“You’re in love with him.”
“What?” I ask.
“You, with Camden,” he says, setting his drink on the bar top. “It wasn’t fake for you either.”
My stomach lurches, the gravity behind his statement hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“He told y—” The words cut short before leaving my mouth, another realization slamming into me right after the first. And this one? Well, it damn near leaves me breathless.
“What do you mean ‘fake for meeither’?” I ask slowly.
The muscle in Oakley’s jaw jumps a couple times, tensionradiating from him in waves. Andfuckif it doesn’s set me on edge. Because if the wordeitheris any indication, then I’ve been missing a massive piece to the puzzle of how this all fell apart.
Desperation claws at my chest, digging into my flesh like talons, and I’m two seconds away from grabbing my brother by the collar and demanding an answer.
“Oakley, I swear—”
“Answer me first,” he states calmly. “Are you in love with him?”
I gawk at him, frustrated as hell by how casual he’s being. But then I shake my head and finally admit to just how pathetic I am.
“Yeah, I am. Fucking still, okay?”
“JesusChrist.”
The curse comes out under his breath, only for him to run his fingers through his perfectly styled hair. His tongue pokes at his cheek while he searches the room, as if something or someone within these walls holds the answer for whatever unspoken question he’s asking himself, before returning to me.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved with this, but I can’t just sit here and watch you two make a huge mistake. Not if his feelings weren’t one-sided.”
The tiniest speck of hope blooms in my chest as I whisper, “Oak, what are you—”
“He thinks you wanted to be with Lexi, Loge,” he cuts in, his imploring gaze rooting me in place. “He thought you were in love with her the whole time you were dating or faking it or whatever the fuck it was. He overheard you on the phone with Bailey, saying something about not knowing what to do or who to choose. But it wasn’t fake to him, so he ended it before he could get hurt worse.”
I blink a few times, struggling to process what he’s said, let alone the gravity of it. And when I finally do, I’m only left with more questions than answers. They all jumble in my head,forming knots I can’t seem to work my way through, especially with all the emotions clouding them.
I want to be mad at Camden for not saying something the day he overheard me and Bailey. And, boy, do I wanna be pissed at Oakley for not telling me this sooner. But I can’t, because I don’t have a leg to stand on.
And truthfully, I don’t have the time to be angry right now.
Because most of all, that tiny speck of hope has blossomed inside my chest, spreading like vines and ivy until it’s a goddamn garden. One I want to live in forever, if it’s not too good to be true.
“I’ll be back,” I tell my brother, my feet already carrying me away.
I’m out of the restaurant and down the hall in a flash, my dress shoes clicking on the tile floor as I move toward the main lobby. I don’t know if Camden is staying here or if he just drove in for the evening, but either way, I’m praying like hell I’m not too late. That he isn’t gone.
That he hasn’t already escaped, once again, without a trace.
But I come skidding to a halt when I hit the foyer as a thought comes crashing into my mind. One about escaping while in a place like this, and rather than continuing out to the valet desk, I rush past the front desk in the direction of the ballroom.
And more importantly, the terrace.
A vibration courses through my veins as I draw nearer, the same way magnets quake just before they snap together, and it’s a feeling that only intensifies when I actually spot him through the glass doors.
The sight of him staring out over the terrace ledge, the Chicago skyline glowing in the sunset as colors bounce off the lake, is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
It has my hand shaking as I grab the handle and push open the door.
I can tell the moment he hears me as I approach, his back becoming slightly more rigid beneath the smooth lines of his suit, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. It’s not until I’ve stopped beside him, silently taking in the view, that he speaks.
