Twenty
Miriam was torn between eating or drinking her feelings.
She opened the freezer and eyed a pint of salted caramel ice cream, then closed it and opened the fridge to consider the bottle of prosecco sitting on the top shelf. Prosecco was for celebrating, and she sure as hell didn’t feel like doing that, so ice cream it was.
Her phone flashed again—she’d turned off the ringer—and warily she peeked at the screen. “Unknown numbers” had been calling over the last couple of days. She’d ignored them thinking they were sales calls, but after the fifteenth one she’d begun to suspect they had to do with the current surge of blogs written about her and the mayor of Dallas.
Luckily, this number she recognized. Kristine.
“Kris, hi.” Miriam dug a spoon out of the drawer and tossed the lid of the ice cream container into the sink. No need for a bowl tonight. She was bottoming this baby out. “What’s new?”
“You mean besides multiple calls from strangers asking me about you and Chase?”
“Ugh. I’m sorry.” Heavily, Miriam sat on a kitchen chair.
“You warned me. I’m telling them nothing.”
“Thanks, Kris.” It’d been two days since Nancy had suggested Miriam take a leave of absence. Word had traveled fast—and not just to her fifteen-year-old admirer Darren. One of the heads of MCS was uncomfortable with the news breaking about her “affair with a mayor.” It was an ugly way to paint it, but technically it was true. Nancy worked out a paid leave, but to Miriam, being asked to leave still felt unfair.
“Are you okay otherwise?” Kris asked.
“Other than my phone ringing off the hook with questions about the mayor of Dallas?” She turned her head to the kitchen window. “At least there aren’t reporters camped out in my apartment complex.”
“It’ll blow over, I’m sure. When’s the election?”
“A year and a half from now,” Miriam announced glumly. Then she blinked when a blur of movement caught her eye. Chase was walking up the sidewalk, head down, collar on his dark coat pulled up. “I have to go. He’s here.”
“He’s there? Meems—”
“I’ll call you later.” She hung up, no time to talk about how she felt about Chase while he was rapidly approaching her doorway. She slid across her linoleum on slipper socks en route to the living room to check her reflection in the mirror above the couch.
She quickly arranged her hair and checked her teeth, but there wasn’t any time to change her clothes. He’d have to see her in a pair of gray leggings and an oversize blue sweatshirt.
The knock came and her eyes sank shut. This was it. And she really wasn’t ready to see him again.
She yanked open the door and pasted on a smile. “Chase.”
“Hi.” His shoulders were wedged under his ears, his face red from the walk through the cold.
“Come in.” She stepped back and let him in, wondering how a billionaire would view her tiny apartment. If he’d judge her rattling refrigerator or her hand-me-down kitchen table and chairs.
“I called.”
She closed the door, noting how much space Chase took up in her itty-bitty kitchen. He dominated the area with his height and his piney scent. She admired how handsome he was with a touch of pain in her chest, his eyes gray against his charcoal wool coat and dark stylishly messy hair.
God. She’d missed him. She hadn’t missed him for years, and now two days of being away from him had left a hole in her chest.
If she’d had time on the phone with Kris, Miriam would have admitted she’d partaken of the forbidden fruit and slept with him, but she also would’ve stated that her only interest in him now revolved around handling the political situation. With him standing in front of her looking strong and like someone she’d like to hold and kiss—and strip naked—Miriam’s heart lurched. He wasn’t so easily categorized in person.
“Is your phone off?” He was looking around the room and spotted her pint of ice cream on the table. He canted his head. “Are you all right?”
“I’m on a leave of absence.”
“I know. I tried your work first. Nancy answered her phone.” His mouth lifted in a teasing tilt.
“I turned my ringer off. It rings constantly.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”