Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(72)

“Was I interrupting? You ladies looked like you were discussing something intense.”

“Were you interrupting something?” Daisy answers with an arch look. “That’s such an interesting question. Olivia here was just telling us about this pen pal she had and how they met when he bought her typewriter. A Remington.”

He stiffens at her words, his head jerking back.

I turn to Daisy.

I don’t want Chase to get the wrong idea and think I’m still hung up on Remington. I mean, I am, a little. I miss him with an ache in my heart and an emptiness in the parts of my life that used to be filled by him. The texts in the morning and the texts before bed and all of those in-between moments in my day. But that’s over, at least for now.

Daisy wanted me to leave my online friendship behind, so why is she bringing it up now, and to Chase, of all people?

I look up at Chase. For a brief moment, I think I see panic in his eyes before his expression shutters.

He takes a deep breath. “Let’s go,” he murmurs before pinning Daisy with an intense look.

“Have a nice run,” Daisy calls after us. “We’ll talk later, Chase.”





CHAPTER 27





Chase



“When were you going to tell me?” Daisy bursts into my cottage later that afternoon, startling me as I stand in front of my refrigerator, debating which nutritionist-approved, premade dinner to choose, salmon or plain chicken breast.

“Nice of you to knock.” I turn to her, resigned to my fate.

It took Daisy longer to confront me than I thought it would. But that might have been because I was hiding out in my cottage all day, like the coward I am.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daisy repeats.

I can’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“We’ll talk. Do you want a drink?” I sure as hell do.

I pull out a cold beer and offer it to her. She grimaces. I shrug and open it for myself.

When we’re both sitting at my wooden table, I take a long swig, fortifying myself.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Olivia? The typewriter and the letters, that you were ‘Remington’?” she says, using air quotes.

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Except it does, Chase. I bought that typewriter and gave it to you. When Olivia finds out, she’s going to think I knew this whole time.”

She stares at me, at my eyes that keep sliding away, and then her eyes get big.

“You weren’t going to tell her, were you?” She snorts in disgust. “Guys are such idiots. So tell me, big brother, what is your grand plan here?”

I run my hand through my hair and squeeze the back of my neck. “I never planned any of this, Daisy. I made a mistake visiting her in San Francisco and setting all this in motion, but she stopped texting me and I was worried. I just want to keep her from being hurt, and if I tell her, it will hurt her.”

“And if you tell her, you won’t be able to go back to being Remington again once the stalker and tabloids are under control,” she says slowly. “That’s your plan, isn’t it? You’re just going to wait this out and then go back to being Remington as if none of this has happened.”

“I can’t see another way,” I admit.

“Or you could take a chance on love for once. Actually connect with someone, rather than pushing them away.”

“It’s not about love,” I say. “Whether she knows it or not, she’s my best friend. I want her happy and safe, and the best way to do that is to let her go.”

She shakes her head. “You have to tell her, Chase. Or I will. It’s not right or healthy what you’re doing. She deserves to know the truth. And regardless, you can’t go back as if none of this has happened. You won’t be able to forget this all. Nothing will be the same.”

Fuck. I close my eyes and know that she’s right. I can’t go back to Remington. After being with Olivia in real life, anything else would be a pale approximation.

And once she knows I’ve been playing this double life, she’s going to hate me, with good reason.

It’s been wrong to lie to her for so long. I’ve been so caught up in being around her. So unhinged at being able to spend time with her, that I didn’t just deceive her, I deceived me. There’s only one way this can end. And that’s badly. It’s not rational. But then again, I haven’t been rational since she sent me that text and her photo, telling me how she felt. I’ve barely been able to breathe.

I don’t know what the hell to do about any of it. How can I go back to life pre-Olivia, pre-Typewriter Girl? I have to figure it out, though. Olivia will eventually return to her peaceful life. And I can’t follow her there and drag the tabloids and trolls into her safe world.

I will tell her, to hell with the consequences, I promise myself. But I need more time with her before she inevitably hates me. And I need more time to keep her safe.

“I’ll tell her,” I vow to Daisy. “But not just yet.”

“When, then?” Daisy says.

“When the threat to her life is gone. If she finds out now, she might be angry enough to leave, and she’s safer here with me than she would be on her own in San Francisco.” I look at Daisy with pleading eyes. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her.” My voice cracks with emotion. “Please.”