After we finish, I pay the check and help her with her coat. The restaurant is still busy, and the bar area is packed with people waiting for tables. We move through the crowd toward the exit, Pedro leading the way, the other guard at our backs.
My eye catches on a couple near the bar. The man is unremarkable, with brown hair and a weak jawline, wearing khakis and a polo shirt like he’s trying too hard to look put-together. The woman next to him is blonde, pretty in a forgettable way, laughing at something on her phone.
I know their faces from the background check. Mason Porter and Elizabeth Morris.
Savannah hasn’t noticed them yet. She’s focused on navigating through the crowd, one hand on my arm to keep from getting separated.
Then Lizzy looks up. Her eyes widen when she sees Savannah.
“Oh my God,” she says, loud enough to carry. “Savannah?”
Savannah stops, and her entire body goes rigid.
Mason turns, and his face is a mix of surprise and guilt.
They start moving toward us. Pedro shifts position, putting himself between them and Savannah before they can get within five feet. The other guard moves up beside him, creating a wall.
“Savannah, wait,” Mason says. “Can we talk?”
Savannah’s face is completely blank. She looks at them like they’re strangers she’s never met.
“No,” she says. Just that one word, flat and final.
“Please,” Lizzy tries, her voice shaking. “I miss you. We need to talk about what happened.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Savannah’s voice could freeze water. “We’re done. We’ve been done.”
Mason tries to step around Pedro, but my man doesn’t budge. He’s built like a wall, and Mason looks like a child next to him.
“Who the hell is this guy?” Mason asks, gesturing at me.
Savannah doesn’t answer but turns and walks toward the exit. I follow her, and my men fall in line behind us. I can hear Mason still calling her name, and Lizzy starting to cry, but we’re already pushing through the door into the Chicago cold.
Outside, Savannah presses her hands to her face. “I’m fine,” she says before I can ask. “I just need a minute.”
I give her space but stay close enough to catch her if she falls.
After a minute, she straightens up and drops her hands. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “For the security and for keeping them away from me.”
“That’s what they’re here for.”
“I didn’t think I’d see them. I thought Chicago was big enough that I could avoid them.”
“Nothing is guaranteed in a city you used to call home. It’s my fault I brought you out here.”
“It’s not. I’d have to face them someday, anyway.” She sniffles and wraps her arms around herself. The temperature has dropped since we went inside, and her coat isn’t thick enough for standing on street corners.
“We should get back to the hotel,” I say.
“Yeah.”
The car pulls up, and we get in. The drive back is quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. At the hotel, we walk to the elevator together, the guards trailing behind us.
When we reach our floor and stop at her door, she turns to me. “Thank you,” she says. “For today.”
“It’s been a long day,” I say. “Let’s call it a night.”
She nods and disappears into her room.
