Page 20 of Waiting for You

"Don't stress the timing. Just travel safe."

"Will do. Goodnight, Xavier."

"Goodnight."

I tapped the red icon, ending the call.

Right behind me, someone cleared their throat.

I turned.

Sloane stood a few feet away on the concrete, a coat draped over her bare arm, wearing a locked-down smile.

"Sneaking out early?"

"I am."

"Same." She fussed with the fabric of her coat, adjusting folds that didn't need it. "We've got a brutal early call time tomorrow."

"The main event."

"Right."

I gave a stiff nod. "You pulled off a brilliant vision in there, by the way. The whole room was stunning."

"I appreciate that."

She studied her coat, then dragged her gaze back up to my face.

"You were right earlier, you know," she said.

I held still, waiting for the trap to spring.

"It's been eight years." Her voice eased. "Carrying this tension around is just stupid. We're both functioning adults. We should move past it. Maybe even try a friendship."

I'd fed her those same lines at the banquet table without meaning a single one of them. I'd wanted her to crack, to confess that the years without me had been a living hell, that mailing that brutal letter had torn her up the same way reading it had wrecked me.

Instead she stood on the sidewalk, parroting my own indifferent lie right back at me.

Something splintered in my chest, fracturing along the same fault lines she'd cut the day I opened her package.

"Alright," I said, swallowing the bile in my throat. "Friends."

Her face broke into a brilliant smile, the one that crinkled her eyes, and I wished hard that I hadn't agreed to this.

"So when did you start collecting the ink?" I gestured to her bare arms, changing the subject.

She glanced down at her scattered tattoos, the tension bleeding out of her posture as a quiet, unguarded fondness touched her lips. "Gradually. Over the years. A few pieces at a time, whenever the mood struck."

"They suit you."

Her eyes darted up, searching my face. "You think so?"

"The Sloane I fell in love with was always going to get inked eventually." I let my eyes trace the artwork before settling back on hers. "I'm glad you finally did."

She held my stare, her breath going shallow, before her eyes dropped to the pavement and she retreated to a safe, neutral distance.

"I take it your father had nothing kind to say about the new look?" I asked.