The Plan (Off-Limits Romance, #4)(23)

I swallow, so thrown off, I have to take a second to gather my thoughts, lest I blurt something out. I look down at my hand, still palm-up on the table, and feel a veil of surreality shimmer over both of us. After a deep breath, I glance back up. “So why’s he being that way? What’s the matter?”

His eyes shut, and he gives a quick shake of his head. “Sometimes an asshole is an asshole.”

“That sounds nebulous. And possibly excusatory. Surely that’s not true. And anyway, sometimes this person does nice things. I think he’s capable. In fact, lately, my neighbor hasn’t been so bad.”

He takes my hand again, and rubs along one of the lines. “That’s good to know. I’m glad to hear no hauntings will be needed,” he says in his low ghost-voice.

“No. I think no hauntings will be needed.”

“Very good.”

“This is a good disguise for Mr. Famous,” I whisper, with a small quirk of my lips.

What he’s doing with my hand… He’s tracing in between my fingers.

“Yeah,” he says, and the word sounds thick and heavy. Tired. And just like Gabe. He’s dropped his faux voice as he says, “Trying to stay in the shadows. For now, at least.”

My eyes shut as he strokes the base of my palm. I pull them open and find his hot on my face. “Does everybody get this kind of séance and palm reading,” I whisper.

He blinks, then lets go of my hand. Without another word, he stands and waves me toward the door. “Goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye,” I snort. I wait till Kat and I are well beyond ear shot to growl, “Your future looks grim, Kitty.”

“I tried to tell you,” she hisses.

“You failed.”





2





Gabe





I watch Marley in the dunk tank, smirking underneath my sheet as she gets pies hurled at her in the name of charity. Almost two hours later, I hear her trudge up the stairs to her apartment. Shortly after that, she starts her shower.

Marley in the steamy shower, whipped cream sliding down her body…

Fuck.

I’m not jerking off again today, so I pull on my sneakers and hit the pavement. There’s another day of festival tomorrow, so the booths that crowd the medians are battened down. To my left, down toward Main Street, I can see fluorescent lights illuminating rides, the blinking, neon colors spinning with the Ferris Wheel. I hear voices, smell popcorn and funnel cake.

Best to run the other way.

As I find my pace, I think of New York. It’s not often I allow myself to wander there, but maybe it’s the smell of sweets, the distant sound of carousel tunes.

“I want the panda, Daddy!”

“Are you sure you want to ride a panda? Pandas in the wild aren’t very fast.”

“But we’re not in the wild. We’re at the boardwalk!”

Funny how I used to laugh at runners. Those who ran at night, on snowy days, in early morning. Who the fuck would do that? Why? Now I know how good it feels to run—to run away.

The air is brittle, biting, harsh. I let myself enjoy it. I run past a small boy on his father’s shoulders, talking loudly as he waves a glow stick. For a second, I want to run home and lock myself inside the under-the-stairs closet. Instead I let my mind go somewhere else forbidden: Marley’s breasts under her V-necked shirt as she breathed mere feet in front of me today. She smelled like something smooth and sweet, and when she smirked, it made me want to kiss her in the corner of her mouth. Those thoughts just cut me open, though, so I direct my mind another way.

Jesus, what I wouldn’t give right now to smack that ass and watch it bounce.

Fuck, and now I’m running with a halfie. My hand curls around the memory of her pony-tail, tight in my fist, and then I have to focus on the rhythm of my breathing. There is nothing but the sting of cool air on my cheeks, the dappled pearl of moonlight on the path ahead of me. Autumn used to be my favorite season…years and years ago.

For the next hour, I am everywhere and nowhere, streaking through the darkness like the ghost I dressed up as today: detached and translucent, achingly anonymous. As I approach the house, I see her lights on upstairs, her front curtains open slightly at one window. I think I can see her shadow, maybe. I can almost feel the warm light of her lamp.

How pathetic.

As I get into the door, greeted by Cora’s wagging tail, my phone rings in the pocket of my running shorts. I pull it out slowly. Hugh. My stomach bottoms out as I bring it to my ear.

“Gabe. How’s your weekend treating you?”

I shut the door behind me. “What happened, Hugh?”

“Has your attorney called yet?”

“No.”

He blows his breath out, and I clutch the doorframe, blinking as the room tilts.

“I’m…afraid it didn’t go your way. Your attorney read your statement. It was moving. I think the whole room thought so. But there’s no precedent that puts you in the win here. Maybe if you could have been there—”

“What. Happened.”

“I saw your lawyer at the Green Umbrella just now. You know—”

“The bar,” I manage. “Yes—and?”

“He’d had a few too many.”