was assigned my role a long time ago. I’ve accepted it.”
“Fuck Nathan,” she said, grabbing my wrist when I paced by her and pulling me down onto the couch. “He was an idiot for letting you go. But what he said about you?” She shook her head. “It’s not true. He does not get to define you.”
My chest tightened with the force of a car crusher, my heart wheezing under the pressure. “Look, I appreciate you saying that. Really, I do. But… it’s just safer for me this way. I mean, look, I broke my three-date rule with Jordan, and look how that turned out.” I waved my hand as if he were there with us.
“That’s not fair,” Gemma argued. “You guys didn’t have a relationship — not a real one, anyway.”
“That’s because I can’t do relationships.”
“But you could!” She shook her head, desperate. “Can’t you see that this guy is crazy about you? He’s pulling out all the stops to date you like you deserve to be dated. This isn’t a guy texting you at two in the morning to come over and ‘watch movies’. Makoa wants you.”
I swept my hair behind my ears on a shrug. I wanted to lean into those words. I wanted to believe they were true.
But… I knew better.
“And he can have me,” I said. “For one night.” I looked at my best friend, hoping she saw how much I hated having this conversation so we could stop.
“And after that? You’re just going to, what, ignore him? He’s your client, too, in case you forgot. Are you just going to let me handle his condo design?”
“If I need to. But my bet is we could keep it professional. Makoa seems like a rational guy.”
Gemma sighed, reaching over to grab my hand in hers. “I know you hate talking about this, so I won’t beat a dead horse. But just listen to me for a second. Okay?”
I nodded.
“You once helped me pull my head out of my own ass when I was too blind to see that Zach was a good thing for me. And I know it’s early with this guy, but he seems really great, Belle. And I don’t want you to miss out on what could be with him because you’re still listening to your douchebag of an ex.”
“Along with every guy I’ve ever been with since him.”
Gemma frowned, squeezing my hand. “You are the author of your story, Belle. You get to decide what happens next.” She held up her hands in surrender, pulling out my phone from under her ass and handing it back to me. “And now I’m going to open another bottle of wine and leave it at that.”
She was up off the couch before I could respond, and I stared at my phone a long time before unlocking it and laughing to myself at the string of emojis Makoa sent in response to mine.
Makoa: Let’s do dinner beforehand. I’ll pick you up at five.
Makoa: Can’t wait to see you.
I clutched the stupid phone to my chest, willing my stupid heart to stop fluttering, reminding my stupid brain that if we followed that stupid heart, we’d end up shattered just like we did before.
I had to remember that.
It was the only way I’d survive.
Makoa
Not going to lie, I felt dapper as hell when I arrived at Belle’s place Saturday night.
There was a cool breeze rolling in between the buildings of downtown Chicago, a blessedly rare occasion on a summer evening, and I was thankful for it. I was dressed to the nines in my best tailored suit, an anthracite mohair frock coat and matching slacks that was of the Italian style. My tie was navy and silver, and, because it was Moulin Rouge!, I’d even brought a top hat.
I carried that hat under my arm, whistling a tune as I strolled up to the lobby of Belle’s building. I checked in at the front desk — with a girl who blessedly didn’t recognize me — and after a quick ring up to Belle’s place, I was granted access, and the elevator took me up to the twentieth floor.
The nerves didn’t hit me until I was at her door, my knuckles rapping on the wood. And when that door swung open and Belle appeared like a vision on the other side of it, it was all I could do to keep my jaw set and my heart steady.
Her hair was darker than the first time I met her, the