Page 63 of Chasing Lyric
The Hallmark romantic or the disappearing ghost?
Chapter Thirteen
LYRIC
I’m waiting.
I’m also a little on the pissed-off side.
Chase is late.
He said he would be here at seven, and it’s now a quarter to eight.
My foot taps impatiently on the rug on the living room floor, and my arms are folded harshly over my chest as I stare aimlessly at the front door. Anger seeps through my every pore.
Dammit! I can’t believe I fell for this.
Chase sounded so sincere on the phone today, but he’s ghosting me again. How I could ever have thought about giving him another chance is beyond me.
I’m smarter than this.
“You’re an idiot, Lyri!” I stand in frustration and start pacing my living room, letting out an annoyed grunt, when the doorbell rings. My head snaps toward the door, my heart leaping up into my throat as my breath catches.
I shouldn’t let him have this effect on me.
I need to remember I’m angry.
Angry as hell.
I storm to the door and yank it open with far too much brute force, ready to unleash my fury at him. “You’re a fucking—” I stop midsentence, taking in all the amazing sights and smells before me. My senses are in complete overload right now. Chase is standing there in his pristine suit, holding a massive bunch of bi-color pink and white, and double pink Chinese carnations in one hand and the most delicious-smelling takeout in the other.
I fold my arms across my chest as he manages a weak smile.
He has remembered my favorite flower.
He has taken me from insatiably mad to swooning within an instant.
Infuriating asshole.
He hands the flowers to me.
My lips turn up as I reach out and take them from him. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
Chase places the takeout bag on the yellow armchair and brings his hand up, cupping my face. “Of course, I did. I remember everything about you.”
He’s good, I’ll give him that.
“Well, that’s a Hallmark pick-up line if ever I’ve heard one.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Chase breathes out. “Chinese carnations are hard to find this time of year. I went to seven different florists before I found the right ones. I wasn’t coming without them.” His voice is rough with sincerity, like he’s been running on nerves and adrenaline just to get here. “I really wanted to get them for you.” He looks at me like that fact alone should excuse the world. Like I’m supposed to melt right here in the doorway because he brought me flowers.
And dammit—I do.
My heart lurches. “Trust me,” I whisper, trying to steady myself. “I know how hard they are to find this time of year, if you don’t know where to go.” I swallow, heat rising in my throat. “Thank you. I love them.”
I press one hand to his chest, feel his heart hammering beneath my palm, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, or perhaps it’s the way his eyes darken as they search mine, but my knees weaken just a little.
He leans down slowly. It’s not hesitant, it’s calculated like a man who’s waited too long and doesn’t intend to wait any longer. My breath catches, and then his lips crash onto mine.
