“Jude!” Chance jogs out to the drive. His gaze lands on mine, eyes wide and expectant. “Jude, wait!”
“What?” My pulse races at his wild expression. Maybe it’s something with Aubrey?
“You need to get upstairs. Now.” There’s no question in his voice.
I shake my head, confused.
“Room 612. Here’s the key.”
“Chance. I’m not in the mood.” I push away the key he offers. There’s no way. I’m not sleeping with anyone, let alone some celebrity hookup.
“Mate.” His voice is stern. His scowl fierce. “You don’t understand. You need to be in this hotel room. You’ll regret it the rest of your life if you don’t.” There’s something in his delivery that catches my attention. Plants a seed of faith in my heart. It’s almost too much to hope for.
I lift my gaze; my lips part but words escape me.
He nods, as if he understands. “612. Go get her back.”
This time I take the card when he shoves it in my hand. I nearly trip over my feet as I race back inside the hotel. Not caring how insane I must appear, I run through the lobby, only stopping briefly to ride the elevator. My chest heaves and I’m out of breath when I stop in front of the door marked 612. Fuck, I’m out of shape. And nervous. My hands shake as I scan the key on the door and turn the handle to open it.
There she is. “Rachel.” Her name falls from my lips as a whisper. A prayer. A promise.
“Jude.” She smiles, but it’s reserved. Timid. She’s wearing one of my favorite dresses. The wrap kind that hugs all her curves. Her makeup is perfect, no surprise there, and her wide eyes don’t leave mine as I step inside. “You came.”
“How could I not?”
She swallows thickly. “I didn’t want to disrupt your party, or your big moment, but I couldn’t go another day.”
It’s almost too much to hope for. “Another day?”
“Without you.”
“Rachel.” I want to fall to my knees. I want to cry in relief. I want to pull her in my arms.
“I have something I want you to see.” She blows out a long exhale, her lips twitching with a nervous smile. “Please tell me you have your phone with you.”
“I do.” I pull it from my jacket and hand it over. She pulls up YouTube and before I can ask, she hands it back. It’s her, and this is her channel. I turn up the volume as the headline of the video fills the screen.How to create the perfect I’m sorry, I love you, evening look.
My stomach does a little flip, and emotion fills my chest. I glance at Rachel as her face fills the screen, and take a seat on the edge of the sofa.
“Hey, Rae here with all your makeup and beauty tips.”She’s sitting in front of a white wall, bright lights illuminating her face, and a mirror to one side. The dark circles under her eyes make her appear tired, but even without any makeup she’s beautiful.“Tonight’s episode is a little different than my usual format. Let’s get started. First, we’re going to apply our foundation, concealing the pesky circles under my eyes.”
The video shows her dabbing a beige liquid onto the soft skin beneath her eyes.“Mine are really bad, because I haven’t been sleeping. See, I kinda hurt someone I love, because he hurt me too.”
My gaze snaps up to Rachel—the one standing five feet away. She bites at the corner of her lower lip and points at the phone, encouraging me to watch.
On screen she blends the color until her foundation is flawless. She presses her lips together, assessing her work before setting down the foam square.“And instead of communicating or listening to my heart, I let my past and the fear of getting hurt be my guide. I messed things up. Badly. And I hope he’ll forgive me.”
She holds a palatte up to the camera.“Which is why I’m going with a natural look. I’m choosing these colors because they’re subtle and work with my skin tone, but feel free to change it up. I also won’t be applying any mascara or eyeliner—and I know, how can that be?”She gasps dramatically.
My lips pull to a smile.
“But this could go badly. Even after I tell him how much I love him, that I don’t want another day to go by that I don’t talk to him, or how all I want is a second chance to love him better. Well, he could say he’s moved on, and that would make me cry. If my heart’s broken, the least I can do is not look like a wild raccoon!”
I glance from the Rachel on the phone screen to the one in front of me. Her eyes are wide, glistening with unshed tears, but full of hope. My heart hammers in my chest. She loves me. She wants to be together. She wants to give us another chance.
“I’m also going to go with a sheer lip gloss. Because I have high hopes for kissing, and most guys don’t appreciate looking like a clown after a make-out sesh.”
She wants a kiss. She wants me. I drop the phone to the couch, shoving to my feet, and taking a step toward her. With each inhale, my chest feels a little lighter. Each move forward, like I’m righting a wrong.
