“Six years.”
He nodded and watched a waiter, who popped out like he was going to sneak a smoke break, only to see them, scurry away.
“I was kind of an ass when we met.” She twisted her lips to the side sheepishly.
“When we met? I don’t think you were. You were in a bad place.”
“I meant when you were subpoenaed, and I was… definitely an ass.” Her self-deprecating laugh slipped between them.
Rhys smiled. “I wouldn’t say you were an ass.”
“Then what was I?”
“More like…” What was she like? Scared. Angry. Violated. Her birthday party wasn’t the right place to remind her of that hell.
“Like?” she pressed.
The silence stretched as he tried to find the right words, but they still didn’t surface. “Stressed.”
Jules seemed to work that over before nodding.
“You forgive me yet?” Rhys didn’t know why he’d asked. He’d never needed absolution from a principal before. He glanced over.
A sad smile pulled her lips down. “It’s harder than it used to be to stay angry with you.”
“Is that so, Miss Grudge Holder?” His lips twitched. “You still rather I perjure myself and sit in jail?”
“Am I going to be a spoiled nepo baby if I say yes?”
“A thousand percent, sweetheart.”
She laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m a spoiled grudge holder, but I’m working on it.” She kicked her legs off the chaise and joined him by the side of the balcony. “Do you ever look at all these lights and wonder who lives there, if they’re happy, why they’re sad? So many would kill for what I have, then I think about what I’m missing, and I feel empty. Hollow.”
His brow wrinkled. Rhys looked at her as she stared into the distance. Maybe holding grudges protected her from the trauma that still haunted her. If so, she could hold on to that grudge. He’d gladly take her anger if it helped. “You okay, Jules?”
She painted on a fake smile from her collection of bullshit expressions that she hid behind. “Sure.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
“Birthdays make me a little philosophical. Maybe I’m just growing up. Another year older, another year wiser?”
His twenties hadn’t looked anything like he’d thought they would. She was halfway through hers and had been through so much. Rhys studied the lights below then dropped his head back to take in the night. The stars didn’t shine here. The bright moon and sprawling city shone too brightly. They dulled the diamond sparkle of the stars, the real showstopper, until most were barely visible. “It’s not passing time that makes you wiser. It’s what you’ve survived.”
Her emerald eyes found his. “Do you think I’ve survived? Even if I don’t trust a soul?”
“You trust Abs.”
“Besides Abigail,” she tacked on.
He waited a beat, then told her the truth. “I think you’ve flourished.”
Chapter Ten
Present Day
Tropical lo-fi vibes hummed through the bungalow’s hidden speakers. Essential oils with hints of tea tree and eucalyptus scented the living room, where two massage tables had displaced the accent chairs.
Lying on her stomach next to Abigail, Jules held her cell phone to her ear, listening to Sloane’s ridiculous idea, as a masseuse kneaded her calf muscle. “Ask me later. I’m half drunk, semicovered in oil, and far more persuadable than normal.”
