Twenty-Five
I freeze, listening intently, but it’s definitely Chase. His voice has that deep, self-assured tone I’ve quickly become familiar with. A thrill races through me—he’s here!—which I attempt to stamp down immediately. I peer between the woven branches, swinging my seat slowly around until I find him. He’s standing with a woman beside one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a clear one that provides an excellent view of stars glittering against a dark sky. He looks delicious in his well-tailored but understated suit—no feathers, sparkles or ribbons for him—and the woman looks equally elegant.
Did you seriously just use the word ‘delicious’?
Shut up.
I push aside my internal argument and notice that the woman is the same one I saw when I traveled back to the scene from Chase’s past
