Page 138 of Angel Eyes

Marcel’s eyes ticked from him to me and back again. “Very well.”

Clapping me on the shoulder, he nodded to Gabriel on the way out before leaving us alone. An awkward silence descended as we stared at each other from opposite ends of the room, and I licked my lips, unsure of what to say. I doubted our heart-to-heart the other day was enough to fix everything between us, but perhaps the fact that he was here meant there was hope for us yet.

“Did you mean it?” he said finally, approaching me with a hard look. “Before, when you told me you were sorry about what happened with Juliet—did you mean it?”

I blinked at him in surprise before giving him a sharp nod. “Yes, of course I meant it.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath. “Because I’m going to need your help to win her back.”

Forty-Eight

Juliet

“You’re kidding. He did not say that.”

“He did,” I countered, glancing down at Ember’s wide-eyed gaze filling the screen. Propping my phone up on the bathroom counter, I examined my reflection, fingering the blunt ends of my freshly trimmed hair. “He said he was sorry for being a pretentious dick.”

She scoffed. “Well, screw me sideways. I never thought I’d see the day when Kyle Alexander Worthington the Third would apologize for anything.”

I shrugged. “People change, I guess.”

She hummed, giving me a thoughtful look. “Speaking of change, I’m loving this blowout on you. It’s très chic.” She plucked at her lip, tilting her head to one side. “Seriously, I’m tempted to book a flight to Paris.”

“You know they have blowout bars in New York, right?” I abandoned my post in front of the mirror and returned to the bedroom. “There’s practically one on every street corner.”

Ember groaned dramatically, collapsing on her sofa a second before Bailey followed suit, hopping up onto her lap and rolling onto his back. “I hate getting blowouts in New York. I swear, every time I get one, I end up looking like Farrah Fawcett circa 1975.”

I snort-laughed and opened a window, the early evening breeze carrying with it the now familiar scent of the river. Turning in place, I looked around the room that had been mine for the past few months before my eyes snagged on the suitcase lying open on the floor. I stared at it.

Ember’s voice cut through the silence. “Are you sure about this, Jules?”

I nodded, releasing a slow breath. “Yeah, about as sure as I’ll ever be.”

As much as I wanted to be certain my decision was the right one, the truth was, I still had my doubts. What if I woke up in ten years asking myself, What if I had made a different choice? I guessed that was a possibility I would have to live with.

“I should message Kyle. He’s planning to send a car tomorrow.”

“Wow, he’s really laying on the charm, isn’t he?” Ember shooed Bailey away, climbing to her feet. “Well, I’d better let you get to it then. Call me tomorrow?”

“Yep.” I gave her a weak smile. “Talk soon.” I ended the call, but before I could set the phone down, it rang again. Simone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, babe,” she said cheerfully, and I immediately narrowed my eyes in suspicion. Please, God, don’t let this be about a last-minute shopping trip. “What are you doing right now?”

“Oh, um,” I hedged, “I’m on campus. I had to handle a few things for Benoit.”

She snorted in amusement. “No, you’re not. I can see your kitchen light on beneath the front door. Open up, you little liar.”

I winced, my cheeks warming as I shuffled down the hallway.

In true Simone fashion, the second I threw open the door, she glided across the threshold like she was on a runway, wearing an emerald-green cocktail dress and carrying a garment bag. She held it out to me. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

I frowned. “What?”

“I’m taking you out to celebrate being a finalist in the NRF competition. I told you, win or lose, we’re celebrating, remember?”

I eyed the bag, then her again. “Are you serious?”

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