“Bullshit!” Jax laughs. “I’m older, wiser, and a better artist.”
“Nah.” Jase cackles. “Just older.” He gives me another look, and I know I need to get out of here. My body and heart aren’t accepting what my head knows. Jase is bad for me. He’s a lying, cheating, asshole.
“I really need to get going,” I announce, turning for the door. I give Giselle a hug and wish her a Happy Birthday. Olivia tries to stop me, but I tell her I have an early morning meeting and promise we’ll do lunch this week.
Then I give Jax a quick hug. I’m not sure why. I think maybe it’s because he’s the only person in his family not acting like I’m in the wrong. “It was nice to see you again,” I tell him before I run out the door. Nick, of course, follows after me, demanding to know what’s going on.
“I’m just upset that I didn’t know Jase works here!”
Nick gives me a confused look. “You just said in there that you don’t know him, so why would you even care where he works?” He’s right. I know he is. I’m being ridiculous and throwing this way out of proportion. I know I am. But I can’t help it. Every emotion, every painful feeling I’ve worked my ass off to bury is being dug up, and I can’t stop it from happening. For every shovelful I throw back into the grave, two more are flying out and landing on my feet.
“We…” The need to confide in Nick is so strong, but I can’t do it. It would mean admitting that I went against everything I believed in and fell in love. It would mean admitting that Jase broke my heart. I’m too worked up. I just need to get away from here. Thankfully a cab pulls up. “I need to go,” I tell him, rushing to get into the cab and get away before he can call me out on my obvious lie.
Thinking back to that night in Forbidden Ink, a thought niggles in the back of my mind. I didn’t put the pieces together before. I was too upset. But now, the way Jase is acting…it all makes sense. He has no idea that I know he cheated. I mean, how could he know? I left his apartment without making myself known. I switched out the ticket Nick had bought me as my graduation present and took the next flight out, never looking back. He probably thinks I left for New York without saying goodbye.
“It is Jase,” Olivia says, answering her own question. And she’s right, it is in fact Jase Crawford, standing on the edge of the sidewalk, waving his hand in the air as he tries to snag a cab. With the memory of what he did to me still fresh in my mind, I stalk over to him. It’s about damn time he knows I’m aware of what he did to me all those years ago.
“Hey!” I scream over the blaring horns and people chattering about on the busy sidewalk. “Jase!” I yell to get his attention. He turns his head toward me, a slow smirk creeping up on his lips. My only thought is that I’m going to knock that damn smirk square off his face. This conversation is years overdue.
“Oh my God! Dad! It’s Celeste Leblanc!” a tiny voice squeals. I look down, and for the first time, notice Jase is holding hands with a young girl. Because of his size, she was being blocked by his body. She grins wide, and letting go of Jase’s hand, steps in front of me. “I am seriously your biggest fan!” Her emerald eyes glimmer with happiness. “Do you…do you know my dad?” She points back at Jase as I finally absorb her words.
Dad. She called Jase, Dad. He’s her dad. I trail my eyes over her, taking in her features: fiery red hair. Green eyes. It’s been over ten years since I’ve seen her, but I’ll never forget what her eyes and hair looked like. The girl standing in front of me is Amaya’s daughter. No, correction. She’s Amaya and Jase’s daughter. While she has her mother’s eyes and hair, she’s naturally tan like Jase. She’s dressed in an adorable red crop top that shows just a hint of her belly and black skinny jeans with rips in the knees, and she’s sporting a pair of…are those Burberry rain boots?
“Hello?” She tilts her head to the side. “You are Celeste Leblanc, right?”
My name out of her mouth has me snapping to attention. “Yes, I am Celeste.” I muster up the best smile I can.
“Do you know my dad?” she repeats.
“I…” I will myself not to look at Jase. “I do know your dad.”
“Ohmigod!” she squeals again, and I force myself not to flinch. Once in a while, I’ll come across a college-aged woman asking for an autograph, but I’ve yet to have someone this young recognize me. My clothing, jewelry, and makeup lines are mainly geared toward women in their late twenties and older—the businesswomen and the wealthy who can afford the price tag that comes with my brand.