Page 107 of The Breakup Artists

And somehow we’ve moved closer, both of us leaning toward one another like we’re sharing a secret.

“You asked me what I wanted you to do... what would make me happy,” she says, and it’s barely a whisper. “I want you to keep spending time with me.”

And with that simple sentence I forget about the case, about Holden, about everything, and like she’s an undeniable force stronger than gravity, I reach out for her, lightly brushing the star constellation on her cheek with my thumb. She leans into my hand, her eyes momentarily closing. And we’re close, so close that I can feel her breath and smell her peach lip gloss.

Suddenly, a door slams and we both launch apart. And there, standing next to his Porsche, is Ella’s father.

“Shit,” she says and jumps out of the Jeep.

Shitdoesn’t even begin to describe it.

“You should probably go,” she says, not able to meet my eyes as she closes the door. And to make matters worse, her dad is staring at me like he might order a hit man. I put the Jeep in reverse, reluctant to drive away from her, but knowing I have no choice.

51

valentine

August lies on my bed, surrounded by my discarded dress options.

“What about this one?” I ask.

He props himself up on one elbow. “Great.”

“That’s what you said about the last three.”

“They’re all great.”

“Ugh. I swear, August, that’s not helpful. I don’t need great; I need wow. Like, a whole lotta wow. People are going to start showing up soon.”

“By ‘people,’ you mean Bentley.”

I give him an “I mean business” glare. “Don’t even think about starting in on him. I have way too many jitters as it is. So if you insist on going down this road, I will sucker punch you into submission.”

The corners of his mouth tilt up. For a second, he’s silent, and then he sighs out his resignation. “The white one with the low back.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“I was secretly hoping you’d pick that one.” I beam, snatching it off my vanity chair.

I step into my bathroom to get changed, and when I come out, he’s lying with his hands folded behind his head, dreamily staring at nothing.

“Thinking about the case?” I ask, even though I know without a doubt that he’s thinking about Ella. August doesn’t dreamily stare. Ever.

“I just can’t believe you got Amber and Justin on tape,” he says.

I plop down at my vanity and unzip my makeup bag. “I know. Craziest thing ever. I found the pot of gold; I’m basically a leprechaun. Too bad we can’t use it without blowing our cover and the case with it. There’s no way to explain why I recorded it.”

August sighs. “Do you think Amber will follow through on her threat to tell Ella?”

I lean close to the mirror as I put on eyeliner. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe? I’d say most people wouldn’t throw themselves under the bus like that. But if she’s angry enough with Justin, it’s possible she’d do it just to get back at him.”

August stares at my ceiling like he’s doing mental calculus.

“Of course, with a little prodding and planning on our part,” I continue, “I think we can get Amber to admit it. It’ll wrap up this case in a neat little bow.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but his heart isn’t in it.