Page 16 of Take Two

“He’s not a mystery anymore,” I continue.

“No,” Julian agrees. “He’s not.”

After a few seconds, Julian says, “You never know, Cy. Fate has a funny way of doing exactly whatever it wants, regardless of your opinion on the matter.”

I laugh despite myself and shake my head. “Look at you getting philosophical.”

“Look at me being married and mature and generally an evolved human being.” He says it with the particular note of smug satisfaction that means he is enjoying this tremendously. I can practically hear him sitting back in whatever chair he’s in, thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Look at all the drama it took to get there,” I reply, because we’re far enough from it now that we can look back at the whole catastrophic, beautiful mess of it with something approaching affection.

“Oh, that’s cold.” He laughs, unconcerned.

“You married Malik Carter,” I say. “The enemy.”

There is a beat of silence. Perfectly timed.

Then Julian starts laughing so hard I have to pull the phone away from my ear again, and I find myself grinning at the leather seat in front of me like an idiot.

“Okay,” he finally manages. “That one was fair.”

“I know.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he says, and beneath the laughter there is something genuine and uncomplicated, the kind of easy love that comes from years and history and understanding someone well enough to know when to push and when to simply be there. I wish, suddenly and with some force, that he was sitting beside me.

“I hear that a lot,” I say, clearing my throat.

Julian laughs again, warm and unhurried. “Alright, smartass. I’ve got a recording session in twenty minutes, and unlike some people, I actually have to be prepared for the things on my schedule.”

“And I’ve apparently got a mystery meeting tomorrow,” I say, checking my watch, wondering where Jasper is and when exactly he’s going to call and explain what me being here is all about.

“Call me later and tell me everything Jasper is plotting.”

“I will.”

“I love you, Cy.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, quiet and real. “Love you too, Jules.”

The call disconnects. I lower the phone to my lap and sit with the silence for a moment before it starts vibrating again.

I glance down at the screen.

Jasper Lewis.

I stare at his name for a moment, considering the particular energy it takes to deal with Jasper when he’s in a state, and then swipe to answer.

“Well,” I mutter as I lift the phone. “No rest for the wicked.”

“Jasper,” I say.

“Cyaire, are you sitting down?”

I stare at the phone for a moment with the expression of a man being asked a profoundly unnecessary question.

“Hello to you too,” I say, with exaggerated offense.

“Cyaire,” he replies, deploying my name in the tone that implies I am somehow the unreasonable one in this exchange.