Chapter 26 #2
“Yeah.” I chuckle dryly. “You could say that. Oscar always had a way of cutting through the bullshit and getting to the point. He was the one who first called me out on my shit. And I guess I miss him. He would know what to do.” She leans back, resting her head against the seat, waiting for me to continue.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair.
“I’ve been telling myself for years that I chose Levi because it was the right thing to do.
That Nicholas did something unforgivable, and I was justified in walking away.
But now, I don’t know. I think I didn’t want to face the truth. ”
“You’re allowed to change your mind about the past, you know. To see it differently now that you have more pieces of the puzzle.”
I huff a quiet laugh, my lips twitching upward. “Leave it to you to simplify it like that.”
“It’s not simple,” she counters. “But it’s also not too late to fix it. Believe me, if I learned anything, it’s that as long as you’re alive, there is time to fix stuff.”
Her words hang in the air, and I look back at the Mercedes.
Fixing it.
Fixing us.
This is going to be hard but not impossible.
I already noticed how easy it would be to fall back into the friendship that was once everything to me.
Maybe it’s time I start owning up to the shit I’ve avoided for years, starting with Nicholas, who seems to have finished his lesson with the kids because he’s walking over to us, or rather to his car.
No, my car, dammit.
His gaze lands on the Bronco, and I can see the moment he recognizes us because his posture turns, laced with an edge of tension like he’s preparing for a fight. He rounds the car, and I roll down the window.
“Your backflips were smoother a decade ago. You’re getting old, Snickers.”
A flicker of amusement crosses his face, quickly replaced by exasperation. He leans down, forearms resting on the frame. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Ever heard of texting?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He exhales a sharp breath, shaking his head. “And what do you want?”
“I need a few things,” I start, tilting my head toward him. “I wanted to talk to Veronica again. Make sure she knows about the show and, well, shows up. Also, Nova and Ric need Heights uniforms.”
Nicholas’s gaze slides past me to Novalee, who’s still holding my hand. Her fingers squeeze mine when his eyes find her, and I catch the slight stiffening in her posture.
Fuck. Poor Little Thief.
I squeeze her hand back in reassurance, letting my thumb trace circles on her skin. It’s subtle, but I know she feels it when her shoulders relax a bit.
Nicholas turns back to me, his jaw tightening. “I still wasn’t able to get the evidence you need.”
“You will.” I try to reassure him because I see how much it’s eating at him, and I need his confidence to pull this off. “Even with your mother, earning trust doesn’t happen overnight.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when Nicholas’s eyes flick to Novalee again.
Did I just put my foot in my mouth?
He doesn’t call me out, though. Instead, he straightens, pushing himself off the car. “Okay, follow me.”
He walks toward the Mercedes, and I shout after him. “Hey! When will I get my car back?”
Without breaking stride, he calls over his shoulder, “It’s my turn, Copy.”
I groan, but there’s a grin tugging at my lips. Maybe fixing this will be easier than expected.
I glance at Novalee, whose eyes are still on Nicholas’s retreating figure. She’s quiet, but there’s a storm of emotions in her expression—longing, hurt, regret.
“You okay?” I ask, squeezing her hand again.
She blinks, pulling her gaze back to me. Her lips curve into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
I nod, starting the Bronco and following Nicholas toward the Heights.
He drives into the underground garage, leaving Novalee and me to park outside and walk into the main lobby.
She mutters under her breath, “I don’t like this hotel.
” Her arms brush close to her sides as if she’s trying to protect herself.
There’s a subtle shudder that ripples through her, and I feel a pang of guilt twist in my chest.
She got shot here. And as much as I want to tell her she doesn’t have to do this, I also know she’s too damn brave to back out now. She doesn’t complain, doesn’t protest, just walks in with her head held high, but the tension is obvious in her every step.
And even more guilt gnaws at me for not checking in on her enough.
I should’ve asked how her wound is healing, anything to make sure she’s okay.
But no. I’ve been too wrapped up with Levi, too busy obsessing over making this new coin act in Uncle Oscar’s memory flawless for the show.
Normally, illusions of this level take months to prepare, but we’ve got less than two weeks.
It’s another reason why I’ve warmed up to the idea of sharing her with my brothers. I was only able to concentrate on something else because I knew Sylus and Ric had her.
Doesn’t make my lack of care any better, though.
“How’s your arm?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “Oh, good. It hurts a little when I move, but nothing bad at all. It just looks… not so nice right now.”
“There’s no way anything about you could look bad.” The words come out easily, and I chuckle at the way she rolls her eyes.
“Shut up.”
“It’s the truth.”
I want to grab her hand to ground both of us, but I can’t. Not here, not in Veronica’s territory, when she still thinks we’re cousins and Novalee is Nicholas’s girl. Every move we make has to feed that illusion.
We come to a stop in the middle of the lobby, tourists and guests swarming around us. My name is murmured more than once, but I ignore it, and nobody openly addresses me.
“Please don’t look like a kicked puppy when Nicholas comes back. Veronica has to think you’re madly in love.”
Her eyes flash, a hint of indignation sparking there. “I don’t look like a kicked puppy.”
I raise a brow at her, my expression making it clear I don’t buy that for a second.
“I’m fine, okay?” she insists. “I can handle this. I don’t feel anything about the matter.”
“Little liar.”
Her chin lifts, defiance written all over her face. “I thought liars avoided eye contact. I’m looking you straight in the eyes, not glancing anywhere.”
“That’s a myth. Liars want to see if their lie lands.” She blinks, thrown off for a second, and I take the opening. “Emotions always look the same.” I lean in a fraction closer. “Whether it’s a grandma, a child, a mentalist, or a little thief, the truth is written all over our faces.”
Her lips part, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings, and Nicholas steps out, his cap backward. He strides toward us, but before he gets a word out, Veronica appears from our other side, her assistant trailing behind her.
Her expression shifts from irritated to a saccharine smile in an instant. “Koen, darling! What a nice surprise. And Rosie,” she adds, her gaze sliding to Novalee. “What brings us the pleasure of your visit?” Then she turns to Nicholas, her smile turning icy. “What are you wearing?”
I glance at Nicholas’s athletic shorts and shirt as he shrugs, his tone clipped. “I was working out, Mother.”
Veronica’s disapproval radiates off her as she looks back at Novalee. “It’s an evil we must endure if we want to stay in shape, right, dear? Though he could at least make an effort to wear one of the matching outfits I bought him for Christmas.”
Novalee’s reply is quick. “I like this look on him.”
That’s when Nicholas remembers the role he has to play, reaching out and taking Novalee’s hand in his. Then he leans down to press a kiss to her temple. “You’re way too kind to me.”
Huh, that wasn’t played at all.
The stiffening of Novalee’s posture is almost imperceptible—there and gone in a split second—but I catch it. Veronica, thankfully, doesn’t seem to.
“Isn’t that cute?” she asks, her smile as fake as the diamond studs in her assistant’s ears. “Young love.”
The truth is written all over her face too.
“Speaking of dress codes,” I intercept smoothly, flashing Veronica a practiced smile. “We were actually here to ask if Rosie could borrow a Heights uniform or two.”
A flicker of suspicion crosses Veronica’s face. “What for?” she asks, but before I can answer, her expression sharpens, and the suspicion deepens. “Doesn’t she already have one from her little… escapade?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that.
“No,” Nicholas says calmly, almost bored. “I brought that one back to the laundry.”
I shoot him a grateful glance, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, keeping his focus on his mother.
Veronica’s expression softens, though her eyes still linger on Novalee for a beat too long. “What do you need it for, dear?”
I force a casual chuckle, waving a hand toward Novalee.
“We were talking about the joint venture, the magic hotel, and Rosie here is into fashion. She’s been thinking about how the staff uniforms should look.
Something that fits the vibe but is still comfortable for them to wear.
That’s why we thought it’d be helpful to get a male and female version to see what works and what doesn’t.
The Harrington Heights has the best uniforms on the Strip, after all. ”
For a moment, suspicion clouds her face again, but it quickly fades, replaced by a flicker of glee. She believes it. She believes we’re buying into her vision and that we’re invested. She thinks this brings her closer to what she wants.
If only she knew how much closer this brings us to what we want.
“Of course.” Veronica turns to her assistant, snapping her fingers. “Grab two standard-size uniforms and bring them here for Rosie.”