33. Countdown

33

H alfway down the stairs, I spotted Chance, looking absolutely debonair in his suit. A lazy grin on his face, he only had eyes for me. And despite the stares I knew I was getting from the curious partygoers, Amanda was right: he was the only thing that mattered. For me, Chance was the only other person in the room.

He made his way through the crowd to meet us at the bottom of the stairs. It was only at the last step that I realized he was flanked by another handsome man, who promptly swept Amanda off her feet, twirling her around, and conveniently drawing the attention from us, allowing Chance and me to blend into the crowd of dancing pairs.

A string quartet played classical versions of pop songs that sounded vaguely familiar, but none that I could remember the lyrics for. Chance splayed his palm at the base of my spine, the heat of him searing through even the thickness of the velvet fabric. He used the other to draw one of my hands up, to trap it between us. I wrapped my free arm around his waist as we gently swayed to the beat, following the movement of those around us.

"You looked stunning before, but seeing you…" Chance drew back from me, making a show of looking at me from head to toe. "You take my breath away." He pulled me into him again.

"Thank you," I told him.

"It was Amanda's idea," he answered.

I glared up at him, not believing for a moment he wasn't at least partially responsible for my makeover.

"She asked what you were wearing, and I told her about how hot you look in your little black cocktail dress. I thought you would have been fine, but she assured me she could find something you'd like better." Chance's eyes twinkled as he smiled down at me. "I hope you like it better."

"I do, but I wasn't thanking you for the dress," I told him. I narrowed my gaze as he met my eyes. "Your heart was in the right place, Chance, but you know I cannot accept it."

His eyes flitted to the necklace at the hollow of my throat.

"Would you really deny my dead grandmother her dying wish?" He feigned hurt.

"Cut it out. Don't put the wishes of the dead on me. I can't go around wearing diamonds this big," I hissed under my breath.

"It's only two carats." He seemed genuinely confused by my refusal.

"Two!?" I sputtered.

He pulled me even closer. "It was rotting in a box at the bank. I wanted you to have it," Chance pleaded.

"I—" He seemed so genuinely hopeful. I wanted to tell him he had to put it back, but the words would not leave my mouth.

"What if I lose it?"

Chance leaned in and kissed my temple. "Don't worry, it's insured. But you won't lose it. It'll be alright."

"Chance…"

"It's okay. I can hang on to it for you. If you change your mind."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked away. How had I found myself so far gone that I could no longer refuse him, despite feeling itchy at the thought of the necklace? I hated that I couldn't just accept the gift. All I could think about was how much it was worth.

"I—It's okay," I mumbled. "I love it, I just…"

"I know." Chance craned his head down, resting his cheek against the side of my head. "I didn't quite think that through. My grandma died when me and Amanda were really young, but she left all her jewelry to Amanda, mostly to piss off my relatives, I think. From what I could tell, she was a very feisty woman and never let anyone tell her what to do. I think there are old articles about her in Page Six . She caused several scandals my aunts and uncles still bring up from time to time.

"After Thanksgiving, I found myself thinking of you, as I so often do, alone in my bedroom." Chance laughed darkly. "It occurred to me that she would have really loved you. And I think she would have thought we made a wonderful pair. So I asked Amanda if she wouldn't mind giving me the simple and modest necklace, for you."

We continued to sway to the music. I still felt many eyes on us, but Chance and I had somehow created our own little bubble that was only minutely penetrated by the sound of the string instruments.

Upon hearing his story, I decided it would not only be impolite to return the necklace, but rather impossible, given the thoughtfulness of the gesture, and the meaning behind the gift, as well as the involvement of his sister, who I already knew I adored.

"But if you don't want it—"

"I want it." I stared up at him petulantly.

Chance smirked down at me. "Oh little muse, if you had any idea what you do to me when you look at me like that."

My cheeks heated at the implication.

Chance glanced over my shoulder, his body going rigid.

I turned in his arms to see what had caused such a tense reaction, only to recognize a tall older gentleman, who was the spitting image of Chance, although his features were distinctly colder, striding toward us: his father.

Immediately my protective instincts took over. That man had traumatized Chance and had made him feel less than for his entire life. I didn't want Chance to have to interact with him if he didn't want to, and clearly his body language was screaming that he wanted to be anywhere other than under the gaze of his father.

On top of all that, I wasn't sure how I'd react to meeting the infamous Thomas Roberts. I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold back from telling him what I really thought of him and his treatment of Chance growing up. What if I blurted out that he didn't deserve to have such a kind, thoughtful and creative son, who shaped his own destiny, in spite of what he had been put through? I didn't trust that I could play the polite, obedient, and charming girlfriend.

Girlfriend!?

"Let's get some air," I said quickly.

Chance's body was tense as he escorted me off the dance floor, through the areas where servers were working, and toward the back of the house, where he ushered me into a glass atrium, lit with dozens of strings of fairy lights. It was like something out of a movie.

The buzz of the crowd and the faint music of the string instruments could just barely be heard through the open door. Chance's father, it seemed, had not followed us.

Although the atrium was enclosed, the lack of insulation still left the room much more frigid in the winter cold. Without having to say a word, Chance removed his suit coat and slung it around my shoulders, before leading me to a comfortable padded bench facing toward the darkness of the backyard. Even with the string lights, I could just make out the constellations dotting the skies on such a clear night.

"Do you think the dress is okay?" I asked, still needing reassurance that I hadn't made a fool out of myself and him as a result.

Chance held my hand as I tucked the dress under me to sit without tripping over the skit.

His eyes widened at the question. "Okay?" He chuckled.

I followed him as he sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around me to pull me into his side. "I didn't think it was possible that I'd like looking at you in anything more than those skin-tight cat burglar pants of yours, but you've outdone yourself tonight."

"You mean Amanda outdid herself," I corrected him.

He narrowed his gaze at me. "No. This dress is all you. Black and dark, but soft to the touch." Chance ran his fingertip along the hem resting just below my collarbone. "My muse, always wanting to hide in the darkness and pretending you aren't as tenderhearted as I know you to be."

Chance leaned his cheek against the top of my head. "I think that's why I was so drawn to photographing you. It was in the moments when you thought nobody was watching that I began to see the real you. The one you don't just hide from everyone else, but the one you try to hide from yourself. The Violet who cares about others. The Violet who cares what others think of her—hating that their opinions matter so much, but not sure how to get out of your head to move beyond the need to please them."

I flinched at his unfortunately accurate assessment.

"I know, sweetheart." He ran his hand up and down my shoulder. "I won't tell anyone."

It'll be our secret.

How was it that despite what both of us had been through in our lives, how our parents had failed us so spectacularly, that we had still managed to find each other? It occurred to me then that it was rather miraculous, in fact. And we'd both fought, in our own ways, for each other.

It felt inevitable in some way, that our paths were always meant to cross, that Chance and I were always meant to form a connection, that we needed each other to fill in the gaps that the other lacked. There was a certainty…a finality in how far we had come.

"There's something I've been meaning to mention to you," Chance said cautiously.

My heart fluttered. If he was about to say what I thought he was about to say, I wasn't sure I was ready—I didn't know if I could say it back.

I glanced up at him. His blue-grey eyes met mine, in turmoil. Inside, the party guests began to chant, counting down together, toward the new year.

Ten.

"I think we need to stop looking into Daniel's disappearance."

Nine.

My mouth popped open. That wasn't what I had been expecting. "What?" I squawked.

Eight.

"I just think it's time."

Seven.

"Bullshit." I reeled back. Where on earth was this coming from? "Tell me why. The real reason," I demanded, glaring at him.

Six.

We had set off on this path, and I intended to follow through. We had made such progress, and sure we were in a bit of a lull, but things could turn around at any moment. It wasn't like Chance to quit like this—not so suddenly. There had to be a reason.

Five.

Chance sighed, his shoulders falling, knowing he had no other option but to tell me the truth. "Daniel is gone," he said mournfully. "But you are still here. I can't lose you too."

Four.

"Why would you lose me?" I shook my head.

Three.

"What the detective said—he's right. We're in over our heads. If anything happened to you, I could never forgive myself." He paused. "I would never get over you. You are the only thing that matters to me."

Two.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. His declarations sat low and heavy in my body, transforming me into a new version of myself. A Violet that didn't want to be in the dark, if it meant I wasn't by his side, even if he stood in the light.

I tried to push the doubt away—I shouldn't have needed confirmation again, but I needed it, one last time. "Why would you put me over him? He's your family." I turned toward the open doorway, gesturing to the house. "What could I possibly have to offer someone like you?"

One.

"Everything," Chance growled, growing angry. "You are everything , Violet. Everything I've ever wanted and everything I'll ever need. You call me on my shit, you back me up, even when you don't want or mean to. You don't judge me for who I want to be, and you like me for exactly who I am today." He took both my hands in his, his eyes boring into mine, so I would finally get the point, as he ground out, "You. Are. Everything."

Happy New Year!

I pulled at him, my lips crashing into his, desperate and needy to feel his skin against mine.

He had it so wrong.

He was everything.

Nobody had ever sacrificed for me the way Chance had. The fact that he was willing to abandon the search for Daniel made my chest ache with longing for him. I hadn't realized a gesture of that magnitude would be what was required to bring down the remnants of the walls around my heart.

Chance had put me first, when nobody had ever done that before. I was besotted with him.

I couldn't get close enough to him on that stupid, narrow bench. Understanding my need, Chance pulled back. "Upstairs?" he panted.

I could only nod, my lips already swollen from his bruising kiss.