Page 113 of The Close-Up
Cole looks off to the side. “Speaking of the devil.”
I look up and my mouth falls open. There’s Simon, decked out in a charcoal gray suit with a white shirt underneath, collar unbuttoned, no tie, looking like he stepped straight out of aGQad. His light brown hair is cropped close to his scalp on the sides. The top is thick and long like usual, but slicked back. He must have gotten it cut. It takes a few seconds, but I eventually clamp my mouth shut. My eyes bulge the tiniest bit, even though I mentally order myself to keep it together. He looks mind-blowingly handsome and I can barely handle it.
When he walks up to us, I see that he’s left some stubble on his cheeks. My mouth waters. I always, always loved his stubble.
Before I have to muster the strength to greet him politely and pretend that my heart isn’t totally shattered, Cole yanks him into a hug. Simon lets out an “oof” noise.
They pull apart, but Cole keeps hold of Simon with his hands on his shoulders. “None of this would have been possible without you.” His voice shakes and his eyes water. “Thank you.”
Simon starts to speak, but Cole pulls him into another death hug that turns his face red. Just then one of Cole’s kids calls for him and he runs off. Simon and I are left alone together.
I hold my breath, wondering if now is the right time to tell him what I need to say—what he deserves to hear from me.
That I’m sorry I walked out on him the other morning while he was asleep instead of talking things out. That was so beyond hurtful.
That I’m sorry I doubted my feelings for him.
That I’m sorry I let my disastrous dating past dictate my future with him.
That he’s the most incredible guy, I’m the biggest fool for letting him go, and whoever he ends up with is the luckiest.
And maybe, just maybe, if I’m bold enough, I’ll tell him I love him too.
Just thinking about that last one makes me want to vomit. Because how humiliating would that be, confessing my love to the guy I can’t have?
You did it to yourself.
My gaze falls to my heels. And there goes my nerve.
“You look incredible, Naomi,” he says softly.
His compliment throws me off. My head whips up. He’s gazing at me with that same intensity I saw the last night we were together.
“Sorry, what?”
“You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning,” he says without missing a beat.
“Oh. Thanks. You, um, you look like a freaking male model.”
His eyes turn shy. “I don’t know about that, but thank you.”
Once the momentary lightness of exchanging compliments fades, we’re back to awkward standing and staring.
“So how do you wanna do this?” I finally say.
He frowns at me. “What do you mean?”
“I was planning to get commentary from Cole and Tamara before the ceremony, film it, then interview you afterwards. Viewers submitted a bunch of questions for you and I thought it would be nice if you could answer some.”
“Oh.” A bewildered look clouds his face, like he’s just now remembering that I’m here to film this for his series. “Right. Sure.”
“Great.” I let out a sigh while fidgeting.
“About last night,” he says after a moment.
“What about it?” I ask softly.
“When I was outside of Meyer Lemon and saw you at the entrance...”
