She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 155

(Natasha)

Chase drives us home.

I let him because I feel emotionally wrung out.

I’ve waited so damn long for him to remember me. I honestly didn’t think it would ever happen.

Chase has been talking non-stop since we left Shell Cove.

About the kiosk, which he was delighted to discover is still selling the same hot chocolate he remembers being terrible.

About the rocks.

About a yellow swimsuit he’s convinced I had, which I can’t confirm or deny because I don’t remember what I wore when I was nine.

About the shell.

He keeps coming back to the shell.

I make the right noises.

I laugh when he does the bit about the watery hot chocolate.

I don’t have the energy to do better than that, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He’s buoyant in a way I haven’t seen him be in any context, and his joy is filling the car.

I look out at the Pacific trying not to remember his hesitant confession.

That he thinks he was attracted to Sonia because she’s small and blond and when he first saw her on a different beach, in the sunlight, she reminded him of me.

I shut the door on it.

It opens again two minutes later somewhere around Carlsbad.

Chase is telling me about the sand under his fingers and how it had triggered the whole memory, and the door opens, and the thought walks back in and sits down.

He fell for Sonia because some part of him fondly remembered the girl on the beach.

And now he’s remembered the girl on the beach, and the girl on the beach is me.

And the way he’s looking at me at red lights is the look of a man who’s finally found what he’s been looking for since he was eleven.

The same thing he was looking for when he found Sonia.

"You've gone quiet."

"I'm tired. The sun got me."

"You want me to pull over at a rest stop to pick up some cold water?"

"I'm fine. Let’s get Lily home. She needs a bath."

He glances across with a smile and puts his hand on the gearstick, letting it sit there, palm up, the way he did on the blanket.

Something keeps me from reaching across and taking it.

He notices and doesn’t say anything, moving his hand to the wheel.

I look out at the road.

I’ve spent years wanting Chase Warren to see me.

Not the CFO he ended up with after one night at the office.

Me.

Today, at the beach, I thought he’d finally seen me.

I’m the original he mistook Sonia for.

I should be flattered.

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