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“I got you something.” He sticks his hand into his breast pocket and takes out a flat, white velvet box.
My mood plummets. “I got you nothing.” I was too nervous about looking good and psyching myself up for a night out in public. It never even occurred to me to get him a gift.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not anything crazy.” Jace pops the box open and shows me a simple diamond pendant—a tiny circle of white gold with crumbs of diamonds. My breath hitches. He’s serious about us. He’d have to be to give me gifts like this.
“It may be nothing crazy to you, but…” I don’t know if I should tell him what’s on my mind. In the end, I decide to trust him. Jace isn’t flashy. He’s not doing any of this to impress me. I believe he’s trying to show he’s all in. “This is the nicest a date has ever been to me.” My previous “boyfriends” didn’t even try to spoil me, knowing it’d be difficult to compete with my family’s wealth.
“I’m sorry about that,” Jace says, his eyes icy with condemnation of everyone who’s come and gone before him.
I take off my silver necklace, let him secure his pendant around my neck, and kiss him in the corner of his mouth, hoping to dispel his darkened mood. “Let’s go before Mom jumps out with a camera—”
“Not so fast!” Her voice rings from the main door.
I sigh. “Too late.”
Jace chuckles. “What? You don’t want more ridiculous pictures of us?”
To be honest, I do. I want all of them, so we pose for Mom and the instant camera she must’ve bought specifically for this occasion.
“You’re too adorable,” she gushes and hands us a print each. In the photo, tiny, precious diamonds glitter on my chest, and Jace has his arm wrapped around me as he kisses me on the cheek. I’ve never looked happier before. I’m not a rebound anymore. I’m a girlfriend. Jace’s girlfriend. He doesn’t care about my family or my past.
Driving away, I’m unable to stop looking at the photo. I can’t stop myself from pondering our possible future either. If he comes around about our song, I’d be okay with being an active musician again. With him. The idea fills me with the sharpest dread, but it’s easy to dismiss it when I glance at Jace behind the wheel. He’s calm. He’s confident. Most of the time he does his best to respect my boundaries. We could’ve met a long time ago, and tonight I regret hiding for so long.
“That will not do,” Jace chides me. “Put that thing away”—he points at the photo—“and talk to me. I feel like I’ve ticked you off somehow.”
Laughing, I stick the photograph into my wristlet wallet and do my best to make sure he knows I’m not upset. I couldn’t be if I wanted to.
Jace takes me to the most peculiar restaurant tucked away in the depths of Portland, next to many casual eateries and busy streets. We arrive with pomp and circumstance, drawing many eyes to us with Jace’s bright and expensive car. He gives me a reassuring look, then drops a pair of stylish shades onto his nose and steps out to open the door for me. I pop my own sunglasses on and forbid my limbs to quiver. The hype about me is over. Even at Briar’s party some people asked me for a confirmation of my identity, and they were supposed to be familiar with most faces in the industry. These random strangers won’t recognize me.
Nothing matters at all when I take Jace’s warm, strong hand and step out into the world. He is my world.
“You’re not hyperventilating,” he murmurs after the valet takes our ride away. “That’s a good sign.”
I elbow him in the side. “I’m fine.”
He squeezes my hand. “Good. If that changes, you don’t have to endure it, okay?”
“Okay.” I love him. He’ll poke fun at me and coax me into craziness, but he always remembers that my way is valid too.
The restaurant hides behind a wall of shrubbery. A small booth for the valets is the only indicator that something could be there at all. We enter a courtyard with two lampposts casting even light onto light brown pavers. I hold the door for Jace this time, getting him to roll his eyes, much to my pleasure.
We’re seated at a table on the back deck. The restaurant is packed throughout the evening, but the deck remains empty. For a second, I wonder whether Jace has paid off the staff to keep the deck clear. Battling my nerves, which settle down as the evening progresses, and laughing at Jace’s endless quips don’t leave a lot of mental space for anything else. I almost don’t notice what we eat. Apart from dessert. Chocolate-dipped strawberries with morsels of the most heavenly cheesecake stuffed inside them imprint on my mind—I drop one on my dress thanks to yet another joke from my date.
“Look what you did,” I scold him, wiping at the mark left by the chocolate. It goes away without a fight, thank goodness.
“I’m sorry.” He purses his lips in a mock-repentant pout.
“You’re not.”
“I am. I didn’t mean to ruin your dress. How are you feeling?”
“Still okay.”
Our hands are resting next to each other on top of the small, round table. I take advantage of it. For a few seconds, his eyes home in on my fingertip tracing eights on the back of his palm. I’m beyond curious about his indecipherable facial expression.
“What’s the plan for after dinner?” I ask.
Jace looks up. Hints of desire spark to life in his eyes, but he immediately straightens up and moves his hand away, and I… I’d better not think too much into anything.
