Her cheeks pinked. “Erm, about that…”
As if on cue, my phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime call from a certain European royal.
“Ava.”
“You can’t expect me to keep the news to myself. I’m never the first to get a good scoop.” She held up her hands. “Besides, Bridge was in the group chat.”
I sighed, but since it was too late to put the news back in the box, I answered the call.
Bridget’s face filled the screen. “You’re dating Josh Chen?” she asked without preamble. “What? How? Why?”
“Hello, Your Majesty. Good evening to you, too,” I said pointedly. “How are you doing?”
“Don’t how are you doing me.” Bridget pushed her green cloth headband higher up on her head. She must’ve turned in for the night, because her face was scrubbed free of makeup and I caught a glimpse of her silk pajama top at the bottom of the screen. “Tell me everything. Don’t leave out any details. I always miss the good stuff over here in Europe.”
“Don’t you have royal duties to attend to or something?”
“It’s midnight, Jules, and my royal duties consist of wrangling ministers who insist on acting like grade schoolers. Please, let me have some fun.” A masculine rumble murmured something offscreen. Bridget turned her head to whisper something back before she faced me again. “Rhys says hi.”
She panned the camera so I could see Rhys, who waved at me from his spot next to her in bed. His gray eyes glowed with bemusement.
I let out another sigh, but I recounted the story again, starting with the clinic truce. When I finished, Bridget and Stella stared at me with open mouths.
“Wow. That’s…” Bridget shook her head. I’d propped my phone up against a glass so we could all see her. “Somehow you and Josh together make zero sense and all the sense in the world.”
“Does this mean you guys have stopped bickering?” Stella asked with a hopeful expression.
“Nope. We bicker more,” I said cheerfully. “It leads to great ha—” Hate sex. I cut off abruptly when Ava’s eyes widened with alarm. “You know.”
Stella wrinkled her nose. “I don’t, and I don’t want to know. I’ll never be able to look at Josh the same.”
“You will one day.” Stella didn’t date much, but it wasn’t for lack of interest from guys—she fielded suitors every day. Romance simply wasn’t a priority. “Enough about me. What about you?”
“What about me?” Wariness touched her features.
“You’re the last woman left standing.” Mischief lit up my face. “Who’s going to be the guy who sweeps you off your feet?”
“When you find him, let me know,” she said dryly. “In the meantime, I’m just trying to survive Anya.”
Anya was her boss and the editor-in-chief of D.C. Style magazine.
While Stella told us about her latest photoshoot, which apparently involved a hungover supermodel, a live python, and a gallon of baby oil, a familiar photo drew my attention to the TV hanging over the bar.
Shock stole my breath from my lungs. Brown hair, blue eyes, stubbled jaw, unsmiling face.
Max.
The volume was off, but the closed captions were on, so I could read what happened.
“…body was found in a hotel room in Baltimore. The victim, Max Renner, was stabbed multiple times and died at the scene. Renner was recently released from prison for grand larceny and is believed to be involved in an Ohio-based crime ring. Police suspect other members of the crime ring are responsible for his murder, and the FBI…”
Max was dead.
All those years, all that heartache, he was dead.
I guess his associates finally caught up with him.
Other than a trickle of relief, I felt…nothing. Not even vindication after what he did in the stairwell.
I’d truly put him in the past.
I dragged my attention back to my friends in time to see Stella’s face pale at something on her phone while Ava and Bridget chatted about Bridget’s upcoming diplomatic trip to Argentina.
A seed of concern sprouted in my chest. “Is everything okay?” Stella rarely looked that rattled.
“Yes.” She slid her phone into her bag and smiled, but it looked more forced than usual. “Something came up at work, but I’ll deal with it later.”
“You should find a job that treats you better,” I said gently. “You’re talented enough. You can even go full-time with your blog.”
Stella made a ton of money from brand sponsorships.
“Maybe one day.”
I took the hint from her subdued response and dropped the issue, though my concern remained. Stella kept all her feelings and troubles bottled up. It wasn’t healthy in the long run, but now wasn’t the time to get into it.
We rejoined Bridget and Ava’s conversation and eventually shifted topics to Ava’s promotion at work. It was past midnight in Eldorra, but Bridget stayed up with us to talk.
My chest glowed with warmth.
It felt like old times, when we would order pizza and talk into the early hours of the morning in our dorm room.
We weren’t eighteen anymore, but we were still us. Even if one of us lived on a different continent now, and we didn’t see each other as much as we used to at school, our friendship was a steady rock.
It was comforting to know that no matter how much some things changed, others will always stay the same.
57
JULES
“What’s the surprise?” I bounced on the balls of my feet, unable to contain my curiosity as we stepped into the elevator of a luxury Upper East Side apartment building. “Tell me, please. I’m dying here.”
Josh had surprised me with a trip to New York to catch the last showing of the Legally Blonde musical revival earlier that night, and he said he had another surprise for me before we left tomorrow. I’d tried to pry the secret from him during our entire cab ride here, but he’d refused to budge.
“Red, we will literally be there in a few minutes.” He pressed the button for the penthouse, and my curiosity ramped up another notch. “Haven’t you ever heard the term patience?”
“Patience?” I pretended to think. “Nope, never heard of it.”
I laughed when he swatted my ass in playful punishment.
I’d been floating on a high since Josh and I got back together. I caught myself humming at the oddest times, like when I was loading the dishwasher or waiting for the metro, and my cheeks ached from smiling so much. Even stress over my looming bar results couldn’t dampen the weightlessness in my chest.
Nothing turned a person into a bigger cheeseball than being in love, and I wasn’t even mad about it. There were worse things than being cheesy. Besides, cheese was a top tier food group.
When we arrived at the penthouse, a woman in a stunning white dress checked our names off a list and waved us in with a smile. “Welcome to the exhibition, Mr. Chen, Ms. Ambrose. The gallery is to your right.”
“Exhibition?” I took in the sleek, modern furniture and glass walls overlooking Central Park. The place looked like a private residence, not a museum.