If the Sun Never Sets - Ana Huang Page 0,35

air, waiting for a verdict.

Farrah was the judge, jury, and executioner, and as Blake spoke, her breathing picked up until her chest heaved with each intake of oxygen. Her face was smooth and still as a pane of glass, but a hurricane brewed in her eyes. Emotions flickered through them at such a rapid pace Blake couldn’t pin them down.

The seconds stretched into eternity, prolonging his torture. Blake couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Every nerve of his body stood on alert while his heart paced in his chest, faster and faster until he wanted to throw up from the anticipation.

“I can’t give you that.” Farrah’s rejection sliced through the space between them, turning Blake’s confession into desolate scraps of confetti that fluttered into a heap on the ground. The glimmer of foolish hope in his heart crumbled into ash, filling his airways and choking him. “I can give you one night. That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

Chapter Seventeen

1 month later

The sun beat down on Farrah with fierce intensity, scalding her skin and causing rivulets of perspiration to snake down her face. The heat was merciless, almost angry, as if punishing her for her heartless behavior.

Not heartless, smart, she corrected herself. What she did in Syracuse a month ago was smart, safe, and logical. As the saying goes, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

Farrah wasn’t going to let Blake fool her again with his pretty words and promises of forever. She’d made that mistake once, and it almost broke her beyond repair.

But if she did the right thing, why was she so miserable?

“Thank God. I was dying out there,” Olivia said when the hostess waved them into the restaurant. Leyla was the hottest new brunch spot in town, and it didn’t take reservations, which meant you had to wait at least an hour for a seat on the weekends. Olivia hated lines more than she hated wrinkled shirts, but Farrah knew she’d make an exception for food. “It’s so freakin’ hot today.”

Farrah murmured in agreement as she followed the hostess to their table.

“Who’s this mystery friend that’s supposed to meet us?” Olivia examined the single-page menu. “They better be good, considering we waited in line for an hour and they’re not even here yet.”

“Uh, well, you know him.”

Olivia lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

“He’s right there.”

Farrah waved at her friend and braced herself for the fallout. Olivia turned, then whipped around to face Farrah again with fury oozing out of every pore.

“Are. You. Kidding me?”

“Remember Ken?” Farrah said quickly. “I forgave you for that.”

“That’s different! That was an innocent mistake on my part. He’s perfectly respectable in the office. I didn’t know he was such a jerk outside the office. But this, this is an act of utter betrayal—”

“Hey.” Sammy stopped next to their table. He looked even more handsome than usual in a pale blue button-down that set off his tan and a pair of dark denim jeans.

His face lit up with surprise and anger at the sight of Olivia. He was too much of a gentleman to say anything, but the displeasure wafted from him in waves.

“Hi!” Farrah chirped. “So glad you could make it. Take a seat.”

Sammy bypassed the empty seat next to Olivia and sat beside Farrah.

Both he and Olivia pinned Farrah with steely glares.

Hmm. Maybe tricking them into brunch with each other wasn’t the best idea.

But Farrah was sick of the animosity between her friends, and she wanted them to make up already. It’d been years since their breakup.

She realized the irony of the situation, given her refusal to give Blake another chance, but that was different. Sammy and Olivia’s breakup had been mutual, and one of them hadn’t confessed they still had feelings for the other.

Allegedly still had feelings. Farrah wasn’t going to take Blake’s words at face value.

“I’m so happy we’re together again.” Farrah tried to get the conversation going. “It’s like old times.” Minus the rest of the group, but that was a minor detail.

“Just like old times.” Sarcasm dripped from Olivia’s voice.

Farrah kicked her under the table and winced when Olivia kicked her back. They glared at each other.

Farrah tried her luck with the more reasonable person at the table. “Sammy, how was your meeting?”

Sammy had texted her when he returned to New York a few days ago—this time, hopefully, for much longer than three days.

He’d had a “casual coffee” with a potential business partner this morning, which was why he couldn’t wait in