“Who checked in?” he asks, walking toward me. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and I feel the sizzle of his touch all the way down to my toes.
“Hudson called this morning to tell me he’s got surveillance documenting who comes on and off the island. Then Asher called and asked me a thousand questions.” Ilift a brow. “And after that, I had visits from Autumn, Skyler, Francie, and Eden.”
He winces. “I told them not to come.”
“They meant well,” I say. “But this is so over the top. Darien isn’t exactly a criminal mastermind.”
His mouth twitches. “Do you have your bags packed?” he asks. Because last night I only took one change of clothes to his apartment. He called me earlier to suggest I stay with him until the gala at least.
And I agreed. Because, hello, hot guy. Who wouldn’t want an extended sleepover with Zach Fitzgerald?
“Yep. They’re upstairs. I’ll grab them.” I turn to run up the stairs but I feel him behind me. Close enough for my skin to warm up.
“I can carry my own bags,” I point out, as he follows me into my living room.
“You can, but you won’t,” he says, taking the handles of my two suitcases.
“And really, I’m fine here. Nothing’s going to happen to me. Liberty is pretty safe.”
He lets out a breath, like he doesn’t want to think about what could happen if that weren’t true. “I’m sure whoever he stole from felt they were safe too,” Zach says. “But things can go wrong. And if they do, I’ll be there.” He looks around the small living room that’s somehow become my home. “Is this everything?”
“Yep,” I say, then I frown. “Wait, let me just…” I walk into the bedroom to grab my favorite pillow, and I look at the woman on the wall staring back at me.
I walk over, running my fingers over the frame, thinking about how I’m not waiting anymore.
I’m living life. Even if living life means staying at Zach’s because he’s worried about my ex.
“Need some help?” Zach asks, making me jump. He’s already halfway into the room, hands in his pockets, gaze landing on the painting like he’s trying to place it.
“Is that for the gallery?” he asks, nodding his head at the canvas. “Or did you steal it from the Art Trail?”
I smile as I glance at it, then back at him. “Neither. It’s mine.” I look at her expression, the way she yearns. I can understand that feeling now. “Actually, I bought it at a yard sale with Darien. I kind of gave it to him.” I wrinkle my nose. “And I guess I stole it from him when I left.”
Zach blinks, like he’s trying – and failing – to understand.
“To remember him by?” he asks.
“Definitely not. I just loved it. From the moment I saw it.” I frown. “She reminded me of me, I guess. Waiting for life. Being afraid.”
“Yeah, well you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
There’s that shot of warmth again. I remind myself he’s just being kind. Like the rest of his family. Not to start relying on this, on him.
But my heart puts its fingers in its ears and starts to ‘lalala’.
“I think this is what Darien wants back from me,” I say, remembering his words from yesterday.
He walks over to stand next to me, studying it more closely now, his nose practically on the canvas. “I don’t recognize the signature. Could be worth a little money though. When you’re desperate, that’s everything.” He runs his thumb over his jaw, then looks at me. “Can I take a photo of it? I’ll send it to Larry and ask him to look into it.”
“Larry?” I ask.
He laughs softly. “He works for me. Runs the gallery I own in Chicago. We do a little investigative worksometimes. When a piece is stolen, or when a client wants something very specific, we try to track it down.”
“Like Batman with art?” I say.
“Less altruistic than that. We do it for money.” He pulls his phone out, takes a few shots, then some close ups.
I look at her, the woman who’s been by my side all this time. Accompanying me to the island, over the water. Taking the journey that she never took in real life.
