Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I’m so far gone it’s almost funny.
I close the notebook without writing anything. There are no words for what happened tonight. No clinical observations that capture the way my chest cavity cracked open when she looked at me.
Tomorrow.
The word echoes in my head, hollow and familiar. I’ve been telling myself tomorrow for months now. Tomorrow I’ll stop watching from the shadows. Tomorrow I’ll talk to her properly. Tomorrow I’ll be brave enough to do something about this thing that’s consuming me.
Tomorrow has become a lie I tell myself so I can sleep at night.
But tonight was different. Tonight she looked at me like she saw something worth seeing. Tonight her fingers brushed mine and neither of us pulled away.
Maybe tomorrow can finally mean something.
I’ve spent two winters in the Hindu Kush. I’ve walked into firefights where the odds were against me. I survived things that should have killed me, and I did it without flinching.
But the thought of asking Hailey Parker to have dinner with me makes my palms sweat like I’m seventeen again, working up the nerve to ask Jenny Morrison to junior prom.
I was braver then. Or maybe just dumber.
Same difference.
Morning comes too fast and not fast enough.
I’m at Cole’s office by seven, running through the day’s schedule with the focus of a man desperately trying not to think about anything else. Security protocols for the upcoming gala. Background checks on the new catering staff. A conference call with the team handling the London office transition.
Cole watches me through most of it, and I can feel him reading my behavior the same way I read everyone else’s.
“You seem distracted,” he says when the briefing is done.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I meet his eyes. Cole Asher built a tech empire by reading people, by seeing through the masks they wear. He’s one of the few people I’ve never been able to fool.
“There’s something I need to handle,” I say carefully. “Personal.”
Cole leans back in his chair, and I see . . . understanding.
“This is about Hailey.”
“Cole—”
“Knox, I’m not blind. Neither is Sloane.” He almost smiles. “You’ve been finding excuses to come down to the studio for months. Invented problems that don’t exist. And every single time, you end up hovering near her workstation looking like you’re trying to solve a puzzle you can’t quite crack.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say.
“Sloane thinks it’s sweet,” he continues. “She also thinks you’re both idiots for not doing anything about it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple.” He stands, gathering the files from our meeting. “You like her. She likes you. The only complicated part is the story you’re telling yourself about why it won’t work.”
“You don’t know that she—”
“I know exactly what I see. And what I see is two people who light up every time they’re in the same room and then spend all their energy pretending they don’t.” He pauses at the door. “Just ask her, Knox. Whatever happens, it’s better than this limbo you’ve been living in.”
He shrugs. “And for what it’s worth? Sloane’s pretty sure she’ll say yes.”
He’s gone before I can respond.
But his words echo in my head as I step back into the elevator and press the button for Sloane’s floor. A year of watching. Months of following. And what has it gotten me? A notebook full of observations and a permanent ache in my core.
No more excuses. No more pretending. No more slow spirals through the studio acting like I’m there for any reason other than her. After last night, after the bookstore, the pretense feels pointless.
The doors open into Sloane’s studio, and I walk straight toward Hailey’s workstation.
Sloane looks up as I pass, eyebrows rising. I catch the question in her eyes, the curiosity, but I don’t stop to explain. Let her wonder. Let her suspect. I’m past caring what anyone thinks.
Hailey’s bent over something delicate, silver wire catching the light as she twists it into shape. But she must sense me approaching because her hands go still before I reach her. When she lifts her head, there’s color already rising in her cheeks.
She felt it too. Last night. She’s been thinking about it the same way I have.
“Knox.”
“Hailey.”
We stare at each other. The air between us feels different today. Charged with the memory of last night, with everything we didn’t say at the Strand. Her fingers fidget with the wire in her hands, the only sign that she’s not as composed as she’s pretending to be.
“You’re not checking anything,” she observes. Her voice comes out slightly uneven. “No clipboard. No security panels.”
“No.”
“So this is . . .”
“Me asking you something.”
Her breath catches, just barely. “Okay.”
I clear my throat. “There’s a holiday market. At Union Square.”
She waits. Her eyes don’t leave mine.
“I thought you might want to go.” The words come out rougher than intended. “With me.”