Page 103 of I Will Mend You

I wince. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head. “That’s just to say I hit rock bottom. I was even about to cave in to my parents’ pressure on me to go to law school. That money and apartment was the break I needed.”

Some of the pressure around my chest loosens. “I’m so glad it helped.”

We exchange smiles. It’s almost like old times, with her visiting me at Parisii Drive to share gossip. I used to wish my life was as exciting as Myra’s. Now, I appreciate the peace and quiet.

She bumps my shoulder. “My old boss at the literary agency emailed me two days ago, offering me back my old job with a promotion.”

“Really?” I ask, my voice breathy.

“I refused.”

“Why?”

“My dad’s cousin died and left Martina and me a bookstore with an upstairs apartment. I’m going to live there, set up my own agency, and sell the kinds of books I want.”

Myra pulls out her phone, showing me footage she shot of us at the book fair. Three of her videos got over two-hundred-thousand views and a fourth got a million. She scrolls through the comments showing dozens of authors expressing their interest in collaborating.

“I threw up a form on my link page, and it’s already gotten over a hundred responses.”

“That’s amazing,” I say.

The words come from far away, and my gaze drifts to the roses. I’m happy to see my best friend thriving, but it feels like life is passing me by. We chat for hours, although it’s mostly Myra catching me up with everything that’s happened since I was taken. The book world moves so quickly, with new trends, new authors, and exciting new genres. Maybe it’s too late for me to ever realize my dreams.

Myra pulls me into a hug. “You know, you’ll always be my number one client. No matter what you want to write, I’ll help it get published.”

The door behind us opens, letting out the rich, mouth-watering scents of herbs and garlic. I turn around and lock gazes with Xero, who’s wearing a black apron over his clothes. The sight of him, so dominant yet domestic, sends a thrill down my spine.

“Lunch is ready, ladies,” he says in a deep voice that curls around my senses like sin.

Myra’s breath catches beside me, and I smile. It’s almost funny to think I was once struck only by his handsome face. There’s so much more to him than his external beauty, a depth that draws me into his allure.

His gaze skips over my friend, lands on me, and he winks. That simple gesture, so casual yet intimate, makes my cheeks flare with heat. The butterflies in my stomach awaken, fluttering hard enough to make me shift on my seat.

Pride swells at our connection. I return his gesture with a tiny smile.

As Myra loops her arm through mine and walks us toward the kitchen, something in my heart lightens. Bringing the two people I love most in the world together fills me with a sense of belonging. I want to take advantage of my newfound freedom so my life can finally begin.

FIFTY-FIVE

XERO

I step back, letting Amethyst into the kitchen. Our eyes lock, and I see a flicker of the woman she used to be before her expression shutters into a blank mask.

My heart sinks, but I hide my disappointment behind a smile. It will take more than a week of bedrest to overcome her ordeal, and I’m determined to give her time.

Myra stares up at me with wide eyes. The last time I saw her was when they were both unconscious in the back of that limousine after the book fair. Isabel and Dr. Dixon picked them up in a triage van and put them both on saline until they regained a semblance of consciousness. After that, Camila transported Myra to her apartment, and I took Amethyst back to Parisii Drive.

Back then, I wanted to throttle Myra, both for retaining a physical copy of the manuscript I’d taken trouble to delete, and for leading Amethyst into danger. I let her live because she’s the younger sister of my attorney and a loyal friend to my little ghost.

Amethyst gasps at the platter of arancini on the table. I made it with a marinara dipping sauce, based on something I read in the diary I obtained from the Salentino sisters.

“This is my favorite,” she cries.

Myra frowns. “Really? I didn’t know you liked Italian food.”

Amethyst rubs the back of her neck and frowns. “Maybe I ate it at my other school?”

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