If the Sun Never Sets - Ana Huang Page 0,90

“Liv told me what happened with Blake.”

Even when they lived cross-country, her friends gossiped more than middle school girls.

Farrah shrugged. She did not want to spend the last hours of the year discussing her love life, or lack thereof.

“You look sad.”

“I’m not sad.” Farrah tried to take another sip of champagne, only to discover her glass was empty.

Kris pursed her lips. “I don’t like sad people, especially not at my party. It’s not on brand.”

“I told you, I’m not sad.” Farrah pasted on a smile.

“You’re lying, as I suspected you would. But I’ve decided to try and be a nicer person this year so…” Kris hesitated, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I did a thing, which Liv may or may not have put me up to.”

Every warning bell in Farrah’s head clanged. “What did you guys do?”

Instead of answering, Kris pointed her chin at something over Farrah’s shoulder.

Farrah knew.

Even before she turned around, she knew what—or who—was behind her. The tingle on her skin, the racing of her heart…her body reacted before her eyes confirmed her suspicions.

Blake Ryan. Here. In L.A., in Kris’s house, standing not six feet from her.

He wore a tailored blazer over a white dress shirt, bow tie, and slim-fit black pants that showed off his lean, muscular frame in all its glory. His hair was just tousled enough to keep it from looking too perfect, and his lips quirked up in a small, sheepish smile that did strange things to Farrah’s stomach. He carried a small, gift-wrapped box in one hand.

“Hi,” Blake said softly. “Can we talk?”

Chapter Forty

Blake’s heart hammered in his throat while he waited for Farrah to react. She blinked up at him, her huge brown eyes unreadable. Her red jumpsuit clung to her curves and matched the color of her lipstick She looked like a goddess of fire, and her heat incinerated him, burning through skin and bone to reveal the secrets he’d tucked away in the darkest corner of his psyche. Tearing them out of their hiding place and handing them to Farrah, one by one, had been akin to tearing out pieces of his soul.

But as painful and anxiety-inducing as writing his previous notes had been, they didn’t compare to the one Blake clutched in his hands.

Kris cleared her throat. “I’m going to check on the other guests. If you want privacy, you can use the library.” She tilted her head toward the door to Blake’s right before leaving.

Gratitude bloomed in Blake’s chest. He hadn’t expected Kris to help him. They hadn’t spoken in years, and she hadn’t exactly left Shanghai with a great impression of him. He supposed he had Olivia to thank for Kris’s reluctant assistance.

Olivia had taken pity on him after seeing him wait outside her and Farrah’s building for months and offered to help. She’d tipped him off to the fact that Farrah would be at Kris’s NYE party and convinced Kris to add him to the guest list.

Blake could’ve waited until Farrah returned to New York, but according to Olivia, that wouldn’t be until mid-January, and he couldn’t wait that long. He was already dying a little more inside each day as it was. So, he flew home to Austin for Christmas, where he had a long, hard talk with his family about Cleo. They’d been shocked but had taken the news of Cleo’s lies better than he’d expected. They’d mostly worried about whether he was okay, which touched a part of him he hadn’t known existed.

The past was the past, and Blake could finally put it behind him.

Now, there was only one major piece of his life he needed to fix.

“Let’s talk inside.” Farrah brushed by him and walked into the library; Blake followed, his body taut with anticipation.

He’d landed in L.A. last night and spent most of today pacing his room, working out in the hotel gym to rid himself of restless energy, and taking care of business stuff. It was New Year’s Eve, one of the biggest nights for the nightlife industry. During the past few months, Blake had kept on top of his company via email, phone calls, and day meetings, but he’d delegated site visits—including for the Miami rollout—to Patricia. It’d been the only way he could pursue Farrah without disappearing for days at a time every few weeks.

Farrah leaned against the marble fireplace and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you doing here?” She was shaking, or maybe that was his hope talking.

She still cared about him. Her freak-out when