Penny leans down. “You looked rough out there tonight.”
“Thanks for the support.”
“She means—” Conrad starts.
“I know what she means.”
Conrad glances at Penny, and she nods slightly, understanding something unspoken. I guess that’s how it is when you’re dating someone.
“I’m an ice cube,” she says. “So I’m getting in the car. But Conrad’s not leaving until you talk, so for everyone’s sake, just talk to him.” She squeezes Conrad’s arm and saunters off toward his car, a few spots away.
Conrad, meanwhile, heads over to my passenger door, opens it, and drops into the seat with a grunt. He waits all of one second before cutting to the chase. “What’s going on?”
I stare for a second, then, well, why not? If anybody could understand, it’s Conrad. “I’m in a situation.”
“I’m listening.”
“Made a deal that seemed simple, but the stakes are higher than I thought.”
He waits.
“And if I screw it up, it could end my career. So…that’s great.”
Conrad’s looking out the windshield at the empty parking lot and the distant lights of downtown St. Paul. “Been there.”
“…And? What do I do?”
“You show up. You play with everything you got. And you leave the rest to God.” He shrugs, a gesture that seems too casual for the weight of what he’s saying.
I blink at him. He can’t be serious. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He turns in the seat to face me more fully. “Someone told me once, faith isn’t knowing it’ll work out. It’s doing the thing anyway. It’s showing up when you want to run, believing that God is with you.”
His words fill the darkness, settle over the silence like a thick, heavy blanket.
A beat passes and Conrad sighs, slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Hang in there, Kane. I’ve been where you’re standing. But sometimes faith takes a leap.” He holds up a fist. “See you at Sammy’s.”
I tap it. He gets out, his words still caught in the clouded breath, lingering.
God is with you.
Hardly. God left the day I buried my mother.
I turn on the defrost, the windshield clears, and I pull out.
Not toward Sammy’s. And not toward home. No…Somewhere between the Xcel Center in St. Paul and my downtown Minneapolis penthouse, I end up on Chloe’s street.
I didn’t plan it. At least, I tell myself I didn’t.
Her apartment building is in the Crocus Hill neighborhood, an older area with tall trees and historic homes converted into rentals. It’s a classic St. Paul structure—red brick with white trim, probably built in the 1920s. Second-floor unit on the right side. Lights on in the windows, warm yellow against the winter darkness.
I park down the street, under a massive oak tree. I sit there, engine purring. I should go home. Get some sleep. Review the contract properly. Call Rick back. But I keep looking at her front door…willing her to text me, ask me if I’m up. I know it’s crazy—she’s the last person I should want to talk to about the contract—but what I wouldn’t give right now to talk it out with her, with someone who doesn’t see me as just Candy Kane…or who didn’t.
Maybe she does now.
I let out a heavy breath. I shouldn’t be here.
You have her number. You could text her.
