I heaved a sigh of relief.

She looked well and safe. Heading for her, I noticed she had her eyes closed and music blaring through the earphones. I leaned over her, figuring she’d notice my presence. She didn’t stir.

“Sylvie?” I squeezed her arm gently.

Her blue eyes flew open and she almost jumped in her lounger. For an instant, fear crossed her face before she recognized me and then she smiled, which was quickly replaced by a mask of anger. She was truly madly furious.

“What the fuck, Brooke! You scared the living shit out of me. Where have you been?” she shouted.

I pointed at her earphones. She removed them but her angry expression didn’t change.

“Where have you been?” she repeated. “I had to call the police. I didn’t know what to do.”

Her eyes were wide with fear and there were dark circles beneath them.

“Oh my god. You did what?” I sat down and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, fearing the worst—that someone threatened her and hurt her. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m not okay.” Pausing, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as though to calm herself. “When your best friend goes missing in a place God-knows-where and you’re expected to communicate in a language you don’t speak, obviously you’re scared out of your mind.” Her finger jabbed my chest as her eyes spew fire at me. “You call. You act like an adult and let your best friend know where you are. You don’t freaking bail.”

I had never seen her like this. Angry. Hurt. Vulnerable.

“You have a funny way of showing,” I said, pointing at the cocktail in her hand.

“Yeah, well. Whatever shit you’re going through, it’s easier when you’re half drunk.” She wrapped the long cord of her headphones around her iPhone, her voice still raw with emotion. “Music’s the only thing that helps me switch off from imagining all the things that could have happened to you.”

Drawing her close to me, I hugged her whispering, “I’m sorry.” I truly hoped she could hear the remorse in my voice. I was horribly sorry for inflicting that much worry upon her.

Sylvie shook her head angrily, rubbing away the moisture in her eyes. “I thought something bad happened to you.” She sounded upset but her tone had calmed down a little.

“I’m so sorry, Sylvie. I know I should have called but you were supposed to get a text message and—”

The hard edge in my voice made her look up.

“I got a text message which sounded nothing like you. What happened?” She eyed me up and down suspiciously. Her X-ray gaze brushed over my face and crumbled clothes. “Where were you?”

The moment I had been dreading had come. Okay, where to start?

Good question, Stewart. What about the beginning?

I took a long steadying breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes fell on the watch and sure enough her jaw dropped.

“Oh my god.” I could almost see her brain working. The moment she put two and two together, her frown changed into a scowl. “You went out with a guy! Please tell me I’m wrong.”

She narrowed her eyes at me as she scanned my face, her jaw dropping further.

“You didn’t, Brooke.”

I nodded.

“You little –britch. Who is it?”

Whenever Sylvie was extremely happy or angry with me, she called me ‘britch.’ It all dated back to the day we were invited to her boring cousin’s wedding. It was all a big traditional yawn, so Sylvie and I had the idea to ditch the party in favor of Sylvie’s backstage passes to a gig—and a musician guy she had been dying to meet. Happy with my offer but also feeling guilty to miss her cousin’s party, Sylvie had combined the words ‘bride’ with ‘bitch’, calling me a ‘britch.’ It was a whole different story or maybe not so different now, considering I ditched her to meet Jett in secret.

“Uh.” I couldn’t even look into her eyes. “There’s a lot I didn’t tell you.”

Fighting for words, I almost expected another of Sylvie’s famous outbursts. What I got instead was a stare with a glint in her eyes that screamed trouble.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was so low I wasn’t sure I heard right. “Oh my god. You’re dating him again.”

“Sylvie—” I raised my hand to stop her and let me explain but she cut me off.

“The signs were there. I should have known no one changes their depressed mood out of the blue. All this time I thought you were moving on, while you were hooking up with Jett.”

I could pretend she was wrong and bide myself time, but was the point in lying?

“How did you figure it out?” I asked, grinning. I should have felt guilty, but I couldn’t help myself. Just hearing Jett’s name coming out of Sylvie’s mouth and her look—her priceless scorn—made me smile.

“Come here.” She wrapped her arms around me. “You silly, silly cow! How could you think just for one minute I wouldn’t notice how deeply and madly you’re in love with him?”

“Is it that obvious?” I whispered.

Nodding, she laughed. “Even if I was blind, I’d still sense that stupid grin on your face every time you think no one’s looking.”

I laughed with her because she was right. Jett did that to me even when he wasn’t around.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She shrugged, not asking what for. There were so many reasons. Like the fact that she kept proving time after time that she was the best friend in the world. We laughed until our eyes shimmered with tears—and still couldn’t stop. It was almost like it used to be when were younger and in my case careless. All the stupid things we did and how we stuck together through every single mistake. The good, the bad, and the outrageous.

Just like now.

Chapter 17

After a quick shower and changing into a clean pair of jeans and a sleeveless shirt, I joined Sylvie in the backyard. We talked for an hour straight, during which I recalled the car chase in minuscule detail. Much to my surprise Sylvie came to terms with Jett being here to help me. She asked questions about Jett’s reports, Alessandro’s past, and even about how I felt about Jett being back in my life. She wanted to make sure I was okay, and that I was happy. When she suggested inviting Jett over for dinner, my jaw almost dropped. I’ll admit her sudden enthusiasm scared me, but it was also important to me that Sylvie accepted Jett and forgave him, not least because I didn’t want to hide anything from her.

We were lounging by the pool. A soft red tint covered my naked arms and shoulders while Sylvie showed a healthy golden glow that would soon turn into the most gorgeous tan, building a beautiful contrast to her blond hair and stunning blue eyes. Knowing about the estate and the car chase, she didn’t seem as scared as I thought she’d be.

“I’m glad we talked,” I said. “Keeping secrets from you felt terrible. I’m not good at that.”

“To be honest, I already suspected something was wrong.” Sylvie leaned forward and squeezed my hand gently. “I just didn’t want to push you, because you were in a bad place. I reckoned you’d tell me at some point.”

“Yeah.” I wished I had done it much earlier.

She pushed her sunglasses back on her head, a quizzical look on her face. “Are you and Jett back together? Like, officially?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, “We haven’t talked about it. We’re dating and he told me his feelings once, so we might be getting serious.” I shrugged as though it didn’t matter. But it did. A lot. I wanted serious. Ever since meeting him it had become one of my favorite words.

“Might be?” She snorted. “If a guy talks feelings after you’ve had sex, he wants to be with you. There’s no doubt about that.”

“I guess,” I muttered.

Something in my tone made her tilt her head. Maybe I didn’t come across as enthusiastic or confident as one would expect.

“Does he know how you feel about him?” Sylvie asked.

Staring at the sparkling blue water, I shook my head.

“Why? What’s the problem?”

I smiled grimly. Sylvie and I were so close and yet opposites. She knew a bit about my past and I about hers, but she denied everything she’d rather keep buried. How could I explain to her my rules about love and relationships without going into detail about what drove me to think that way? To love someone so deeply is to risk losing yourself forever. Once I admitted my feelings to him, there was no going back—no hope to ever make my heart complete without him.

“He’s amazing, but—” I hesitated, my throat constricting at the thought of a future together. “I want to be with him but sometimes when I see him, I feel like I’m standing on a cliff, knowing there is no way to go but down.”

I bit my lip, pondering how much I could say without giving too much away.

“Right now I’m happy with how things are. It’s going great. The way I see it Jett doesn’t need to know how I feel.”

Sylvie smiled and squeezed my hand. “Sweetie, love’s meant to be shared. Maybe it won’t last forever. But who cares? Every story has an ending. You can’t stop after one chapter just because you don’t know how it ends. If you love him, you should at least give it a chance. What’s worse than loss?”

“Regret,” I whispered, thinking back to all the times she had drilled into me just how great of a bitch regret was and why I should take risks rather than live in my safe bubble. “You’re right.”

“I know that. Do you?” Her brows shot up.

I did. And yet the demons inside my head kept roaring. They were the ones who kept telling me it wouldn’t end well. It hadn’t for my parents. Nor Jett’s parents. Nor Sylvie’s. Why would I encounter a different fate?

“Think about it,” Sylvie said gently.

Nodding, I fought back the moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes and decided to change the topic. “Has Clarkson called?”

Sylvie shook her head and squeezed into her clothes—cropped jeans and an oversized tee that fell off her shoulder. “No, but a letter arrived this morning. I left it on the kitchen table. It’s the financial reports you requested. Wanna have a look at them now?”

I wanted to ask how she knew what the letter contained, but decided against it. “Sure. I’ve turned into a lobster anyway.”

As we returned to the house I noticed the dark clouds gathering in the distance. The soft breeze from before turned into a strong gust blowing up the leaves, and the air carried the scent of oncoming rain. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago the air had been so hot it had reminded me of a desert.

We entered through the backdoor and I locked it behind us. I scanned the kitchen area. It looked spotless, like Sylvie didn’t use it, which was strange because she usually ordered portions that could feed a family of four—and didn’t gain a pound. Maybe she had been too worried to eat. The thought ignited my guilt again.