My eyes narrow as I stare across the veranda. “When did you become such a smart-ass?”
“One of us has to be smart,” she says, taking a sip of her water. “Now get the hell out of here, and go grovel for your hotties.”
“What about Freya? She’s with her mom, and she clearly doesn’t want to come clean about our relationship.”
“She’ll come around,” she insists. “But make sure she knows you two will be there. Don’t let them get away, Jules.”
“It’s not that easy,” I argue.
“Why not?” she snaps. “At least try, you miserable jerk.”
“You’re so mean.”
“No, I’m not. I’m an angel,” she replies with a smile, dimples piercing her cheeks. “Now go!”
For a moment, I don’t move. I hate the idea of groveling. I’m not a groveling man. I swore I’d never be the one left behind, but then the thought of Freya’s smile or the weight of Archer’s body when it drapes over me at night enters my mind, and suddenly, I’m bursting out of my chair. Onyx howls angrily as she lands on the cold ground.
“Good luck,” Amelia says behind me as I rush back inside my apartment.
My first stop is the bathroom. Taking a quick shower, I scrub off the events of the last twenty-four hours while rehearsing exactly what I will say to them. After getting out, I don’t bother making myself look perfect. I don’t even put on my jewelry or brush my hair. It falls messily over my forehead, but I don’t care. In a pair of black joggers and a T-shirt, I slip on a pair of sneakers and jog toward the front door.
My sister must have cleaned up my mess, because the broken mug is nowhere to be seen, and Onyx is lying peacefully on top of the baby grand.
Just before leaving, I halt in my tracks. Standing in front of the mirror, I stare at my reflection. I look a mess. Dark circles under my eyes. Still wet, messed-up hair. Wrinkled clothes. But none of that matters. Not really.
None of that can protect me.
Today has to be the day I take control. I have to show them that I will take care of myself to take care ofus.
So with that, I grab the pill bottle and unscrew the lid. Dropping one in my palm, I throw it into my mouth and swallow it dry.
Will one pill alone fix me? Or fix this? No. But it’s a start.
Grabbing the handle of the door, I freeze as I remember something. Turning back, I drop to the floor on my stomach and look under the armoire, spotting the silver ring near the foot.
Reaching my hand under the furniture, I grab the ring and jump back to my feet. In a desperate dash, I rush out the front door.
I don’t even know what I’m going to say. Sorry I was a dickhead? Please forgive me? That’ll have to do.
I don’t bother with the elevator. It will take too long. Instead, I run down the stairs, remembering the night he and I carried Freya up six flights of these on our first date.
When I reach Archer’s floor, I barrel toward his door and rap my knuckles against the wood in quick, desperate succession. It’s quiet.
Then the silence stretches into minutes. I knock again.
Nothing.
“Archer, please!” I call, banging once more.
Still nothing.
Where the fuck is he?
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I quickly open up his contact to search his location. My stomach drops when I notice that he’s not here.
Then I punch the Call button as I hurry toward the stairs,rushing down to the bottom floor. He doesn’t pick up, and it goes to voicemail. Hanging up, I quickly text Lucien, asking for a ride. The absolute saint that he is, he replies that he’ll be here in minutes.
Moments later, he’s pulling up outside my building, and I’m climbing in in a rush.
