Page 40 of Don’t Open Your Eyes

“We love it, but Westport is great too. If you’re a golfer, you get access to Longshore, which is fabulous.” She didn’t want him living too close to her, and she definitely didn’t want him to join their country club. She’d be seeing him enough at the office.

“I am a golfer. I’d heard about that, and the pool is great for the wife and kids.”

Did he really just say “the wife and kids”?

“How old are your children?”

“Five and three. Girls. I’d like to have a son, but Gina wants to wait a bit. I don’t agree. My philosophy is to get it all over with at once. Sure, it’s a little crazy when they’re small, but then we’ll still be young enough when they’re eighteen and out of the house.”

Was he for real? “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to carry the child for nine months and have your body go through all kinds of changes.”

“Gina has easy pregnancies. And it’s not like she has to work or anything. She’s home full time. Sometimes I’d love to trade places with her.”

Annabelle fought with every fiber of her being to find the restraint not to tell him what a complete asshole he was, but what was the point? “Good luck with that.”

She picked up her glass to take a sip and looked up when the front door opened and a man walked toward their table. She watched in shock as he reached them. The glass slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. The man standing in front of her was the man from her dreams.

The Wife

I’ve searched everywhere, but I can’t find the key to his desk. He must have it with him. Frustrated, I turn on his desktop computer and am relieved there is no password protection. Of course, he could be keeping his secrets on his work laptop. I go to his email and look through it, but don’t see anything suspicious. Next, I check his Google history, but it’s empty. He’s cleared it. I navigate to Amazon and check the order history. Bingo! He’s forgotten to delete it. A book on sailing. Strange since we don’t have a boat, and he’s never expressed an interest. It was mailed to his office instead of the house. He must be learning about it as another way to connect with her. Does he have some warped fantasy that he’s going to run off into the sunset with her?

Annabelle

“Are you okay?” the man asked, looking confused.

Annabelle did her best to recover. “I’m so sorry. I lost my grip on the glass.” Someone came over and started clearing the area. She put a hand out. “Annabelle Reynolds. You must be Chase.”

He shook her hand, and she felt herself blush as she looked into his eyes. This was a disaster. Her insides felt like jelly. What the hell is happening to me?

“Chase, please sit down,” Riggs said, shooting Annabelle an annoyed look.

Annabelle felt like she was outside her body watching as they ordered lunch, discussed strategy, and outlined the next steps. She had to get off this account. There was no way she could work with this man.

“Annabelle and I were discussing your website and your socials. How would you feel about including pictures from your home life?”

Chase leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. My podcast draws people from all walks of life. I like to protect my privacy—especially for my family. It’s the reason I do my podcasts under ‘Chase Storm’ instead of ‘Sommers.’ I get my share of death threats. I like to keep my professional and personal life separate.”

“That’s terrible. Must be frightening,” Annabelle said.

“Comes with the territory. When you cover serial killers and murder cases, it’s bound to rub some people the wrong way. Most of the time it’s only people making noise, but I can’t put my wife and son in jeopardy.”

“If we do our jobs right, you’re only going to get more popular. And if we get Hollywood interest, it will be difficult to keep you anonymous,” Riggs said.

Chase laughed. “Hollywood? Let’s burn that bridge when we get to it.”

When their lunch finally ended, they all stood and shook hands again. As Annabelle’s hand went into Chase’s, the memory of her dream exploded in her mind. It was almost as if she were back on that beach running toward the surf with him.

“We’ll be in touch soon. Thank you so much for entrusting your business to us. We’ll get something set up for early next week in our offices,” Riggs said.

Fortunately, Riggs hadn’t noticed her discomfort. She didn’t know how she had gotten through the lunch without revealing her distress. How was she going to get out of this, she wondered, thinking up excuses as they walked.

“Annabelle, I asked you a question.”

“Huh?” She looked over at Riggs.

“What’s up with you? First, you dropped your glass for no reason, and then you kept spacing out through lunch. Is everything all right at home? You seem like you’re a thousand miles away.”

Okay, so he had noticed. “I’m sorry. My oldest daughter is having some problems at school. I’m a bit distracted. Maybe you should reassign the client.”