“Oh,” I said again. For a writer, my ability to find the right words was distressingly low. “Well, that makes sense, but you didn’t have to tell me all of that.” I’m so glad you did. “It doesn’t matter.”
If I say it enough times, it’ll be true. “Kai and I aren’t…we’re not together anymore. Obviously.”
Because I always fuck up the good things in my life.
I rummaged through my makeup bag, searching for nothing in particular. The adrenaline of running into Clarissa faded, and a crushing pressure returned to my chest.
She and Kai weren’t on a date, but that didn’t erase the reasons why we couldn’t be together. It just meant I had more time before he started dating someone else for real.
“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have gotten so upset when I called him boring,” Clarissa said gently. She snapped her bag closed and faced me head-on. “You still care about him.”
“I never said I didn’t. That’s not why…” I trailed off, distracted by the flash of white around her wrist. It was a necklace wrapped up to be a bracelet, and it looked wildly out of place with her elegant outfit. It was also made of something suspiciously familiar.
Puka shells.
A memory from Christmasbirthdaynewyearpalooza slammed into me.
Where’s your necklace?
I, uh, lost it.
Clarissa was the director of artist relations at the Saxon Gallery—the same gallery that’d hosted Felix’s exhibition in December.
My eyes snapped up to hers. Her wide eyes and stricken expression was all the confirmation I needed.
Another thick silence between us.
A minute ago, I’d been worried about Kai and Clarissa. Now I found out she’s with my brother?
What in the ever-loving hell is going on tonight? Maybe I wasn’t actually at the bar. Maybe I passed out at the coffee shop and was having the most vivid dream of my life.
This time, Clarissa was the one who broke the silence. “Please don’t tell anyone yet.” She twisted the bracelet again, her blush deepening. “My family still thinks I’m interested in Kai, and I don’t…”
“I won’t tell anyone.” I, of all people, knew what it was like to keep a relationship secret.
She gave me a grateful smile. We’d crossed paths a few times before tonight, but she seemed more relaxed compared to our previous encounters. It was probably Felix’s influence; he could make even a clam open up.
We didn’t talk again until we exited the bathroom. I nearly crashed into Clarissa when she came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes swiveled between me and Kai, who was talking to another customer at the bar.
“You know what? I don’t feel well,” she said. “Can you tell Kai I had to leave and give him my sincerest apologies?”
“What? No, wait! You can tell him yourself. He’s right…there,” I finished as she blew out the door like a gust of wind.
There one second, gone the next.
Dammit. I knew Clarissa left to force me to talk to Kai, and it was working. I couldn’t leave him sitting there, wondering what’d happened to her.
I walked toward him, my limbs slow and heavy like I was moving underwater. Nerves cramped my stomach, and the curious, concerned stares of my friends weighed heavy on my skin as I mentally rehearsed what I was going to say.
I ran into Clarissa in the bathroom. She doesn’t feel well. She left.
She doesn’t feel well, so she left and told me to tell you.
She said to tell you…
She said I still cared about you, and she’s right.
Kai must’ve felt the heat of my stare because he looked up right as I approached. Our eyes locked, and time decelerated into a long, endless beat of yearning.
Skin flushed. Pulse pounding. Heart in my mouth.
Just like that, whatever chance I had of avoiding him slammed shut with bone-rattling finality.
Kai’s face didn’t betray any emotions when I stopped next to him and took Clarissa’s vacated seat. I would stand—easier and faster to escape that way—but I feared my knees would crumple and I’d collapse against him like one of those swooning maidens in vintage romance novels.
“I ran into Clarissa in the bathroom.” Stick to the script. “She’s not feeling well, and she told me to tell you she had to leave.”
Fortunately, I didn’t mess up my lines. Un fortunately, they came out hoarse and scratchy, like I was on the verge of tears.
“I see.” Kai’s expression was an impenetrable fortress. “Thank you for letting me know.”
The sound of his voice was so beautiful and familiar it evacuated the air from my lungs. It took every ounce of willpower not to dwell on how much I wanted to fall into his arms. To kiss him and pretend our breakup never happened and that we were still living in our happy bubble on Jade Cay.
K + I.
It’s scientifically proven, my love.
The pressure in my chest doubled, and I was saved only by the bartender, who showed up a millisecond before I did something stupid like cry in the middle of a crowded room.
I shoved my emotions down and ordered a strawberry gin and tonic. I didn’t know what possessed me to order that particular drink, but it was too late to change it.
Kai’s shoulders visibly stiffened. A fissure cracked his stony mask, and memories leaked into the air between us like ink spilling on a blank canvas.
What can I get for you?
Gin and tonic. Strawberry flavored.
You think translating a five-hundred-page novel into Latin by hand is relaxing?
You’ll finish it…you’re too strong not to.
We’re so close, Isa.
Don’t give up on us. Not now. Not like this.
I drew a shaky breath against the rise of tears and accepted my drink from the bartender. “I received an interesting email last week from a literary agent. Jill Sherman. I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”
I should’ve returned to my table, but I didn’t want to leave him yet. Being near him again was like coming home during a rainstorm. Warm. Safe. Right.
Kai relaxed a smidge. “It depends,” he said, his tone measured. “What did she want?”
“She asked for a revise and resubmit.” I took a fortifying sip. “I made her edits and sent her the full manuscript tonight. That’s why we’re here.” I gestured at my friends, who quickly looked away and pretended they hadn’t been staring. “To celebrate.”
A flicker of pride softened Kai’s face. “You finished the book.”
“Yeah.” I mustered a weak smile. “Thanks to a handy digital typewriter.” It forced me to keep writing instead of going back and deleting every other sentence.
“It wasn’t the typewriter that wrote the story, Isabella,” he said, his voice low. “It was you.”
My heart twisted itself into knots. The last time we talked, I broke up with him and kicked him out of my apartment, yet he was still encouraging me like I hadn’t dragged us both into hell.
“Why did you do it?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t even read the manuscript. You never said anything…”
“If I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to stop me.” Kai gave a small shake of his head. “Perhaps I overstepped by sending it to Jill without consulting you, but I didn’t want you agonizing over it.