“I guess so,” he said, turning toward the parking lot. “Good night, Delilah.”

  She beamed and then waved at him. “See you Monday.”

  He climbed into his car and drove home, his chest numb. He readied for bed and then sat at his desk, remembering how Isabella had shoved the Skittles in his mouth, falling on top of him. He stared at his phone. He missed her.

  Five? Are you there?

  He waited two minutes for a response, but nothing came.

  Five? Answer me.

  The cold silence stretched out before him. He tried once more.

  Please answer. I’m sorry. I need you.

  He waited another ten minutes before giving up, tossing his phone on his nightstand. He climbed into bed and closed his eyes. Unfortunately, sleep didn’t come for a long time.

  Isabella’s stomach clenched as they pulled up to her house. Savannah waved at her from the car window. “Call me tomorrow.”

  “I will,” Isabella promised.

  She steeled herself for a huge lecture—and possibly worse—before opening the door. Elenore stood in the living room, steely black eyes staring right at her. Isabella had no excuses. She’d left the gallery, and Elenore knew it. Nothing would ward off her punishment, so she stayed silent.

  “Where were you?” Elenore said, her voice icy.

  Isabella stared back. Nothing she could say would help. She pressed her lips together.

  “Answer me!”

  Delilah came in the living room, her dress swooshing. She stopped dead, assessing the situation. “What happened?”

  Elenore walked around Isabella, her arms folded across her chest. “Isabella left the gala. Left me stranded. Made me look like a fool.”

  Delilah’s face shone with glee. “Ooh, you’re in big trouble.”

  Elenore held out her hand. “Your phone. Now.”

  Isabella balked. She’d never gotten around to taking Chase’s name out of her phone. Would Elenore find it in there? She hesitated, and Elenore grabbed her arm.

  “Now!”

  Elenore squeezed, and pain shot up Isabella’s arm. She cried out.

  “Give me your phone.”

  Isabella blinked back tears as she fished the phone out of her clutch. Elenore snatched it and let go of her arm. “Girls who sneak away during important events do not get the privilege of having their own cell phones.”

  Delilah’s face held a smug smile. Isabella clamped her mouth shut and refused to give them any more ammunition against her.

  Elenore held the phone up high. “This is now mine.”

  Just then, her phone vibrated, a soft sound that sent terror through Isabella.

  Elenore narrowed her eyes and peered at the screen. Then her cheeks reddened. “Chase Hawkins is texting you?”

  “What?” Delilah yelled, wild fury in her eyes. “What?”

  “Why is he calling you Five?”

  Delilah turned to her, squinting, her teeth clenched together. “You?”

  There was a pause when time slowed for a moment, and Isabella could see things happening in slow motion. Delilah pulled back her hand. Elenore stared at her, a look of horror on her face. Her phone vibrated again.

  And then full motion returned, and Delilah’s hand slapped against Isabella’s cheek, hard. Isabella reeled back from the slap, her hands clutching her stinging cheek.

  “You went to the dance. With Chase.” Delilah came at her again, but this time Isabella was ready. She ducked, and Delilah’s own swing knocked her off-balance. Delilah teetered for a moment then fell to her knees.

  “Stop.” Elenore’s cold voice rang out, and Isabella froze.

  Elenore backed Isabella up to the wall, her face just inches from hers. “You stole your sister’s date to the dance?”

  Delilah scrambled to her feet as best she could in her silver monstrosity of a dress. “Yes! She did. She went with Chase. But with a wig on. He doesn’t know who she really is.”

  Elenore took a step back. “What?”

  Delilah pointed a long, bony finger at Isabella. “He called her Five. He said he didn’t know her real name.”

  “Really?” Elenore’s voice dripped with glee. “Well, isn’t that interesting?” She stared for a moment at the cell phone in her hand. “He’s been texting you on here?”

  Isabella didn’t answer.

  “Intriguing.” Elenore scrolled through the texts, and Isabella’s face heated. Elenore frowned, then opened her hand. The cell phone clattered to the hardwood floor. She looked at it, then stepped on it with the heel of her boot, cracking the screen.

  “No!” Isabella shouted.

  Elenore put more weight on her heel, and the screen shattered. Bits of cell phone guts flew out as she ground her heel. “There. I think that takes care of that.”

  The look of pure delight on Delilah’s face made Isabella’s stomach turn. Elenore pointed to the destroyed cell phone. “Clean this up. Then get to bed. You have to start work early tomorrow. I need the gallery cleaned. It’s a mess.”

  Elenore and Delilah stalked out of the room. Isabella stared at her broken phone. She could no longer contact Chase.

  Chase woke Sunday morning and checked his phone. No messages from Five. He sent her a few more pleas to message him back, with no response. He waited all morning. A horrible feeling took over as his phone sat silent.

  He spent the day brooding in his room, beating himself up for trying to lift her mask. He went over the dance in his mind a million times, thinking of how it could have ended differently. How he could have come out the hero of the night.

  He told his mother he wasn’t feeling well and skipped family dinner at the table. He ate stale potato chips and stared up at his bedroom ceiling. Finally, around eight o’clock, he wandered into the kitchen looking for something more to eat. He poured himself a bowl of cereal, unable to find anything else.

  His mother came in and started scrubbing the dinner dishes. She glanced over at him. “You okay? What happened at the dance last night?”

  Chase grabbed a fistful of hair and stared down at the table. “I messed up. My date hates me now.”

  His mother raised an eyebrow. “Did you apologize?”

  “Yes. A lot. She’s not texting me back.”

  His mother set the washcloth down and pulled out the chair beside him. “Sometimes apologies have to be made in person.”

  Chase pushed his cereal around the bowl with his spoon, no longer hungry. If only that would work. Isabella would freak out if he showed up at the gallery and spilled his guts.

  His mother patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget your values. Be honest with her. She’ll come around.”

  Honest. That was where he messed up, wasn’t it? If he had been honest with himself, he would have told Isabella he was starting to like her. And when he found out who Five was, he should have told Isabella he had deeper feelings for her. He stared at his mother.

  “Thanks. I think you helped.”

  She grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  He picked up his bowl and put it in the sink. “I’m going to go apologize in person,” he said as he walked to his room. If he was going to fix this situation, it would have to be done face-to-face. His mother was right. Honesty. No more pretending. He had to go to Isabella.

  And he most likely knew where she’d be.

  “Be back by eleven.” His mother gave him a look.

  “Sure.” He threw on a jacket and left the house. The drive to the gallery didn’t take as long as he thought. Relief poured over him when he saw the lights in the back still on. He got out of his car and knocked on the glass door.

  Isabella let him in, her eyes wide with surprise. “Chase? What are you doing here?”

  Words failed him. He knew he needed to be honest. But how could he reveal his feelings and not send her running? He cleared his throat to give him time to think. Then he said the first thing that popped into his head.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  That was honest, right?

  He looked down at the rag in her hand. “Want some help?”

  “You want to clean the bathroom with me?”

  “Sure.”

  She shot him a skeptical look but stepped aside anyway. He took the rag from her as they walked into the back of the gallery.

  “What have you been up to?”

  “Cleaning up this place. It was a total mess after the gala event.”

  She looked tired. He picked up the Clorox spray bottle on the back of the toilet and went to work on the tile. “You’ve been here all day?”

  “Yeah.”

  The strong smell made his eyes water. “You almost done?”

  “Just about. We sold a painting today, so I have to do a little computer work before I can go.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face and pushed up her glasses.

  “Want some music while we work?” He pulled out his phone.

  “Sure,” she said, eyeballing him.

  He was pretty sure it wouldn’t be a good idea to just come out and tell her he knew she was Five, but if he led her to it slowly, that might work. He pulled up The Beatles song “Yesterday” and hoped she’d get the hint that he was sorry for what happened last night.

  He set his phone down on the sink and continued to scrub the floors. Isabella stared at him as the song started, but when he didn’t look at her, she went back to wiping the mirror.

  He sang softly along with the song, but couldn’t help but get louder as the chorus played. She looked back at him with surprise. “You can sing. I mean, you have a great voice.”

  “Singing lessons. My mom thought it would make me a more marketable actor.” He shrugged at her and gave her a smile.

  The smell of bleach was starting to get to him and he stood up. “Is this good enough?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed the cleaning bottles and took the rag back. “They go in the back cabinet.”

  He washed his hands, then picked up his phone and followed her to the back room. When she turned, he noticed more bruises on her arm. Anger tightened his throat. He stepped in front of her.

  “Was your stepmother upset at you last night?”

  She peered up at him, her eyes widening a little. “Why do you ask?”

  Pointing to her arm, he said, “She hurt you again.”

  Isabella glanced down, her cheeks reddening. “Yes.”

  Unable to stop himself, Chase pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the forehead. Guilt for everything that happened last night overwhelmed him. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” she whispered.

  He held her tighter. “For not being there for you. For putting you in the position I did.” He paused for a few moments, hoping she’d understand. When she didn’t say anything else, he said, “For making it difficult for you to trust me.”

  Her breath hitched, and she stiffened. He rubbed her back, desperate to show her he cared for her, Isabella—not just Five.

  Finally, she spoke. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, not letting her go. “I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t mean to break my promise. I never meant to hurt you.”

  She was silent for a moment. “How long have you known?”

  “A week.”

  She pulled back from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to run away from me.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I was trying to tell you last night, but it didn’t work.”

  “I thought you’d be . . .” She swallowed, her gaze landing on the floor. “I thought you’d be disappointed when you found out.”

  He leaned over and gave her the lightest of kisses. “I was anything but disappointed.” He kissed her again, longer this time. After he pulled back, he admitted, “I was starting to have feelings for both of you.” He brushed the pad of his thumb along her jawline. “Imagine how happy I was to find out I could like you both without it being complicated.”

  “This is anything but simple.”

  “True. And if you like Paul instead . . .”

  Isabella burst out laughing. “Paul wasn’t really Paul. I liked you from the beginning. Which was really funny when you were jealous of yourself.”

  Chase was so relieved by this, he pulled her in for another long kiss. “Then you’ll be my girlfriend?”

  Her eyebrows knit together, and she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Chapter 24

  Isabella’s chest tightened, and she pulled away from Chase. “We can’t have a relationship.”

  “Why not?”

  “My stepmother . . . Delilah. I don’t know what they’d do to me.” She blinked, unable to hold back the wave of emotion crashing through her.

  Chase liked her. And not just as Five, the mystery girl. He liked Isabella.

  Her spirits soared, despite the circumstances.

  “We can keep it a secret. They don’t have to know.” He took a step toward her, taking her hand in his.

  “She’ll find out.” She lowered her gaze. “She saw your texts last night. My phone . . . she crushed it.”

  Tingles ran through her as he squeezed her hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

  The thought was tempting. Sneaking away to see Chase on a personal level. She could easily talk herself into that. But it wasn’t very smart. “Even having you here right now is risky. If Elenore came in . . .”

  “I won’t come to the gallery anymore. We can meet somewhere else.”

  She bit her bottom lip, wondering if she were crazy to seriously consider it. They could be careful not to be seen together at school or the gallery. “Maybe that would work.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, the warmth of his chest making her heart pound. “It has to work. Because I’m falling for you, Isabella. And I need you in my life.”

  She closed her eyes, and for the first time she allowed herself to think that maybe she could have her Prince Charming.

  Isabella approached Flatwater Park, but there was no sign of Chase at their usual meeting spot. She pried up the loose brick and found a note. She unfolded it. In his slanted scrawl she’d come to love, it said: “I’ll be a few minutes late. Please wait for me. Love, Chase.”

  She looked around, stuffed the note in her jacket pocket, then sat on the bench to wait. They’d been meeting for two weeks, in secret, after dark. When she saw his shadowy figure approaching, her heart pounded in her chest. She ran to him, and he pulled her in for a hug.

  “Thanks for waiting.”

  They sat down on the bench, and she snuggled her back into his chest. He put his arms around her and lightly caressed her arm. They chatted for a few moments, then sat in silence, just enjoying being together.

  Chase kissed her temple. “You told me your father was an artist. What did he do?”

  “He was a painter. He grew famous for his technique of painting with his fingers. He taught it to me.”

  Chase shifted to look at her face. “You don’t use a brush?”

  “No. There’s something more organic about applying the paint directly with your fingers. It makes me feel at one with the art.” She felt a blush creep up her neck. “That’s stupid, huh?”

  “No,” he reassured her. “Not at all. That’s cool.” He pulled her back to his chest. “What about your mother?”

  “She was a dancer.” Isabella pulled out the worn photograph she kept in her pocket. “This is her senior photo. Her name was Emma.”

  Chase took the picture and looked at it. “She was beautiful. You have her eyes.”

  Emotion surged in Isabella, and tears blurred her vision. “Really?”

  He handed her back the photo. “Definitely.”

  Isabella touched the picture. “This is all I have left of her, besides the painting of her my father did that’s locked up in the attic. Elenore threw everything else out.”

  “How cruel.”

  Isabella couldn’t say anything; her throat was too tight.

  “How’s your art going?” Chase’s low voice was close to her ear.

  “I wish I still had my phone. I would have taken a picture of the latest one. It’s my favorite yet.”

  “Tell me about it.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand, sending goose bumps over her skin.

  “It’s a meadow of wildflowers, a stormy sky above.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I wish I could see it.”

  She looked up at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I love your art.”

  She sat up. “Wanna come see it now?”

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re asking me if I want to sneak into your bedroom with you?”

  She whacked him on the arm. “Just to see the painting, creep.”

  He chuckled. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  They walked to her house, her nerves sending butterflies into overdrive. This would be the first time she’d shared one of her paintings with a guy she liked. At least, the first time in person. She showed him where to climb to get to her balcony. After they were both up, Chase put his arm around her shoulders.

  “This is a great view.”

  “My father was a little concerned about living on the edge of a cliff, but I wanted this house, so he bought it.”

  “Sounds like a sweet guy.”

  She nodded, suddenly emotional. She slid open the sliding-glass door and led him into her room.

  “Wow, this is huge.”

  “My father let me have the master bedroom.”

  Chase walked to her wall, where the paintings were lined up. He pointed to the wildflower one. “That’s fantastic. Why doesn’t your stepmother sell these in the gallery? They’d bring in a lot of money.”

  “She keeps saying I’m almost there. That I need to improve a little more before they are ready. I think it’s one more way for her to torture me.”

  Isabella tried not to get emotional. Elenore wasn’t worth it.

  “You’re more than there. You’re brilliant.” He flipped through more paintings. “You could sell these for more than a thousand each.”

  Even though Chase wasn’t an expert in the art world, she appreciated the sentiment and warmed from the compliment.

  He looked through her paintings, whistling when he came to one he particularly liked. When he was done, he took her hands.

 

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