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“Ah.” Juliette smiles. “That. Well, you weren’t the first one to do so.” She steps closer. “You like Jace, right?”
I nod. It turns me inside out to be this open with her, my attempts to build peaceful bridges notwithstanding.
“Do you trust him? I mean, do you trust him when he says he loves you, or do you worry about me?”
I glance out the door. The living room is out of sight, and the guys and her parents sound busy with pies and Jacie. I lower my voice. “Sometimes.”
Juliette stands right in front of me. “Don’t. He’s all yours. Don’t worry about our friendship. Be a part of it instead.”
My lungs put breathing on pause. What is she saying? This is too easy.
“How can you…”
Fear and caution flicker through Juliette’s eyes.
“How can you accept me like this?” I hurry to clarify before she misunderstands.
“Would you prefer we had a war? That would be interesting.” She rubs her chin. “Putting Jace through the wringer he put me through with Shane? I should give it some thought.”
The way she’s scheming, playful, right now, she and Jace could have come from one family for sure.
Juliette shakes her head. “Laurel, don’t we have better things to do?”
“Jules!” Jace hollers from the living room. “What’s taking so long?”
“He’s so rowdy with you,” I say with a smile.
“He’s intolerable.” She rolls her eyes the same way I would about Hal. “What do you say? Can we be friends?”
“I’d like to try.” I will do my best.
Juliette beams. “Thank you.”
It’s a win for both of us, but I feel stabbed in the heart by her gratitude. She’s too nice.
A few minutes later, I’m sporting the same shirt as Jace and his friends. Gabe, who’s not only a stellar cook and a menacing agent but also a pro photographer, arranges us in front of the Christmas tree for a micro photo shoot. Uncertainty and excitement tug at me from two directions. I’m not their family. Jace and I have barely made up. There is no guarantee we won’t break up again, for good, but I’m embedded in their memories. I’m treated like I’m one of them. Jace threads his arm through mine and acts like he will never let go. I feel like I’ll stop existing if he does.
Gabe shows us some previews. The photos are silly and funny and heartwarming. The Christmas tree creates a cozy backdrop, the light hits our faces just right, and Jace has that look on his face, the one that’s a clear sign he has learned the meaning ofsmitten. I’m not any better. I’m gooey-eyed in every shot, and downright melted, eyes closed, in a photo where he is laughing at something, looking over my head, but I have my cheek pressed against his shoulder. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Can I tag you, Shane?” Sitting on the armrest of the couch, I’m composing a post on my revived Insta account using one of our selfies I took with my phone while Gabe fiddled with his professional camera.
“Only if you agree to be the Venom Guitars ambassador,” he quips.
I look up from my phone. His impish expression implies he’s joking, but…
“You still want me to be your ambassador?”
“Yes. You and Jace both are all over the media right now. The moment is great, and the momentum would be amazing.”
“You mean to say profitable,” Jace interjects, already working on another pie.
“All right. Yes, profitable,” Shane admits.
“Okay,” I say.
Shane stares at me. “Really?”
Jace does too, his expression a lot less surprised and a lot more upset.
