“Must be tough.” Farrah laughed when Sammy punched her in the arm.
“It’s all fun and games until you accidentally open one of the pictures in front of your three-year-old niece,” Sammy grumbled. “My sister nearly impaled me with her nail file. Besides, I don’t like the attention. I just want to bake my croissants in peace. I don’t know how Kris deals with this shit.”
“Too late now. You’re a star, baby,” Farrah sang. “Kris deals with it because she’s Kris. She’ll clock any paparazzi that comes too close.”
“True.”
Kris Carrera, another friend from study abroad, was engaged to Nate Reynolds, one of Hollywood’s hottest stars and a paparazzi favorite.
“Have you kept in touch with anyone else from FEA?” Farrah stirred her drink, now watered down from the ice.
“Pretty much everyone in the group except for—” Sammy stopped short.
Olivia.
The name hung in the air, unspoken, like a guillotine waiting to drop.
Farrah felt a pang in her heart. There’d been a time when Sammy and Olivia were the couple. Their relationship made it out of FEA intact—the only one in their group to do so—only to implode a few months later. Farrah had been in New York with them, but even now, she wasn’t sure what happened. Sammy and Olivia refused to talk about it.
How could two people go from being so in love to hating each other’s guts so quickly?
Then again, Farrah of all people knew how much things could change in the space of minutes.
“Have you kept in touch with Blake?” The question fell out, unbidden.
Sammy’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Yeah, a little. Why?”
“Well…” Farrah debated whether to tell him about her new project. She didn’t want discussion of Blake to hijack the night, but she needed a sounding board beyond Olivia, and there weren’t many people who knew what had happened between her and Blake in Shanghai. “I’m kind of, um, working for him.”
“What?”
Farrah filled Sammy in on the details.
“Wow.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “What are the odds?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m over him,” Farrah said quickly. “It’s been five years. It’s just weird.”
“Mmhmm.” Sammy surveyed her with a shrewd eye. “You’re sure you’re over him?”
Pretty sure.
She chalked the way her heart pounded when she caught sight of the elephant figurine up to surprise. As for the heat that licked at her skin when she’d imagined all the things she wanted to do to Blake in that big bed of his…well, that was nothing a night with her battery-operated boyfriend couldn’t sort out.
“Totally sure.”
Sammy appeared unconvinced. “Maybe this is a sign,” he mused. “For you to bury the hatchet and move on. You can be friends again.”
Farrah snorted. “Right.”
They could be civil, but friends? She didn’t think so. It was hard to be friends with someone who broke your heart.
“Hey, I’m not making excuses for Blake. He did a shitty thing in Shanghai. But we all make mistakes—some bigger than others—and deep down, he’s a good guy. Like you said, it’s been five years. You don’t have to marry him; just give him a chance to prove he’s changed. It’ll make your life easier, considering you’ll be working together.”
Farrah pondered Sammy’s advice. It sounded similar to what Blake said earlier.
She wasn’t angry about what happened in Shanghai anymore. She used to be. God, she’d been pissed. But the anger had iced over as the years passed, leaving behind a thick wariness no man had been able to penetrate. Her relationship with Blake had proved fairytale love existed in real life, but it also proved that every fairytale had a dark side, that happily ever afters sometimes came with less-than-happy epilogues, and that the One Big Love could crush your heart as easily as they stole it.
Anyway, it wasn’t like Farrah was in danger of falling in love again. In lust, maybe. But that was a whole other matter.
“You’re way too nice. You know that?”
Sammy ruffled her hair, causing her to scowl. “Just dispensing my daily dose of wisdom. Forgiveness makes the world go round and all that.”
“Does that apply to Olivia?” she asked hopefully, smoothing a hand over her tousled locks. She was opening a can of worms by mentioning her roommate’s name, but she was sick of this cold war between her friends. Sammy thought she and Blake needed to make up? He and Olivia needed to make up. Stat.
Sammy’s smile fell. Tension crowded his shoulders, and a steel edge crept into his voice. “It’s not the same.”
Most of the time, he was the same good-natured, easygoing Sammy from their younger years. But like everyone else in the group, he’d hardened over time. More secrets, more bitterness, more cynicism—especially when it came to past heartbreaks.
“Why not?”
Sammy set his jaw. “It just isn’t.”
Farrah knew when she was fighting a losing battle. She changed the subject, not wanting to ruin their reunion. “How long are you in town for?”
She’d been pleasantly surprised when she received Sammy’s text while she’d been at Blake’s apartment. She hadn’t known he was in New York, but it was a nice distraction from the unsettling chemistry that burned between her and Blake.
Chemistry, like coincidence, was a bitch who couldn’t read the room.
Sammy relaxed. “I leave tomorrow morning. Sorry for the late notice today, by the way—I’m in town for business and didn’t think I’d have time to meet up, but my meeting tonight got canceled.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s always nice to see you.”
They stayed at the bar and chatted until the happy hour crowd thinned and gave way to the night owl set, but Farrah could tell neither of their hearts was in it. Their conversation had dredged up memories best left forgotten, and every once in a while, their sentences would taper off as they stared at their drinks, both lost in memories of what used to be.
Chapter Eight
“We’re not installing a shark tank.”
“Why not? Ice-T has one,” Blake protested. “I saw it on an MTV Cribs rerun. Besides, I’m the client. If I want a shark tank, I should get a shark tank.”
Farrah huffed in exasperation. “First, you should not be taking life inspiration from Ice-T. Second, you’re right. You’re the client and if you want a shark tank, I’ll get you a shark tank. But it kind of goes against the understated theme you want, don’t you think?”
Blake shrugged. “It’ll be a statement piece?” He hid a grin at the annoyed look on Farrah’s face.
Annoyance was good. It was a step up from indifference.
“I’m kidding,” he said, taking mercy on her. “We can scrap the shark tank.”
Blake and Farrah sat on a bench by Central Park’s Bethesda Fountain, poring over the sketches she’d put together for his condo. He was the one who’d suggested they meet in the park instead of at a cafe or his apartment. It was a beautiful day, and he hoped the casual atmosphere would encourage her to lower her guard.