She comes over and hugs me. “We’re not anymore. Thank you for the apology.”
I set the espresso cup aside and hug her back, hard.
When she pulls away, she glances toward my room. “Be, um,nicewhen you kick him to the curb, all right? He’s a jerk, but probably doesn’t deserve being a prop in some stupid fight.”
“Oh, he got plenty out of it. Now he can go back to collecting art and rare vinyl and second-tier aristocracy chicks with names like ‘Beatrice Hughes-Cavendish.’”
“Did you actually let him sleep over? You never do that!”
“Who says we slept?” I give a comical wink.
“Are you”—she lowers her voice—“feeling something for him?”
“Fuckno. I ain’t built for it. I can barely tolerate the guy.” I swing one leg restlessly, peeking at Priya. “But, uh, you and Jules, huh? Looks like you really love him, I guess. Just… not more than you loveme, right?” I prod her with my bare foot. I’m trying to be light and jokey about it, but there’s so much insecurity behind it that my heart cramps.
“Sage.” She looks at me soberly. “You know it’s not the same.”
I blow a small raspberry. “That’s the kind of bullshit parents say.”
“And parents mean it too.”
I roll my eyes, uncomfortable with how serious this is getting. “Yeah, well. You’re way too good for the guy.”
“Not true. He’s a wonderful person. He’s having problems right now—and I didn’t realize the extent of it until last month—but it doesn’t diminish who he is. Julian has a good heart. He wants to get better, but he can’t do it alone.”
“Mmm.” I’m thinking again about what happened in Thailand, recommitting to not saying anything to Pri. Is it right to hold a grudge forever, considering that he was an adolescent when it happened? Incomplete brain development, high impulsivity… maybe I’m being too hard on him.
Do Ineedto stay mad for some reason?
“So, um,” Priya begins, avoiding my eyes. “If the pills were a problem for him over a year ago, why didn’t you say anything to me?”
I almost blurt out a lie. Then I decide she deserves better even if it makes me look like a complete shit. “Because I knowhow you are, ‘patron saint of lost causes,’ and I was afraid it’d make you invested in him, and… I wanted you to myself.”
My God, it sounds even worse than I thought. So selfish. My conscience points out critically,Maybe you and Julian both abandoned each other.
“That’s why I got so mad at you guys that night at my parents’ house,” I confess, feeling like it’s now or never to say all of it. “I was scared for Jules and threatened by you two being a thing.” I poke her with my foot again, smiling, needing to lighten the mood. “So much for you claiming all these years that you’re ‘not Julian’s type,’ eh?”
“Psh!I still don’t believe Iam. He’s mister adventure sports, and the most adventurous thing I do is try out a really complicated recipe.”
“You’re doing something very adventurous: taking a chance on love. Helluva lot braver than me. I’d take a fifty-g crash over that romance crapanyday.” I point a thumb over my shoulder. “He was fun but… y’know, it’s probably time for that pickup service you joked about last night.”
My bedroom door opens, and Priya and I both swivel to look. Alexander leans in the doorway, sleep-tousled and shirtless and hot as a midrace tyre. My stomach drops, because next comes the moment when I have to tell him we’re done. But what I really want is to crawl between the sheets with him and order room service and talk for hours, watch him have tea and readThe Guardianor whatever fancy-pants bullshit he does with his mornings. I’m not ready for him to leave, but his expiration date was up hours ago.
“Morning, Salvi,” he says with a sleepy smile. “I’d take oneof those if it’s no trouble.” He points at my teeny cup on the counter, then nods sideways toward the en suite, indicating that he’s going to shower.
The door closes. Pri and I look at each other. I feel heat in my face, and hurry to the compact chrome machine, prodding it. “How do you work this fuckin’ thing?”
“I’ll do it. Here, let me.” She starts it up, and while it’s purring out a glossy rope of espresso, she gives me a sidelong look. “What’s ‘salvi’?”
I shrug. “Just a dumb joke.Salvia officinalis. It’s Latin for ‘sage.’”
“Okay, that’s honestly cute. Points.”
“Itiskinda cute, right?”
“He, uh, looks more like a regular person without a shirt.”
I chuckle. “Took off his rich-boy chain mail.” I gnaw at my lower lip. “He was, like, really nice last night. Surprisingly warmhearted and real with me. I kinda almost believe him that the blog stuff was a prank that got outta hand. He’s maybe a decent guy. I think.”
