“Because he sold the studio?” I look at her. “Because of the things that he kept from you, that you have to keep from me?”
“Exactly that.” I chuckle.
“It will come, Nina. I think he’s a really special guy. It’s obvious he adores you.”
I drop my head back and look up at the sky. Soft pink hues painting it a mesmerising shade as the night draws in. The air is warm, and I feel completely relaxed.
“Twenty-nine tomorrow, Luce.” I grin, feeling her lie down next to me.
“Ugh, don’t. I’m getting old.”
“You are not old! You’re in your prime. Embrace it.”
“Remember when we were young, and twenty-eight-year-olds seemed so mature and put together.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, reminiscing.
“Well, I don’t feel like that. Put together or mature. In my head, I’m twenty-one still. I consider going back to uni on the daily, yet I love my job. I can’t hold down a relationship because what I want isn’t real.” She blows out a harsh breath. “I applied for an internship in New York.”
“What? When?”
“Three months ago. I got it. They gave me four months to respond.”
I sit up in a rush, turning to look down at her. “Luce! That’s huge.”
“I turned it down.”
“What?!”
I see her throat bob as she swallows the lump there.
She regrets it.
“I didn’t think I could do it on my own. I’m twenty-nine tomorrow,” she sniggers. “and I don’t feel independent. I don’t feel like I’m my own person.”
“What makes you think you aren’t independent? You’re one of the most grounded people I know, Luce.”
She shrugs, looking for the right words. “I guess it’s me holding myself back, and I feel like I should be loyal to Jean. I don’t know what she’d do without me.”
“The fact you worry about being loyal says everything about your loyalty. Jean wouldn’t let you stay if she knew. You know that.”
“I know, which is why it’s a rubbish excuse.”
“You don’t want to go,” I state.
She shrugs, smiling softly. “My gut told me no.”
“Then you did the right thing,” I affirm. “Don’t ever think you need to be more than you are right now, Luce. You may be feeling a little lost, but I know exactly who you are. So do you, deep down.”
“Thanks, Nina.”
“Always.” I stand and take her hands, urging her to get up. “And don’t worry, there’s always Botox.”
“Piss off, you cheeky bitch.” She laughs, standing and slipping her arm in mine as we head for the shoreline.
It’s late afternoon, and the girls are all holed up in Mason’s and my room. The boys are sat below us on the patio, their chatter drifting up and into the room.
We’ve been here for four days and have to go home soon, and I don’t want to leave. Mason is happy here, and I mean really happy, which is remarkable given what he and Scar have endured recently.
