that she was on her own, she came to treasure her freedom. She finally had the time to indulge in the things she loved. Why would he make her stay with a grandson whom he hadn’t seen for twenty years? “Let me finish. It’s rather detailed. You might as well wait to lose your temper at the end of the whole thing. It will save us some time.” She sighed softly and gestured for Mr. Sawyer to continue. “Beginning tomorrow, for the next year, both of you will need to stay here each and every night. Both of you have to be back at the mansion before midnight unless you are out together. If either one of you is traveling, you will have to take the other along.” He took a moment and glanced at both of them, seemingly making sure they were still listening. “All house guests have to leave the house by eight at night. House guests are only allowed to stay overnight once a month. Only Miss Marianne West is allowed to stay in this house for as long as she wishes. The late Mr. Hayes appointed me to make sure that the conditions are met. Hence, I will be staying here in this house with all of you.” Pausing, Mr. Sawyer turned back to her. “That’s if you choose to forfeit the house.” Kate tugged at her necklace. “Is there any other way around this?” Joel Sawyer shook his head. “If you choose to forfeit the house and the conditions are not met, the house will be torn down and the land will be sold to anyone except those present here. The receipts will then go to an elderly home.” “Are you done?” Tyler asked brusquely. “Yes, that’s all.” When Tyler went marching out, Mr. Sawyer reached out and held Marianne’s arm, stopping her from going after Tyler. “The late Mr. Hayes has a letter for you.” Taking the letter from his hand, Marianne shoved it into her pocket and half ran after Tyler. Kate sat where she was, wondering how she got herself into such a spot. “Miss Mitchell,” Mr. Sawyer said and waited for Kate to look at him. “When he was forming this will, I told him that he was being very selfish. I know this is incredibly unfair to you. He asked me to apologize on his behalf and wrote a letter for you, too.” Taking out another cream envelope, he slid it across the table. “He said you were his last chance to make right a wrong. I’m sorry that you are placed in such a predicament. Think it through and let me know. We’ll all need to move in if you decide to forfeit the mansion.” Kate twirled the letter in her hand. “Of course I’m going to forfeit it. This is Tyler’s home. I can’t take it or allow it to be torn down, but I need to talk to him. He has to be willing to accept the conditions as well.” Joel Sawyer nodded. “He knew you would do this for him.” She didn’t know if she should smile or frown. “One more thing, Miss Mitchell. Mr. Hayes wanted me to tell you that if you were to reject or give away the money he left you, he’ll come back and haunt you.” He paused and grinned. “He said you were like a granddaughter to him. He wanted to make sure that you’ll be well taken care of no matter what.” For the first time since she heard the will, her lips parted into a smile. Mr. Hayes knew her well. Reluctantly, she nodded before going after Tyler. You promised, Kate reminded herself as she plodded toward Tyler and Marianne. “Don’t be stubborn. You want the house, I know you do. Just accept the conditions,” Marianne said.

Kate wanted to hang back, thinking it was better for Marianne to handle the situation. But when Marianne saw her approaching, she shook her head and repeated, “Don’t be stubborn.” Then Marianne turned to her. “I’ll leave you youngsters to talk.” Kate pursed her lips and dragged her feet forward. Tyler’s jaws were shut tight, probably still seething at what he’d just heard. It didn’t require a genius to figure out that his anger would be directed at her. She didn’t choose to be in this situation, but she was sure she’d be treated like the antagonist. “Forfeit the house. You can’t sell it anyway. Forfeit it. We’ll follow the conditions, and I’ll pay you for that.” And so it begins. “I wasn’t going to steal the house from you. I know how much this house means to you.” “So what do you want?” “To help.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. Though he didn’t say anything, the contempt was clear. “Look, accept the conditions. It’s just one year,” she said. “That’s his condition. What’s yours?” “Mine?” “What do you want?” he asked, enunciating each word. You promised. She drew in a frustrated breath, asking God to give her patience. “Like I said, to help.” “If you didn’t want the house, then why would you stay by an old man’s side to take care of him?” Tyler continued. “Why act so high and almighty now?” Kate grappled with her anger. “I may not be as rich as you are, but I don’t need the money from the inheritance, and I definitely don’t need your house. I don’t even like this stupid place; it’s like a scene out of a horror movie.” She was tempted to reach over and strangle him. Reining in her anger, she took another deep breath and stepped away. “You’re not angry with me; you’re pissed about your grandfather’s will. It disrupts my life, too. So before you start venting your anger on me, maybe you should think about that.” Tyler remained silent, staring into the distant. “I’m going to tell Mr. Sawyer that I’m forfeiting the house. You decide if you want to go along with it.” Turning, Kate stalked away, wondering what she ever did to offend the late Mr. Hayes to deserve such punishment. “So? What did he say?” Marianne asked when she entered the house. She looked at the creases of worry etched in Marianne’s forehead. Giving her a wry smile, Kate could only answer with a sigh. Marianne handed her a glass of water. “Whatever he said, ignore him.” “Yeah.” She nodded and took a sip of water. “I’m not going to steal the house from him.” “I never thought you would.” Marianne’s immediate reply was comforting. At least someone didn’t think she was a gold digger. “Thanks.” She took another sip from the glass, then handed it back to Marianne. “I’ll inform Mr. Sawyer and head home. It’s been a long day.” “Thank you for doing Ty this favor,” Marianne said with a warm smile. Kate returned Marianne’s smile and headed into the kitchen. No matter how awful Tyler was, she did make a promise to the late Mr. Hayes. And it was just one year. It was the right thing to do. Besides, the mansion was huge. It should be easy to avoid Tyler if she wanted. After speaking with Mr. Sawyer, she left the house and slipped into her car. Inside, she pulled out the cream envelope from her back pocket. She played with it, twirling it around in her hand. She didn’t think it would be this tough to look at a letter, but it took her a couple of minutes before she could open the envelope.

Dear Kate,

I cannot begin to imagine your thoughts and feelings while you are reading this. Let me begin with a heartfelt apology. I am truly sorry for putting you in such a situation, but you are the only one I trust to handle this. You know the one regret I had in my life was not mending the mistake I made with Tyler. He did not deserve the

treatment he received. I should have been there for him, but I was so blinded by my own grief that I ended up letting down the most precious person left in my life. As I leave to meet his parents, the shame is mine to bear. But Tyler does not deserve to be haunted by the ghosts from the past. Kate, please help me give Tyler back his home.

Love, William Hayes

Chapter 3 “You’re really doing this?” Evelyn asked as Kate placed her sketchbook, stationery, and several folders into a box. “No, I’m just packing up for fun.” “That line of sarcasm doesn’t work for you; you do pack up for fun,” Evelyn stated matter-of-factly. “Isn’t it kind of rushed? Expecting you to move all your stuff in less than a day? And that Tyler, you said he was awful.” Evelyn picked up the clothes that Kate had placed on the bed and dumped them into the luggage. Kate glowered at Evelyn. She pulled out the clothes, folded them, then arranged them neatly in the luggage. “Kate, I know you can’t say no to helping people. But seriously, have you thought this through? You barely know the guy, and Mr. Hayes hadn’t seen him in twenty years. He could be the Zodiac or some crazy guy.” They should stop watching such thrillers. “One, I didn’t say he was awful. I said he wasn’t exactly a bundle of joy.” Evelyn rolled her eyes. “It’s the same meaning.” “Two, I don’t have to pack everything. I just need some of my clothes and my work stuff. And, I’m not going to be there alone; Marianne will be there, too.” “Yeah, his loyal housekeeper. No one will be on your side.” “God will be on my side.” Evelyn rolled her eyes again as her head swayed side to side. Evelyn never condemned or made fun of Kate’s faith, but she never believed in God. In fact, she didn’t believe in ghosts, angels, or anything spiritual. Kate stopped what she was doing and looked up at her best friend. She wished Evelyn would open her heart and trust that despite what she’d gone through, there was a God who loved her. But she never condemned Evelyn for her lack of faith either. “Why would I need someone on my side? I’m not fighting a war,” she said. “I know what I’m doing. I’ll make sure to lock my door and windows at night, happy?” “Not at all. You’re too trusting. You don’t know the evils of the world.” If anyone else had spoken those words to her, Kate would’ve laughed. But Evelyn had been through the worst of the foster system and seen more than her share of evils, so Kate only nodded as though she was a child listening to a mother’s lecture. While she continued packing, Evelyn continued in her bid to get Kate to change her mind. Evelyn hovered around her, following her wherever she went, but not lifting a finger to help. Kate didn’t mind the lack of help. Evelyn’s style of packing was to sweep everything into the luggage, then hope that it would close—a complete opposite of Kate’s style. But she hated having someone shadowing and getting in her way while she moved around the room. No matter what Evelyn said, Kate was adamant about going through with her decision. Putting aside her promise, she couldn’t allow Tyler to lose his house because of her, not when she knew what happened to him. Even as she got into her car, Evelyn was still going on and on about how dangerous it could be and how it wasn’t her style to do something so ridiculous. “Kate, I know you grew up taking care of people around you, but this isn’t your battle. Please, just think it through again.” “I have. I need to do this,” Kate stated before pulling the door close. She smiled brightly at Evelyn through the

windshield and waved, ignoring the scowl on her face.

When she got to the mansion, three other cars were parked outside. She’d hoped Tyler wouldn’t be around. Though she’d told Evelyn that she wasn’t fighting a battle, she did have a strategy in mind. She’d head in, put her stuff down in the guest room, and return to the office—all before Tyler got there. She took a glimpse of the cross pendant hanging from her rear-view mirror. “I declare that today will be a good day, Lord. I know You’re always with me and You’ll help me in whatever situation I face.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out of her car and looked at the mansion, her home for the next year. The beige exterior of the three-story mansion and the clear glass on the long windows stared back at her. Though the late Mr. Hayes had kept up with the maintenance, the walls were tinted with a hint of gray and dullness; probably due to the dust collected over the past few years. The layer of dust cast a gloom over the mansion, making it seemed as if it, too, were in mourning. She shook her head and headed toward the door. Even before she was near the door, she could hear the lively racket within. With her luggage in hand, she cautiously pushed it open. The moment she stepped in, all the clamor ceased. Everyone seemed to freeze in place, seemingly waiting for someone to react. That was until a shrill whistle woke everyone from their trance. “You’re Kate Mitchell?” She moved toward the crowd and cast a quick glance at the four men and the woman present. “Yup,” she answered the man wearing a plain gray T-shirt that showed off his bulging muscles. The same man let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Well, Anne, you should start worrying now.” He got to his feet and reached over with a boyish grin. “I’m Ryan Faris.” Tilting his head to the left, he said, “That’s Joseph Hansen and Dan Riley.” Each smiled and waved when his name was mentioned. “The one sitting next to Ty is Joanne Riley.” “I’m Ty’s fiancée,” Joanne said while scrutinizing Kate from head to toe. Kate shook Ryan’s hand and nodded politely as she looked at the polished blonde sitting next to Tyler. Thick mascara lined her eyes and her nails glimmered with neon pink nail polish. She couldn’t help conjuring up the image of a Barbie doll when looking at Joanne. “You’re all here to help him move?” Kate took the chance to give everyone another glimpse. All the guys appeared tall, their lanky legs stretched out casually in front of them, and all of them seemed to be at ease. All except Tyler. His legs were stretched out like the rest, but his arms were folded, and he was staring into space as though he was afraid to look anywhere else. A moment of silence descended as everyone turned to look at the single piece of luggage standing by the couch. “I want to say yes, but it’ll be pretty obvious that we’re lying. So, here’s the truth: We’re here to see who Ty is going to be living with for the next year.” Ryan beamed another of his boy-next-door grin and winked. Despite his hulking figure, his gregarious nature removed the threat of how his arm could easily crush her if he so wanted. “Is that all you have? Looks like both of you travel light,” Joseph Hansen commented. Kate turned to look at Joseph. If she hadn’t known that Tyler was the only child, she would’ve thought they were brothers. They shared the same dark brown hair, except his was cut much shorter, showing a clear, radiant face. He gave her a small pensive smile as though he, too, was contemplating her character. “Actually, I still have a box of work stuff in my car. But other than that, this is all I brought.” Looking at Tyler, she said, “Your grandfather had a guest room prepared for me on those times I stayed over. Is it all right if I take the same room?” “You can have the master bedroom,” Tyler answered. “I’m more comfortable in the guest room. If there’s nothing else, I’ll put my stuff in the room and head out to work.” Tyler gave no reaction. She sighed but managed to catch herself before she rolled her eyes. Silence meant consent. She reached for her luggage, but Joseph Hansen rose and strode over. “Let me.” Taking the handle, he waited for Kate to take the lead.

“I’ll get your box. Is your car locked?” Ryan asked. “I’ll get it myself.” Kate made her way toward the door, but Ryan easily caught up with her. Once they were out of earshot, Ryan smiled warmly. “Don’t get offended by Ty’s attitude. He’s always been like that, even with us.” Quietly, Kate considered Ryan while he pulled the box out of the back seat. “May I ask how you got to know Tyler?” Ryan grinned mischievously. “Why?” “You guys seem to be on the opposite ends of the spectrum; character wise, that is.” “So you noticed, huh? I have no idea how we actually became good friends. He’s kind of a weirdo,” Ryan teased. “We went to the same school. He was really good in basketball, and I think we just hung around him because he was so good. Then we sort of became friends.” Kate shook her head and chuckled at his story. As they re-entered the house and headed up the stairs with Joseph, she could feel Tyler’s eyes on her. Still peeved with his words from the night before, she kept her eyes straight, refusing to turn back to him. “Nice room,” Ryan said as he placed the box onto the dark brown desk. “Yeah, it’s pretty decent,” Kate said as she scanned the familiar room. The white walls were matched with dark chocolate furniture, just as all the rooms were. The large wardrobe took up the entire length of a wall while the queen-size bed and study desk leaned against another. Kate loved the simplicity of the room. She never liked seeing clutter around, so this simple bedroom was perfect for her. There was also the one thing she did love about the house, the high ceiling that made the room feel so much more spacious. Joseph twirled the luggage in his hand and asked, “Need any help unpacking?” “No, I’m good.” Reaching into the box, she pulled out her laptop. “I’ll unpack tonight. I have to get to work.” Joseph peered into the box filled with folders. “What do you do?” “I own an interior design firm.” She strode out of the room with Joseph and Ryan following. “Why are you still going to work? I heard you inherited quite a sum; I’m sure you can live off that,” Joseph said casually. Kate paused and narrowed her eyes, studying Joseph, considering if his question was of curiosity or accusation. “I’m not here for the money if that’s what you’re asking.” Joseph raised both his hands in peace. “I was merely stating a fact. It isn’t my money, so I don’t care who gets it.” She turned and continued toward the stairs. “I’ve been very blessed to be able to do what I love,” Kate answered simply. “I get to turn houses into homes for my clients to live and create great memories in.” “I think all of you should leave so we can settle down and rest,” Tyler said as he emerged at the top of the stairs. “I thought we only need to leave by eight? You haven’t even given us a tour,” Ryan complained. Tyler only glared at him. “If you don’t want to, then Kate can give us a tour,” Joseph added. “Get out of here.” Kate pursed her lips to stop them from curling. Ryan wasn’t joking when he told her about Tyler’s attitude. “It’s okay. They can stay if they want. I’m heading out to work anyway.” Kate took a step toward the stairs, but Tyler reached out, his hand firm on her arm. “Stay,” he said softly, almost like a plea. Both Joseph’s and Ryan’s eyes widened. “Is there something you need?” Kate stared warily at Tyler. Last night, he’d made it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with her. What could he want with her now? “We should go,” Joseph said. Giving Tyler a pat on his back, both Ryan and Joseph made their way down the stairs. “Stay for a while,” Tyler continued. “The house—” “Ty!” Kate jumped at the sudden scream. Tyler’s fiancée didn’t seem pleased with his decision to kick them out. “One minute.” He plodded down the stairs. She couldn’t hear what was going on, but there was some commotion until a door slammed shut.

Ryan, Joseph, and Dan made their way back to their cars while Joanne continued screaming at the door.

“Forget it. You know how he’s like. He isn’t going to open the door,” Ryan said. Joanne’s shoulders slumped. Dan glanced over at his sister while he made his way toward his car. Ryan was right, it was a losing battle. Joanne could stand there and shout until her voice turned hoarse and Tyler still wouldn’t bother about her. Whenever Tyler chose to shut the world out, nobody ever got in. Dan couldn’t help rolling his eyes. He never understood his sister’s obsession with Tyler. Since young, she had been the apple of his parents’ eyes and had grown up pampered. Though everyone who saw how Tyler treated Joanne thought he was mean to her, Dan couldn’t blame him. Joanne was one clingy person who thought the world revolved around her. “And you should stop telling everyone that he’s your fiancé.” Dan shook his head at the ludicrous statement she’d been making. “He never denied it,” Joanne whined. “Silence means consent.” Joseph and Ryan burst into laughter while Dan sighed heavily. When Joseph finally managed to stop laughing, he said, “If you’re referring to anyone else, I can’t comment. But, Anne, we’re talking about Ty. He barely answers half our questions, much less your insanity.” Ryan nodded. “Yeah. I don’t even want to ask how you decided that he wanted to upgrade your one-sided relationship to fiancé-fiancée level. Everyone here knows that the two of you aren’t even a couple.” “Yes, we are. He’s been my boyfriend since we were young, and he’s never—not once—denied it,” she screeched. Dan took a deep breath. “He just can’t be bothered with you.” Dan had told her this countless times, but her skull was so thick that nothing ever got in. All she had in her head were her stupid fantasies and make-believe world. “Shut up. I won’t let any of you sow discord between Ty and me.” “That’s the problem; there’s no Ty and you,” Ryan mumbled under his breath, but everyone heard him. Dan felt Joanne staring at him, probably expecting him to put up some sort of defense for her. But it was difficult when he was on Ryan’s side. Voicing his opinion would only end up in an ugly shouting spectacle that he wasn’t interested in having. Joanne didn’t have the ability to think logically, so any effort at reasoning would only be wasting his breath. “Hey, Joe, you’re working the night shift, right? Since you’re dropping Ryan off, can you take Anne along? I have some work I need to rush.” Dan didn’t want to dump his idiotic sister on Joseph and Ryan, but he didn’t want to have Joanne in his car. Once they were on their own, she would probably start throwing her tantrums, accusing him of never being on her side. After all these years, he was tired of having to entertain her whims. At least Joseph would have Ryan in his car, and that would be enough to keep Joanne’s mouth shut. Ryan was the one person in the group who had never allowed her to get away with anything. He loved teasing people, especially Joanne. He didn’t have a problem putting Joanne down and laughing at her stupidity. She used to try fighting Ryan with outbursts of tantrums, but it never worked on him, and she finally learned to shut her mouth around him. Joseph scowled at Dan. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.” Ryan turned to Joseph. “Guess we’re in for one hell of a miserable ride home.” Joanne plodded toward Joseph’s car and got into the back seat without another word. Joseph directed another glare at Dan and mouthed the words ‘you owe me’ before getting into his car.

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