Page 65 of Secondhand Secrets

She sagged forward, shoulders rounded while she took a minute to catch her breath. To summon the courage to face him.

Could she face him?

She had to. He deserved better than her running and hiding.

So, she planted her feet on the ground and stood. Though her balance wobbled and her hands shook, she turned the door handle, releasing the latch.

All too soon, Chip’s heart wrenching hazel stare caught her, and she wanted to stumble away. Back into her stall. Back to hiding. Janice retreated from behind his left shoulder, her downturned gaze a sign she sought to give them space.

Chip’s focus shifted all over her, from her face—with no doubt puffy, red eyes and smeared makeup—down to her crumpled dress with distinguishable marks of spilled champagne and tears.

Though her throat turned raw, she choked out a pitiful, “I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t tell if she apologized for fleeing to the bathrooms, for being somewhat tipsy, or for looking a complete mess.

So she offered a weak explanation to patch over the pain she’d caused and would still cause in due time, her next words paired with a deceptive shrug.

“I’m not much fun tonight.” Her lip trembled, but she managed to hold back any more tears and add, “Go back to the party, okay?”

His gaze moved about her face before he grabbed her hands and pulled her into him, his forehead finding hers.

“You’re overwhelmed.” His voice was low and intimate enough that only she could hear. “And we’re leaving this party, right now. Together.”

“Chip.” Her voice shook, husky and hollow. She was doing it again. Hurting his chances, when he really needed to stick around and mingle some more. “I’ll be fine. Just go back and make more friends”

His brow pulled lower with an expression that said she was absurd to think he’d ditch her for people he barely knew. Maybe he was right. Maybe his loyalty was just another reason she needed to let him go.

He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead, as though he saw her pulling away and refused to let her go. “I’ve talked to everyone I need to talk to. We’re leaving.”

He stepped back and caught her elbow, nodding a silent thanks to Janice before guiding Ally out the bathroom door.

The pounding of loud music, the rush of unfamiliar faces, and the numerous glances up and down of people noticing her disheveled state. As much as she loved Chip, she’d made him look bad.

And another thing, I love him too much.

Even if he didn’t feel embarrassed, his inability to save himself from her only made things worse.

He deserved so much more than she could give.

He deserved someone more intellectual and worldly. Someone with the stamina to counter the moments when his self-sacrificing failed him.

Perhaps a kinder version of Angeline.

Definitely not some Harlow blow-in named Ally Egan.

Thirty-Two

Chip peered across the cab’s backseat to Ally, now turned to her window to conceal the doubt he’d already witnessed dragging at her face. And even then, her frazzled inner state flowed through the stiffness in her drawn shoulders and her arms wrapped tight around her waist.

The outside streetlights flickered blue and gold on her skin, skin that puffed under her eyes while stray makeup ran down her cheeks. She was a mess, but none of that had anything to do with how she looked.

He’d asked too much.

Bringing her to Boston had been a mistake. His fault lay in telling her what he’d give up to have her in his life. Then again, all those weeks ago, she’d voiced a wish for love and escape. And yet, he’d never seen anyone so bereft at getting what they wanted.

A frown pulled at his brow, and he reached out to tug her hand into his. Her gaze momentarily hit his before she squeezed her eyes shut in a pained grimace, as though his touch hurt her more than her solo window gazing did.

What a fragile and rare moment. Rare because Ally Egan seemed to want silence. Fragile because, well, he could feel her pulling away and didn’t know exactly why.

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