Catch Read Online Deborah Bladon

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I run a brush through my hair.

I’ve always had curly hair. I despised it when I was a teenager, but as I got older, I started to embrace it.

I love it now.

After applying moisturizer to my face, I set my ass down on the corner of my bed.

When I reach for my phone, I’m surprised to see a missed called from Royce Knott.

I debate whether or not I should listen to the voicemail message. I’m happy working with Keats. It feels as though we’re building a strong team. I may not be chasing my dream of a career in public relations, but this is the next best thing.

All of my experience and insight is helping me be the best assistant I can to Keats.

I finally tap the voicemail message icon to listen.

“Maren? Jesus. I am so sorry about what happened to you. I need to see you. Name the time and place. I want to make this right.”

The message ends with me staring at my phone.

I play it again.

The voice belongs to Royce Knott, but I’ve never heard compassion in his tone before.

I don’t like leaving anything unfinished, so I press the button to call his number.

Chapter 54

Keats

One moment the world can be in the palm of your hand, and the next second, it can turn around and slap you across the face leaving you senseless.

That’s what I feel now.

I’m staring into a diner looking at the woman I love in the arms of another man. I saw a flash of red hair as I turned the corner. I knew it was Maren. That shot of need inside of me told me that. I tried to catch up, but she disappeared into the diner before I could reach her.

I don’t know who the fuck the guy is that Maren is hugging.

She’s supposed to be at my townhouse getting ready for the dinner tonight. Instead, she’s clutching onto a tall guy with blond hair who looks like he wants to make her every dream come true.

I know regret when I see it on a man’s face.

It’s there on mine when I wake up every morning.

I used women for years to bury my feelings. I didn’t care enough about them to remember their names or what they liked in bed.

When they called the next day, I’d answer with an excuse about being busy.

I was a coward.

I’m not a coward anymore.

I move toward the door of the diner because I’m not going down without a fight. I love Maren. I know she loves me.

I feel it.

Whoever the man is that she’s clinging to, he needs to get in line behind me, because I already gave my heart to Maren, and I don’t want it back.

Just as I’m about to reach for the door handle, my phone rings.

I curse under my breath even though no one around me will fine me for swearing.

I tug my phone out of my pocket.

Earl Newman’s name lights up the screen of my phone.

I silence it because he needs to wait.

I hold the door open for a woman with a stroller. She struggles to maneuver the wheels through the narrow entryway, so I help out. I take over the handle and guide it through all while the small brown-haired baby inside keeps napping.

“Thank you.” She turns to me. “Most men in this city wouldn’t help my son and me out.”

“Most men in this city are assholes,” I quip.

She drops her gaze to the diamond ring nestled next to a wedding band on her hand. “My husband, Griffin, doesn’t qualify. You don’t either. I hope Ellis grows up to be a gentleman too.”

“It sounds like he has a great role model in your husband.” I look down at the little boy. “Cute name, by the way.”

“It’s my maiden name.” She smiles. “I won’t keep you, but thank you again.”

I force a smile as she makes her way toward an empty table.

The ringing of my phone drops my gaze down to the screen again.

I answer as I watch Maren walk toward the washroom leaving the guy in the gray suit alone.

“Earl,” I say his name. “How are you?”

His answer sets me back a step. I fumble to grab hold of the wall, but I’m left grasping at air.

As I stumble out of the diner and onto the sun-soaked sidewalk, my world goes dark.

“I’ll be there,” I tell him solemnly. “I’m on my way.”

***

Four hours later, I feel like I’ve been in the ring with a prizefighter.

I’m sitting at a bar on Madison Avenue, relying on my common sense to dictate how much alcohol I’ll pour down my throat tonight.

So far, the scotch is winning.

I’m on my third.

I lost everything in a matter of a few hours.

Maren met up with some chump in a cheap suit at a diner.

Before that, she apparently had coffee with her friends while she was sitting at a table next to a friend of Patrika Newman.


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