Taken: A Kept Novella (14 page)

“Stop it. I want you to go see her.”

“This is dumb, Sara. I don’t even know where she is or what—”

She held out her hand. A business card rested in her palm.

Mike stared at the card. She had to be kidding. “No.”

“Take it, Mike.”

He couldn’t.

A moment later it was in his hands.
Meghan Connor Designs
. He read the raised lettering, his heart thudding inside him. This couldn’t be.

“She’s half an hour from you, Mike. From either home.”

Half an hour.

“She’s an interior designer. Another teacher recommended her when we looked into hiring someone. I hear she’s good.”

“She’s very good.”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Well.”

Half an hour away? They’d been in Texas when they’d divorced, and she’d vanished so fast. He’d been traded to Chicago just over a year ago, fresh off another break-up, Meg on his mind.

For the last year she’d been half an hour away.

“I’ll get into O’Hare around six tonight. By the time you get back to Chicago on Sunday, I’ll be out of your place.” Sara picked up her things as she talked—a perfume bottle, her iPad, her flat iron, and makeup bag. She shoved them one after another into her carry-on, the first sign that this hurt. “I’ll mail you my keys. You’ll get them next week.”

Always on top of things. Always ready for anything. “Where will you go?”

“I guess I—” She stopped her stuffing and froze over the bag. Her ponytail slid over her shoulder and covered his view of her face.

He studied Meg’s business card.

A moment later she sniffed and zipped her bag closed.

Mike looked up.

She was wiping her nose.

She jabbed a finger at him. “You go see her. You find out if there’s anything left there. You hear me?”

“Sure.” Not likely.

“And after all that, if there’s nothing left between you two—” Three quick steps, and she was in his arms.

He held her while she shook against him.

But just as quickly, it was over and she pushed herself back. “If it ever really ends between you two, then you call me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

It wouldn’t happen. Sara was already his past. There was no going back.

He looked beyond her at the picture lying on the bed. Not even Meg would take him back.

Sally Bradley has been a fiction lover for as long as she can remember—and has been fascinated by all things Chicago (except for the crime, politics, and traffic) for almost as long. A Chicagoan since age five, she now lives in the Kansas City area with her pastor/cop husband and their three children, but she and her family get back to Chicago when they can for good pizza and a White Sox game. A freelance editor and former president of her local writing chapter, Sally has won a handful of awards for her first book,
Kept,
and another, soon-to-be-released
Shelf Life
. Visit her online at
sallybradley.com
.