seven
Twyla
For the next week, I don’t run into Chase once. Not by the mailboxes, not entering or exiting the building, nor in the elevator. I’m not sure if that’s by his design or just a coincidence, but I’m oddly disappointed every time I step into the hallway or the lobby and he’s not there.
So, by 5:25 the evening of the gala, my nerves are shot. Chase said he didn’t mind taking me, but it’s hard not to feel like a pitiful little girl whose brother set her up—especially since it’s not even a real date. The idea of someone spending time with me because they feel obligated, not because they want to… well, let’s just say I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how long my ex-fiancé wanted to bail on our engagement before he finally said something.
But I decide not to focus on the negativit
