“I know. I didn’t mean to. I swear. But…” He pauses, reaches into the bag, and pulls out a tiny pothos in a pink ceramic pot. Astarter plant. “I Googled ‘low-stakes forgiveness plant,’ and this was the top result.” He lifts it higher. “Pothos. Practically unkillable. Like your ability to hold grudges against me.”
“I’m feeling very grudge-y right now.” I glare at him. “You flooded my baby girl to an early grave.”
“I thought she was thirsty!” he exclaims. “And Jersey isn’t exactly a hop, skip, and a jump from Manhattan, you know. I had to consolidate my visits while you were gone.”
I eye him knowingly. “Let me guess, you were busy schmoozing rando girls.” Knowing Ace, he probably had two dates with two different women in the same stupid night, so of course, Luna got the low end of his priority totem.
“There was only one rando girl,” he corrects. “Her name is Lindsey and she’s a very nice gal, despite being a little too clingy for my liking.”
“You think every girl you date is clingy,” I retort and point toward where my dead plant sits on the windowsill behind me. “Clearly, even my beloved Luna falls into that category, and she doesn’t even have a vagina!”
“I’m sorry, Julia. I really am.” If I had a penny for every time my best friend has flashed those stupid, perfect brown eyes of his in my direction like a freaking irresistible puppy, I’d be richer than our parents’ net worths combined—and they’re billionaires!
I purse my lips. “Mm-hmm.”
“So… Julia, my favorite girl in the whole world, my best friend, my best girl, my favorite gal pal, the wind beneath my wings, my angel, my—”
“Ace,” I cut him off and cross my arms over my chest. “Get to the point.”
“Are you going to let me come inside your room?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He shifts his weight, his desperation building. “How long has it been?”
I blink rapidly as I’m transported back a decade to a time when I had to keep track of the minutes for him. “I…I don’t know.”
“You know our rule, Jules. Fifteen-minute limit. We can’t stay mad at each other longer than that,” he says, flashing me a hopeful grin. His brown eyes are still big and pleading, and I start to crack like he’s Pavlov and I’m a dog.
Honestly, it’s hard to believe that the Ace standing before me is the same boy from my childhood, because physically speaking, he’s a full-fledged man.
He’s wicked tall, muscular, handsome as hell, and has the kind of entrancing brown eyes that have made numerous girls at Dickson U fall to his feet. My beloved Luna alone was around for several of the random girls Ace has temporarily dated, and she only survived our freshman year of college. When we were in high school together in New Jersey at West Chester Prep, it felt like every week he had a new girlfriend.
“Time’s up, right, Jules?” he pushes, and his pleading yet undeniably magnetic smile is still in place. “I’m positive you texted me over an hour ago. I mean, I ran to Whole Foods, for fuck’s sake.”
I purse my lips, considering the implications of him getting off that easily. “The timer started when you arrived.”
“What?” he questions with a shocked laugh. “That is not how the rule works, Lia, and you know it.”
I glare at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this around on me, you stone-cold plant killer. Our rule was invented to keep our fights in check, not to let you run roughshod over my feelings with a get-out-of-jail-free card anytime you like. The timer started with your arrival. Deal with it.”
“Can you at least let me come inside your room?” He holds up the pothos again. “You know, so I can fully plead my case from somewhere a little more comfortable than the doorway?”
I sigh dramatically but step aside to let him inside my room. Immediately, he sits down in the cushy pink chair by my window. I don’t miss the fact that he’s making a strong effort not to look in Luna’s wilted direction, his body turned almost awkwardly.
“I brought pizza,” he says, pulling a box out of the Whole Foods bag. “And I made sure it has your nasty combination of pineapple and jalapeños. I also thought I could convince you to fully forgive me with a little evening o’ rom-com.”
I squint at him. “Define that.”
“You yell at me about killing your plant—”
“Luna,”I correct him. “She had a name. She wasn’t some weed I plucked from an alley. She was my beautiful baby Luna.”
“My bad,” he says and holds up one hand in defeat. “You yell at me for killing our dear, sweet, beautiful Luna.” He looks to the ceiling and makes the sign of the cross over his chest. “May she rest in peace. Amen.” He meets my eyes again. “For however long you need. Then we eat pizza and watchGrease.”
I snort. “Of course.Grease. Why am I not surprised?”
It’s hisfavoritemovie, though his love for love is born from both nurtureandnature, so it’s hard to point any blame or shame directly at him. His father, Thatcher Kelly, has a long-standing love affair with all things romance. At one point, my dad was forced to be in some kind of romance book club that Ace’s dad was running. Not to mention, Ace’s mom Cassie writes romance novels in her free time, whenever she’s not busy doing her famous NYC photographer thing, and has force-fed beta reading sessions on both of us on more than one occasion.
