Being Me (Inside Out #2)(86)

“Let’s talk while we start a hot shower.” He laces his fingers with mine and leads me toward the bedroom. “Turns out Ricco was not only jealous of Mark and Rebecca’s relationship, but furious that Mark took advantage of Rebecca. He wanted to bring down Riptide as payment for hurting her. Mary went along for the ride for the money and because she was angry Mark didn’t give her more opportunities.”

“Is Rebecca involved?” I ask as we enter the bathroom.

Chris removes his boots and opens the shower and turns it on. “Not according to Ricco and Mary.”

“Then where is she?”

“That’s the big question. Ricco insists Mark had to have done something to make her run.”

“So, do the authorities think she’s in hiding?”

“They don’t know where she is, but if Mary and Ricco, or Mark for that matter, know, I’m confident Blake will find out.”

“There’s still a concern that Mark is involved?”

“Blake doesn’t think so. He thinks Mary and Ricco know where she is, and that they’ll break under questioning.”

“I just can’t believe Ricco knows where she is. But then, I wouldn’t have believed he was a part of this, either.”

Chris scrubs his jaw. “You and me both. I don’t have a high opinion of Ricco but I didn’t have this low of one, either. Oh, and Blake wants you at the police station tomorrow to go on file formally with what you know.”

“Right.” I grab my purse off the counter and remove my phone. “I guess I should text Mark and tell him I won’t be in.” Chris’s shift in mood is instant, his expression turning stormy, his jaw clenching, and I quickly add, “Maybe not ever again.”

He goes still. “What are you saying?”

“That I want all or nothing so I have to be willing to give the same.”

He closes the distance between us, his arms caging me against the counter, searching my face. “You’d give up Allure for me?”

“Yes.” It’s a decision I didn’t fully realize I’d made until this moment, but after tonight it’s inevitable and right. “But I need my own career and independence. Those things are important to me.”

“I’ll support you in any way I can, baby.”

“But not by doing things for me, Chris. Me earning success because I’m me. I need that.”

“I understand.” He brushes my hair off my shoulders, his fingers resting on my neck in that familiar way I’ve missed so much these past few days. “We’re going to make this work this time.”

The conviction in his voice makes me believe him. “Yes, we will.” I text Mark and drop my phone to the counter, not caring what the reply is. Not when Chris’s fingers are tugging at my blouse.

He slowly strips away my clothing, tenderly kissing my shoulders, my neck, my lips. We step under the blissful heat of the hot shower, washing away the chill of the night, and with it the bitter cold of all we have been through these past few days. Resting my head on Chris’s chest, being in his arms, I feel as if I’ve been lost and found again. But Rebecca is still lost, and I fear the worst for her.





Thirty




Chris and I spend several hours on Saturday at the police station, and the Rebecca mystery is no closer to being solved. I have a bad feeling about her that I can’t shake, and this fans the flames of my need to find Ella. I go ahead and file a missing person’s report and contact the French consulate. After that, Chris and I go home and we don’t leave the apartment the rest of the weekend. We just revel in being together, making love, and watching movies, though we take a trip to the gym, where I just about die re-creating my much-neglected treadmill routine.

Monday morning, we reenter the real world. Chris goes with me to the school, and despite expecting the worst, I am crushed to discover Ella is a no-show. Afterward, we discover she hasn’t paid her rent. We pay it for her and then stop by the police station to update the report with what we’ve discovered.

In an effort to cheer me up, Chris convinces me we should head out Tuesday morning to his godparents’ Sonoma property and attend an art exhibit in the gallery next door. Katie is thrilled, and truth be told, so am I. The feeling of family and belonging is a welcome one. By eight that evening, Chris and I have had dinner, he is painting in his studio, and I am packing for the trip. Chris has yet to unpack from L.A., so I open his suitcase to begin pulling out what isn’t needed.

After I remove the dirty clothes, my hand settles on a small, clear bag of the paintbrushes he autographs, and I stop. There was one of these in Rebecca’s keepsake box—but he said he barely knew her. Why would she have kept one? I pull one of the brushes from the bag and stare at it with a frown.

Chris appears in the doorway. “Do you know where I put—” He pauses. “What’s wrong?”

I get up and go to the closet. “I have a question for you.” I flip on the light and drop to my knees in front of the safe. “What’s the combination?”

“What’s going on, Sara?”

“You’ll see in a minute. The combination?”

He tells me the numbers and I dial the lock. Yanking open the door, I grab the box I’d found in Rebecca’s unit, retrieve the brush inside, and hold it up for Chris to see. “Why does Rebecca have your paintbrush in her keepsake box?” Then I grab the torn photo and pop to my feet to show that to him, too. “And do you know anything about this photo?”