Page 42

Is she alone?

A protective pang that I can’t pinpoint has me standing.

In a hurry, I stalk toward her, stopping myself within a few feet.

It’s broad daylight. She’s fine.

Instead of getting into a dick-hardening brawl with her like I’m craving, I do something I’ve hardly ever cared to do with a woman before.

I pay attention.

I step back until I’m behind a few herds of people, keeping my eyes on her. She stops at the nearest coffee shop, and I wait until she leaves to follow in her footsteps.

When I make it to the counter, the eclectic-looking woman behind it eyes me like she’s hungry.

“Well, hello. What can I get for you?”

“The beautiful woman who just walked out, the one with green eyes and grey sweats, what was her order?”

Her wide stare softens as she smirks.

“Uh, let me check.” She flips through the pinned receipts on the counter until she finds Fia’s.

“A matcha latte with oat milk and strawberry puree.”

Pulling out my phone, I open my notes app and start a note titled: things she loves.

“Is that what you wanted to order too?” the barista asks with a clear of her throat, shifting my focus.

“Yeah, uh, sure. That’s fine.”

I keep my eyes on the door as I pay the tab, searching for her in a sea of people, but it’s no use. I’ve lost her.

“Damn it.” I huff to myself, taking a sip from the green drink, hating the taste, but drinking it because she loves it.

My stroll slows when I pass a souvenir shop. Unsure if I’ll run into her, I take my chances, stepping inside the shop full of Chicago merch.

As I pass through the isles, I can’t help but smile at the tradition I unintentionally started between she and I. In Dallas, I’d needed a way to pass the time, and when I saw the heart-shaped keychain at the hotel gift shop, all I thought about was her.

“Anything I can help you find, sir?”

An older gentleman smiles from behind the counter.

“Just looking, thanks.”

“Got some new keychains here. If you’re looking for a gift, can’t ever go wrong with a keychain.”

With a gentle smile, I spin the display, sifting through the selection of Chicago-branded keychains until I land on one that says everything I’m feeling.

I love Chicago.

CHAPTER 12

FIA

“Okay, guys, let’s run it one more time,” Haven shouts over the speaker. “This time, I want to see Fia on center.”

Rooted to my spot toward the back, my body feels struck by lightning as I process her request.