I slid my hand up her back, fingers tracing the outline of her curves. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Oh yeah?”
“I stop spinning when I’m with you. You become my focus. I can just…be.”
Her smile softened. She leaned into me, stroking the side of my neck. “See?” she whispered. “This is what I mean. You say what’s on your mind, and it pulls me in even deeper.”
“My evil plan.”
Her head fell on my shoulder. “Soevil.”
I held her tighter, letting the weight of the day dissolve as we drove through the city. The tension in my shoulders eased with each block we passed. The ache behind my eyes dimmed. The knot in my gut—the one that had been growing all day after talking to Sam—finally unfurled.
This was what peace felt like. Not silence or stillness or escape.
Her.
My beautiful blue.
Chapter Thirty-one
Bea
Ittookafewdays, but things finally clicked once I’d confirmed Tore was the man in the limo. The mysterious billionaire who’d been haunting me on the streets of Denver the last two years.
He wasAnthony.
I’d been so sure I’d spotted theAt Your Serviceapp on his phone last weekend, but had talked myself out of it. There were a zillion apps and plenty had similar logos.
But then I found him idling outside my favorite coffee shop in his limo and everything fell into place. The app was connected to a GPS. It knew my location. If Torewasthe app, it made perfect sense he’d been able to find me in random places over the years.
Just to look at me.
A brief peek through his window before driving away.
I bit down on my lip as my stomach fluttered. Not with nerves. Something else. Something light and airy. It flitted to my chest and throat, making me feel like I was in danger of floating away.
It had to be him. The only way he’d have an app that hadn’t even launched to the public was if it was his. My mind filed back to the exact moment I was invited to beta it. Three months after Tore ghosted me.
Yes. Tore was definitelyAnthony.
I’d been thinking about it all evening. Every wayAnthonyhad been there for me over the past two years.
Most recently, delivery soup when I’d been sick. That wasn’t the first time he’d taken care of me. He’d sent tissues and cold medicine once. Another time, a thermometer when I mentioned I didn’t have one.
He did the little things too: reminding me to go grocery shopping, return library books before they were overdue, answering every question under the sun. He’d offered advice that, in hindsight, had been far more personal and perceptive than any AI had business being. When I was down or stressed, he sent calming music. Breathing techniques. Gentle reminders to rest.
On a professional level, Anthony had helped me with my business.A lot. I’d adjusted my rates after he’d sent me an article on fair pay in the catering industry. He’d been like my personal secretary, compiling reviews from past clients, helping me build polished email templates. He’d given me contact information for office managers and told me about upcoming events that might need catering.
A wave of realization hit me so hard, I had to sit down on the corner of my bed.
I was in my house because ofhim.
I’d told him all about the shitty apartment I’d lived in. After yet another sleepless night of listening to my neighbors scream at each other through the paper-thin walls, I’d had to vent, and Anthony had been there. Two weeks later, he’d sent me the ad for the house-sitting gig. A week after that, I’d moved in. I’d assumed it was luck. The universe finally looking out for me.
Holy mother of lizards.
I should have felt violated. Any normal person would’ve.
