Page 53 of Wish For Me

“Yes, actually. I do.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“What tracks?”

“I bake bread to relax when I can’t sleep. You go for chocolatey, sugary monstrosities.”

“They’re not monstrosities. They’re—”

But I don’t get to finish my sentence because the elevator chooses that moment to shudder, and then stop. We both go still, staring at each other.

“We’re not moving,” I say stupidly.

“No. We’re not.” He turns back to the panel and presses the lobby button. Nothing happens. He presses it again. Still nothing. When he raises his finger again, I curse.

“Just keep pressing it, Peter, I’m sure it’s going to work eventually.”

He glares at me over his shoulder. “What else should I be doing?”

“Isn’t there an emergency button? Move.” I try to push my way in front of the panel but he doesn’t budge. “Move.”

“Do you have to fight with me about everything?” He snaps. “I can press the damn emergency button, Vega.”

“Then do it!” I sound hysterical, but I can’t help it. It’s just starting to hit me what’s happening here. I’m stuck in an elevator in the middle of the night. With Peter fucking Dumont.

It feels like a long time after he presses the emergency button before a tinny voice comes across the speaker, identifying themselves as the elevator monitoring service. She tells Peter to try the open door button. Nothing. She has him press a random floor button. Still nothing.

“We’ll send someone out to assess the situation,” she says. “Please stay calm and know that you’re perfectly safe.”

I kind of want to burst into tears. I certainly don’t feel perfectly safe. “How long are we going to be stuck here?” I ask, hearing the hysteria rising in my voice.

“We’ll work as quickly as possible.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a polite way of saying she has no idea,” I tell Peter once the emergency monitor ends the call.

“Shit,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead. “I guess we should just get comfortable.”

“Get comfortable? There’s no getting comfortable here, Peter. We’re stuck in an elevator!”

“I’m very aware.”

“Oh my god,” I say, my breathing coming faster and faster. “What if they can’t get us out for hours? What if I miss the wedding?”

“You’re not going to miss the wedding.”

I think about my texts with CeCe, what she said about Everly caring more about spending time with me today than getting the perfect cake. All of the girls are supposed to be getting ready together. What if I miss that? What if I miss her putting on the dress?

Suddenly Peter is standing in front of me, his big hands curling around my shoulders. He crouches down so we’re eye-to-eye. “You need to breathe, Vega. Just breathe.”

I try to do what he says, but it’s hard to get the air in. And now my head is spinning and the panic is really setting in.

“Here.” He takes my hand and places it in the center of his chest. “Feel that?” His chest moves up and down below my fingers in a steady rhythm. “Try to match my breathing. In and out.” I start to close my eyes and he gives my hand a little shake. “Look at me. Breathe.”

I stare into green eyes that are way more familiar than I’d like to admit and concentrate on the movement of his chest. “In and out,” he repeats. “Just like that. Good.”

It feels like ages before my heart stops racing but eventually Peter nods. “Much better. Let’s sit.”

He guides me to my knees and it’s only then I realize his hands are on my waist. The feeling is not entirely unwelcome—which should freak me the hell out. Instead, I find myself leaning in towards him, trying to get closer to his warmth.