My mom groans but also laughs. “Remember that Halloween where you and Ace dressed up like Sandy and Danny fromGrease?”
I nod, my chest squeezing. “Of course I do. It’s Ace’s favorite movie.”
“You looked amazing,” my mom says.
“Youdid,” Cassie agrees, eyes twinkling. “And if you’re serious about wanting to fix things with my son…” She leans in. “I’ve got a pair of fantastic leather hot pants at home you could borrow. Just saying.”
Before I can answer, a deep voice from the direction of the camera setup calls out, slightly bewildered. “Uh…Cassie? Are we still doing this? Or…?”
We all turn.
Theo Damon. As in,theTheo Damon. Star ofCriminal Bloom,The Stolen Coastline, and that one rom-com everyone was obsessed with last year.
He’s standing in front of the lighting set in a perfectly tailored navy coat, wind machine going, brows furrowed in mild confusion. He’s movie-star handsome with the kind of jawline that could slice a watermelon.
Cassie waves at him like he’s a mildly annoying extra. “Just stand there and look pretty!”
He blinks. “Okay…cool.”
Then she turns right back to me and my mom as if nothing happened.
I glance between her and Theo freaking Damon, stunned. “Did you just…”
Cassie shrugs, nonchalantly adjusting her camera strap. “You know, Jules,” she says casually, “those leather hot pants I mentioned really deserve an encore.”
I can’t decide if this is the best or worst idea I’ve ever had, but I decide I need to do it. I need to show Ace that not only am I sorry for how everything has gone down, but that I’m all in when it comes to him.
By the time I’m back at my apartment building—after a quick pit stop at the Kellys’ penthouse to get Cassie’s leather hot pants—my entire body is vibrating with nervous energy.
But when I unlock my door and step inside, my feet kick something on the floor.
It’s a white envelope, and my name is written on the top of it in handwriting I’ve known for what feels like my whole life. Handwriting I’ve seen change over the years from messy and unreadable to scribbly and sharp.
My hands shake as I open it.
Julia,
There are so many things I want to say to you. So many things I need to say to you. Honestly, I’ve tried. I’ve written so many unsent texts and emails to you, it’s not even funny.
I’m sorry for how I handled shit. I’m sorry for all the wild situations I put you in because I didn’t have the balls to tell you that I’m in love with you.
I’m sorry for that night I came home drunk and didn’ttell you about Double C and made you think I was out with some random girl. I wasn’t, by the way. Frankly, Julia, I can’t fathom the thought of being with another girl who isn’t you.
I’m so fucking sorry I made you feel manipulated and violated. God, the mere thought of that makes me want to vomit. That’s the last thing I want you to feel.
And I’m sorry if I made you feel like I took you for granted throughout our friendship. If I made you feel like you were the girl on my sidelines. If you felt like you were some kind of backup plan.
I can be fucking self-involved and self-absorbed and selfish, and I can see how those piss-poor qualities could make you feel all the things you did. I took for granted that you were always there. Not because I didn’t care, but you were a given for me. You were always it, Julia.
You’re still it for me. You’re still the love of my life, even if it’s not reciprocated on your end.
In my mind, no one compares to you. No one is more important than you.
I know you’re with Drew now. I know you’re in a relationship that’s possibly getting serious, and I’m not trying to ruin something if it’s making you happy. Because Julia, I really, truly want you to be happy. I wish more than anything I could be the guy who makes you happy, but I’ll gladly take you being happy with someone else if it means you’re safe and protected and content.
I miss you. I miss us.
I miss my best friend. And I hope one day she’ll be able to forgive me.
