Page 95 of Chasing Home
People you love are supposed to make you want to be the best version of yourself, right? I think that’s what this is.
I snap my eyes open. What the fuck? Love?
Blinking, I shove that to the back of my mind. The very, very, very back. Right now, that’s the last thing I need to be thinking about. I’m too damn emotional to be contemplating things like that.
“Should we do this?” I ask, peeling myself away from him.
I don’t go too far. I can’t seem to take another step back, and it has nothing to do with staying beneath the umbrella.
His eyes drift across my face before he nods, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. I glance down at the hold, finding that I love the sight of our hands like this.
“Say the word at any time, and I’ll get you out of there,” he promises.
“I know you will.”
The apartment building is bougie enough to have its own set of security waiting beside a nose-in-the-air receptionist who scowls at the two of us when we walk in. I should have killed her with kindness, maybe a blindingly fake smile and wave, but Johnny swoops in before I have to.
With our hands still interlocked, he rests our umbrella against one of the main windows and tugs me along to the desk. Once we get close, he sweeps his eyes over the contents of the desk. “Good mornin’! Don’t you look radiant today despite the terrible weather.”
Radiant? I want to smack him upside the head for complimenting her but also laugh at how obviously he’s trying to win her favour.
The receptionist blinks twice at him before smiling slightly and tucking a brown curl behind her ear. “Good morning. The storm came out of nowhere, but hopefully, it won’t stay around for long.”
“You didn’t walk to work today, did you? We were going to walk, but after taking our new puppy out this morning and needing an emergency bath afterward, we chose against it this time,” he replies, looking back at me quickly, just long enough for the woman’s eyes to follow.
She takes me in with a frown, all of her previous pep washed away like the trash in the gutters outside.
Johnny pushes forward, undeterred. “You don’t happen to know if there’s a dog park nearby, do you? We’re here to meet a friend today, but we’ve been contemplating buying in the building for a few months now. Our goldendoodle is just five months old but such a sweetie.”
Goldendoodle? Dog park? I stifle my confusion behind a half-smile.
She looks at the picture on the desk before lifting her eyes back to him, and I take the opportunity to steal a glance at the two security guards watching us from beside the elevators. They’re the second line of defense after this woman. If we get past her in the first place.
“You have a goldendoodle? So do I! Mine is six months, and holy, they’re a handful. I don’t live in the area, but there is a park about four blocks away that I’ve ventured to a handful of times. It’s one of the less crowded ones and has a separate gated area for the smaller dogs,” she gushes, eyes wide and nearly fucking sparkling as she stares up at him.
“Fantastic! We’ll have to check it out,” Johnny says, those damn dimples of his popping as he tries to sway her further.
With a squeeze of my hand, he reminds me that this is his attempt at gaining us access upstairs, not anything more than that. I already knew that, but I still appreciate the clarity. Even if I’m still feeling incredibly jealous that she’s the recipient of his dimpled smile.
“Who are you here to see today? I’ll buzz you up, and hopefully, by the time you’re done, the rain will have stopped. A bit of sunshine would be nice today.”
Johnny leans one arm on the desk and turns his grin up a notch, confidence damn near leaking from every pore in his skin.
“Riley Rose, apartment 3503. We were just out for dinner last night with his daughter, Wanda, but Riley couldn’t make it and insisted we stop by today. It’s been a long time since we got the chance to make a trip in from Mississauga.”
The woman stops cold, eyes narrowing at the corners when they swing to me. Every second that she stares, I feel my neck grow hotter, sweat appearing at a too-quick pace. I can’t keep up my fake smile, letting it drop under the weight of her disbelief. It’s like every person in here knows who I am and wants to kick my ass out.
Johnny’s grip on my hand grows tighter, and I’m not sure if it’s out of support or if my palm is just so sweaty he can feel it slipping.
“I’ll need to call upstairs and get approval before buzzing you in,” she says, her tone flat. “What are your names?”
“Sure,” Johnny agrees. “Johnny Mitchell and Aurora Bennett.”
The two security guards have moved closer in the time we’ve been here, and one mutters something with a hand pressed to his ear. I’m prepared for the worst, my knowledge of how things work when it comes to celebrities lacking but not nothing. If these two men don’t work directly for Lee and his team, then they’re in contact with those who are. They’ve reported everything we’ve done and said since we’ve been down here to the people upstairs.
The receptionist lifts the landline on the desk and presses a series of numbers on the pad before lifting it to her ear. I turn away and tune out her words. With my back to everyone, I take a long inhale.
Johnny turns with me, ditching my hand to touch my back instead. He creates another barrier between me and them by shifting at my side. Despite how often I told myself that I was content on my own and only needed myself to be happy, it feels the complete opposite right now.