I am a firm believer that if I could freeze time... life would just get worse. We can already freeze moments in our own mind. Imagine if those moments... The worst moments of our lives could be frozen, zoomed in on, expanded to the size of a room. It would just shatter your heart over and over for hours until you could no longer bleed or feel.
Sure, if you could freeze moments, you could freeze the good ones and just look at those, but most of usâwell maybe just me, I would be tempted to stare at the bad. And that would make life torture.
Why would you want to risk freezing a moment and tattoo it into your mind with far more detail when those details could come to haunt you at night, right before you fall asleep, demanding to be relived like a never-ending slideshow?
I could feel one of those moments forming, burning into my mind. Pausing just long enough for me to memorize Tate's face as he stared at his phone.
My heart stuttered and died as I watched him try to wrap his head around the image.
The photographer never wanted the image to go online at all... It was never going to be viral for the entire world to see, was it? It was taken just for him. Because being blindsided in the privacy of his own phone was so much more intrusive. It was so much worse. It hit so much harder.
And I had never warned him. Never told him what happened. And now he had gotten the picture before I had a chance to say a word. My arms were wrapped fiercely around Laurence's neck, our lips locked, his hands pulling me closer. There was no denying it. There was no escaping it. I had kissed Laurence Royal back, and it was spilled out all over Tate's phone screen.
No...
We both stared at the picture in my dark room, side by side on my bed, a strong and painful silence stretching.
The stretching pulled tighter, ripping at the scene that we had lived moments before, tainting our flirtations.
Tighter, tainting my request for him to stay the night with me.
Tighter, tainting my hopes that things may get better.
"I thought you hated Laurence Royal?" Tate asked in the dark, the phone glow vanishing, leaving me without a guide into what was going on in his mind.
"I do," I insisted far too loudly. It sounded like a lie. And maybe I didn't hate his guts, but I had zero desire to kiss him, even if the image said otherwise.
I thought it was you... my heart screamed.
"That doesn't look like hate..." Tate said quietly.
I thought it was you... my heart screamed again, urging me to speak it into words.
"But I know images can be deceiving..." Tate added, after a pause. "I just..." Tate ran his hands through his hair, fingers catching the moonlight that slipped through my closed blinds.
I thought it was you... my heart continued to scream over and over.
"Tate..." I turned on the bedside lamp, desperate to see his face.
He stood up, taking several steps away from the bed, away from me. "I need a minute."
"Okay," I said quietly, keeping an avalanche of panicked words back.
The minute he had requested was painful to watch. The look on his face changed, transforming from confusion, to hurt, to frustration, to anger, back to hurt, and teetering towards heartbreak. I wanted to say something, but I had promised him a moment and I needed to honor that. But that didn't stop my heart from screaming as I watched him think about the image over and over like his own personal torture slide show.
He shook his head, seeming unsatisfied with his own request for a single minute. "I just... I'm going to go."
The air left the room.
"Tate. Hold on," I called, scrambling out of bed as Tate walked out of my room.
He walked towards the door, speaking with this back to me. "I am too sleep-deprived to trust my own words right now. I don't want to say anything I'll regret... so just... give me time okay." He picked up his backpack and opened the door.
"Hey, Tate..." I called.
He paused for a moment, his back to me, hand on the doorknob.
Everything inside of me wanted to stop him. To keep him from walking out the door, terrified that if he did, I wouldn't see him again. The realization was jarring. I had never felt such a strong desire to fight to keep someone close. To fight for someone to stay. It was a new and strong thing. A wild force of nature that took up space inside like an anchor keeping the rest of me from spiraling. I felt sure, strong, certain even as the rest of me wanted to block his exit.
But I knew that forcing him to stay would make things worse. Would make him blurt out raw, unfiltered feelings that we would both regret. Just because he needs time doesn't mean he is leaving forever.
"I am not going anywhere," I said, voice wavering slightly. "So... I'll be here when you're ready." It didn't feel like enough. There was so much more I wanted to say. But he needed space, not confessions or explanations.
Trust him, Allie.
So I did. And Tate didn't say another word as he walked out the door, my heart breaking as he did, the pain from my collar a numb dull thing compared to the hole in my chest where my heart used to be.
Because the moment he walked out the door, my heart followed after and there was no getting it back.
...
Holidays were not the most wonderful time of year in my book. Delle more times than not worked through the season, emerging just long enough to hand me and Misty very thoughtful, but very unwrapped gifts before jumping back into the grind. While Misty spent the entire season with friends, playing video games, napping, and reading every book she could get her hand on.
It hadn't been a season that we really acknowledged since my parents passed, and doing nothing had become our new normal. So being surrounded by lights, songs, trees, and thousands of people all in a panic to make the season special left me feeling more isolated.
It wasn't even Thanksgiving yet and the holiday season had thrown up all over the world of advertising, insisting people needed something that was fake magical or their entire experience would be garbage. It left me feeling like a Grinch. And as was the classic choice, romance was one of the biggest ways people advertised their products.
This meant that the "couple outfits" I had designed, had become a popular holiday look, forcing me back into the office even as paparazzi screamed for answers I didn't have as I walked into Winters, wanting more details of the nightmare that had been the night before.
"Allie?" Laliana called on the other end of the phone for what must have been the third time.
"Yeah?" I replied, snapping back to the conversation as I stared down at the mockups of the "couple outfits" using pictures of Tate and me snuggling on the couch. I laid on his chest smiling down at him mischievously, his cheeks pink as he looked up at me.
I had rejected the idea when my advertising team had first pitched it earlier today. It felt wrong to use images of Tate when things were such a jumble of messy feelings. But if I had been able to take the pictures with my original models, I would be using this look for the holiday season anyway.
"Were you listening?" Laliana asked, forcing me to crawl out of my own thoughts and focus.
"Yes," I replied defensively. Shifting around several pieces of paper, I found my phone and set it on top of the pictures, giving Laliana's phone call my attention.
"You said something about..." I wracked my brain for a vague and convincing response but came up blank. "Crap. I wasn't listening," I admitted. "Sorry." I had been a bundle of fog since the night before. Falling in and out of sleep until five in the morning, at which point I got dressed, and drove to work, only to get bombarded by the early morning paparazzi birds... well, vultures.
"I just invited you to get food." Her voice on speakerphone filled the room with a bubbly tone.
I shook my head. "I don't have time for lunch today. I have to get the holiday mockups out by five." And then not look at any of my own billboards and advertisements when I come across them in the wild until this season is over.
"Wait, you're at work? You got stabbed last night!" she scolded.
"And the stabber wants to take me down. Working is a good middle finger to their face," I muttered. "I don't stop for anyone. No punk with a knife is going to keep me from chasing what I want."
I could hear her smile on the other end of the phone. Always a beacon of sunshine. "I admire your lack of fear. If you could bottle it, I would be your first customer. Seriously. I cried when someone tried to stab me."
"Oh, I did too," I clarified. "Nothing wrong with crying. It's human and necessary. And I am afraid. I just don't want to give the other crazies out there any ideas. If I stop, that makes them think they'll win. And that's laughable. Ain't nobody got time for that!"
Laliana laughed, but quickly cleared her throat, pretending to still be irritated."Allie. You should be at home."
"I thought I should be at lunch?" I teased.
"I just asked you to have dinner, not lunch. Wow. You really were zoned out."
I ignored her observation. "What time?"
"Can you do six?" she asked, voice squeaking strangely.
"Six?" I repeated slowly, trying not to sound half distracted as I organized the designs on my desk. I crossed out one of Susan's designs that sported a hat and wrote in giant red letters, stop designing hats!
Then something clicked in my brain. Laliana's voice sounded off.
"Yes..." Laliana said slowly as if trying to compensate for the strange squeak in her voice earlier. "Why do you sound so suspicious?" she asked, laughing WAY too loud to be normal.
I bit my lip, a habit I hadn't been able to kick lately. "Because I get the feeling you are up to something." Paranoia and Laliana's inability to lie left me reluctant to say yes to any plans she had cooked up today. "Why do you sound so weird?"
"It's just food at my house!" Laliana exclaimed, exasperated. "Why are you being weird?!?"
She would make the worst bad guy ever. "You are the one being weird," I replied calmly. "Why are you yelling?"
"I am soâ" she cleared her throat. "Not yelling at all," she finished in a whisper. "I'll pick you up at six then."
"I'll just meet you there."
"Nope!" she said with determination. "I'll pick you up."
"This place is crawling with vultures. You don't want to get within three blocks of this place."
"Oh, I totally do. It will be fun. They aren't... that bad."
What? Why is she lying?
"Laliana, whatâ"
"I can't hear you! Going through a tunnel. See you soon bye!!!!" Then she quickly hung up, killing my protests.
I stared down at the ended phone call, confused. What is wrong with Laliana today?
...
The paparazzi were still outside when six o'clock came around. But when a car pulled up and four men in black suits got out carving an easy path between the vultures and reaching the front door of my building with ease, a part of me understood Laliana's humor.
She walked, surrounded by her walls of suits with an easy, victorious smile, pulling my front door open as I reached it.
"Hi, Allie!" she said looping her arm through mine after I had locked the front door.
"What is all this?" I asked curiously.
"A precaution. Hashtag 'Season Girls' is the most trending thing on the internet this week!"
"Season Girls?"
"Our hashtag!" Laliana said playfully, hip bumping me as we moved towards a sleek black limo. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to walk out of my office building without having to sprint. The four suits blocked out most of the paparazzi's camera flashes and the suits glares seemed to keep the paparazzi's shouts to somewhat sane levels.
We climbed into the back seat and the door shut after us, blocking out the noise. Then the four suits took their places, two in the front seat and two sitting across from us in the back.
A blond suit held out his hand towards me as the car started moving. "Phone."
I raised a brow. "That's a weird name."
Laliana snorted. "No, he wants your phone."
"And I want a jet. Go buy one pal," I replied dryly.
Laliana bit her lip to stop her giggles. After a moment she clarified. "No. He wants to check it for bugs, tracking devices, etc."
I blinked. "What?!?"
"Standard protocol. You've gotten attacked several times," Blond Suit replied emotionless.
"This isn't a spy show. I don't think my phoneâ"
"Allie." Laliana gave me a serious look.
"Aiden is being ridiculous," I muttered.
She shook her head. "All me this time. You've been playing this weird attacker's game on his or her terms. It's time to figure this out. Now please hand Day your phone."
My mouth fell open, but I handed my phone over without protest. Blond Suit or Day as apparently he was called began to pull my phone apart, checking every part of it before putting it back together with quick and precise ease. Then he held my phone up to my face, unlocked it, and went through my data to make sure there was no unusual activity from any foreign devices.
"Wow... you guys are serious," I said into the silence, wishing I had declined Laliana's offer to get dinner.
"A little." Day handed me back my phone. "No bugs."
"Thank you, Day," Laliana said with a bright smile.
"My pleasure Ms. Summers."
"What is going on." I snapped, irritated over their pleasant tone while hijacking my phone. "This isn't some spy movie."
Laliana turned to smile at me. "Okay, sorry for all the weirdness and secrecy. But I wasn't sure if anyone was listening when I called earlier."
"So you show up with your own FBI team just to check my phone? Laliana, that's insane!"
She snorted. "No, the boys are here to make sure no one follows us. I don't want anyone to know where we are going. The phone was just a precaution."
I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to keep a headache away. "Unless you live at the Avengers compound and you are trying to keep the Marvel fans away, I don't see the point of the extra security."
"We aren't going to my house."
"Okay... So where?" I was starting to wonder how hard it would be to get them to stop the car and let me out. But something told me Laliana would flat out refuse.
I really should have just stayed at my office...
"We are going to Katherin Dalton's house."
"As in Aiden's mom's house?" I shook my head. "No, no, no, no. Pass on that terrible idea."
"It's a great idea!"
"No, it's not! And unless you want Aiden to kill me for putting his mom in dangerâ"
"It was his idea," Laliana insisted.
"So you are willingly taking me to my execution while Katherine caters the event?"
"You are so dramatic, but no."
"Okay, now I am really confused."
She smiled widely. "You have a detective for a sister. I have an ex-secret service agent for a fiancé. I think it's time we actually put their skills to use."
"But..." I couldn't wrap my head around Aiden and Delle sitting at the same table, working together! It had to be a joke of some kind. "Why at Katherine's house?" I didn't want her or Iz anywhere near my mess.
Laliana gave me a sheepish expression. "Because it's Thanksgiving week, and Katherine insisted on feeding you, and this was the only way I could think to get you there. This way, Katherine gets to make sure you have food for Thanksgiving, and you get help in catching your villain. Win-win!"
I groaned, slinking down in the seat. A detective and a bodyguard who hate each other are going to be trapped in the same room, while a guy who asked for space from me is now going to be stuck with me while we all share a Thanksgiving meal while we discuss potential attempted murder suspects? Yeah, this is going to be a disaster...
---
Thank you for reading chapter forty-three! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
It's family dinner time! How will things go? Will Aiden behave himself?
Will Delle and Aiden fight?
Will Aiden and Allie finally get along?
Will Tate be there?
How is Iz doing?
Do you think he did the right thing by asking for some space?
What will happen next?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Do you enjoy family dinners? Or are they super awkward, or a bit of both?