Chapter 1
Over eleven years later…
Julia
Oh. My. God. He killed Luna.
“Of all the irresponsible, unforgivable, unbelievable things my best friend could…” I whisper to myself as I walk across my bedroom at my parents’ house in Short Hills, New Jersey, drop my overnight bag, and come to a screeching stop near my window. My hands shake and my exhale stutters.
Ace Kelly straight up murdered my plant, and the carnage of the crime scene is laid out like an episode of CSI right in front of me.
“Luna?” I whisper, staring in horror at the limp, drooping leaves of my once-thriving peace lily.
She looks like she gave up on life a few days ago, which, incidentally, is exactly when I left her in Ace’s care.
I step closer and inspect the butchery. The soil is soggy and drenched, like Ace tried to water her with the tears of every woman in the city who’s had to deal with the aftermath of dating an emotionally unavailable man, and you and I both know, that means Flood City.
I explicitly told him, “Only a little water every day. She’s very particular and only likes to be misted,” and he straight up waterboarded her like he was trying to get state secrets.
Oh boy, did she ever break.
My poor Luna. She’s been my go-to gal since I started my freshman year at Dickson University last fall.
She was my study buddy for midterms and finals.
She was my emotional support plant during Scottie’s tragic cheerleading injury.
And when I had to move out of the dorms in May, I brought her home to my parents’ house, my intention to spend the rest of my college career with her.
And now, she’s dead.
Damn you, Ace Kelly, you direction-avoidant moron.
I yank my phone out of the Chanel purse Ace’s mom gave me for my sixteenth birthday and send a text to the offender himself, the heat of my anger shooting from my chest to my fingers. It’d probably be more dramatic if I called, but my generation doesn’t do that.
Me: Where are you?
Because of my innocuous words, he misses the angry text memo.
Ace: Damn Jules thank fuck you’re finally home from the Catskills feels like you’ve been gone forever but good news already omw to your parents’ place
Having been gone with my parents for the last few days, I’d normally be worried about getting together to download all the tea I’ve missed and to hear stories of the antics Ace has gotten into without me, but this isn’t any normal welcome home. This came with a housewarming gift from my nightmares.
Me: You’d better turn around right now, then. You killed Luna!
Ace: What are you talking about? Gary can’t turn around I’m on the bridge
Me: My PLANT, Ace. The PEACE LILY I trusted you with. She’s DEAD
Ace: Oh yesterday She was looking kinda dry So I gave her a top off or 2. Did she not like that
Ace makes a job out of not using proper grammar or punctuation when he texts me, and at first, I tried to fix it—which was both a thankless and fruitless endeavor.
Now, I find it endearing because it’s weirdly him—like he gets too excited to think it all the way through before hitting send.
But today, it’s annoying again. Maybe one day, when he has to get an actual job, he’ll introduce himself to more than the occasional comma and period, but for now, they are rare acquaintances and almost never used correctly.
Me: TOP OFF OR TWO?? SHE’S A PLANT, NOT A TOYOTA CAMRY. I TOLD YOU NOT TO OVERWATER
I don’t hear back from him again, so I settle for cursing his name as I unpack all the stuff I brought on my trip to the Catskills with my parents and sister Evie.
Butt-munching, plant-abusing, psychopathic waterer…
It takes much longer than it should because, I swear, I am the queen of overpacking. Only two nights at our getaway cabin that already has everything I need, and I still managed to drag an extra fifteen pairs of underwear and four entire outfits that never saw the light of day.
By the time I have everything put away, there’s a knock on my bedroom door, and despite my better judgment, I answer it.
Ace, slightly out of breath and holding a Whole Foods bag in his hand, stands on the other side of the threshold.
I cross my arms. “Well, look who it is. The murderer.”
“I’m sorry, Julia. And before you yell,” Ace says, “I come bearing peace. And possibly Luna 2.0.”
“You killed my baby,” I seethe.
“I know. I didn’t mean to. I swear. But…
” He pauses, reaches into the bag, and pulls out a tiny pothos in a pink ceramic pot.
A starter plant. “I Googled ‘low-stakes forgiveness plant,’ and this was the top result.” He lifts it higher.
“Pothos. Practically unkillable. Like your ability to hold grudges against me.”
“I’m feeling very grudge-y right now.” I glare at him. “You flooded my baby girl to an early grave.”
“I thought she was thirsty!” he exclaims. “And Jersey isn’t exactly a hop, skip, and a jump from Manhattan, you know. I had to consolidate my visits while you were gone.”
I eye him knowingly. “Let me guess, you were busy schmoozing rando girls.” Knowing Ace, he probably had two dates with two different women in the same stupid night, so of course, Luna got the low end of his priority totem.
“There was only one rando girl,” he corrects. “Her name is Lindsey and she’s a very nice gal, despite being a little too clingy for my liking.”
“You think every girl you date is clingy,” I retort and point toward where my dead plant sits on the windowsill behind me. “Clearly, even my beloved Luna falls into that category, and she doesn’t even have a vagina!”
“I’m sorry, Julia. I really am.” If I had a penny for every time my best friend has flashed those stupid, perfect brown eyes of his in my direction like a freaking irresistible puppy, I’d be richer than our parents’ net worths combined—and they’re billionaires!
I purse my lips. “Mm-hmm.”
“So… Julia, my favorite girl in the whole world, my best friend, my best girl, my favorite gal pal, the wind beneath my wings, my angel, my—”
“Ace,” I cut him off and cross my arms over my chest. “Get to the point.”
“Are you going to let me come inside your room?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He shifts his weight, his desperation building. “How long has it been?”
I blink rapidly as I’m transported back a decade to a time when I had to keep track of the minutes for him. “I…I don’t know.”
“You know our rule, Jules. Fifteen-minute limit. We can’t stay mad at each other longer than that,” he says, flashing me a hopeful grin. His brown eyes are still big and pleading, and I start to crack like he’s Pavlov and I’m a dog.
Honestly, it’s hard to believe that the Ace standing before me is the same boy from my childhood, because physically speaking, he’s a full-fledged man.
He’s wicked tall, muscular, handsome as hell, and has the kind of entrancing brown eyes that have made numerous girls at Dickson U fall to his feet.
My beloved Luna alone was around for several of the random girls Ace has temporarily dated, and she only survived our freshman year of college.
When we were in high school together in New Jersey at West Chester Prep, it felt like every week he had a new girlfriend.
“Time’s up, right, Jules?” he pushes, and his pleading yet undeniably magnetic smile is still in place. “I’m positive you texted me over an hour ago. I mean, I ran to Whole Foods, for fuck’s sake.”
I purse my lips, considering the implications of him getting off that easily. “The timer started when you arrived.”
“What?” he questions with a shocked laugh. “That is not how the rule works, Lia, and you know it.”
I glare at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this around on me, you stone-cold plant killer. Our rule was invented to keep our fights in check, not to let you run roughshod over my feelings with a get-out-of-jail-free card anytime you like. The timer started with your arrival. Deal with it.”
“Can you at least let me come inside your room?” He holds up the pothos again. “You know, so I can fully plead my case from somewhere a little more comfortable than the doorway?”
I sigh dramatically but step aside to let him inside my room. Immediately, he sits down in the cushy pink chair by my window. I don’t miss the fact that he’s making a strong effort not to look in Luna’s wilted direction, his body turned almost awkwardly.
“I brought pizza,” he says, pulling a box out of the Whole Foods bag. “And I made sure it has your nasty combination of pineapple and jalapenos. I also thought I could convince you to fully forgive me with a little evening o’ rom-com.”
I squint at him. “Define that.”
“You yell at me about killing your plant—”
“Luna,” I correct him. “She had a name. She wasn’t some weed I plucked from an alley. She was my beautiful baby Luna.”
“My bad,” he says and holds up one hand in defeat.
“You yell at me for killing our dear, sweet, beautiful Luna.” He looks to the ceiling and makes the sign of the cross over his chest. “May she rest in peace. Amen.” He meets my eyes again.
“For however long you need. Then we eat pizza and watch Grease.”
I snort. “Of course. Grease. Why am I not surprised?”
It’s his favorite movie, though his love for love is born from both nurture and nature, so it’s hard to point any blame or shame directly at him.
His father, Thatcher Kelly, has a long-standing love affair with all things romance.
At one point, my dad was forced to be in some kind of romance book club that Ace’s dad was running.
Not to mention, Ace’s mom Cassie writes romance novels in her free time, whenever she’s not busy doing her famous NYC photographer thing, and has force-fed beta reading sessions on both of us on more than one occasion.
Long story short, Ace has been inducted into a romance-loving cult from birth.
“Jules, shall I remind you that last rom-com movie night, we watched your favorite, You’ve Got Mail.”
He’s not wrong. When I die, I hope I get reincarnated as Kathleen Kelly, and we did watch it on our last movie night—two times in a row.
“It’s my turn. And Grease is a classic,” he adds, grinning. “It’s my favorite rom-com. Hardly something to complain about watching.”
“It’s barely a rom-com.”
“But it’s our rom-com.” He waggles his brows at me. “Remember Halloween? Fifth grade? You were Sandy. I was Danny Zuko. You had that curly blond wig and the candy cigarette.”
I groan. “That wig gave me hives.”
He winks. “But I looked incredible in that leather jacket. Don’t lie.”
“You looked like a kid trying to play dress-up in his dad’s clothes.”
“I looked cool, Jules,” he retorts and reaches out to briefly hold my hand. “By the way, bestie, I missed you while you were gone. It was weird not having you around.”
Oh, here we go… I should’ve known it would only be a matter of time before Ace started shelling out his charming voodoo to shove me more quickly toward compliance.
“Don’t be dramatic.” I roll my eyes. “I was only gone for two days.”
“Technically, it was three.” He grins up at me. “Trust me, I was counting down all 4,320 minutes until you were back.”
Sigh. I swear, he really makes it hard to be mad at him, even knowing he’s half full of shit.
“Well, I had to go with my parents to the cabin.” I shrug. “It was family-only and full of Evie’s bitching and bad Wi-Fi and not up for debate like your family trip to the Bahamas. I can’t believe your parents let you stay home.”
“Don’t be jealous, Lia. You know what my family is like. Opting out is like a survival tool.”
Once again, he’s not wrong. The Kellys are both the best and certifiable on any given day.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re back.” His eyes dance with mischief. “We’re going to Groove tonight.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to go clubbing with you after you committed first-degree plant murder?”
“I have fake IDs for both of us.” He winks. “I figured I should balance my crime with something fun.”
“So, you want to balance the crime of killing Luna with the crime of underage drinking? A sin for a sin?” I question, and he just laughs.
“Fake IDs are barely a crime. Everyone on campus has one. Frankly, you should feel lucky that your best friend can always pull through with the right connections. If you ask me, while the day started out a little…bad…it’s starting to feel like it’s turning around.
” He grabs the pothos and holds it up. “And let’s not forget about Luna 2. 0.”
“Fine. I’ll eat your stupid pizza and watch Grease and go to Groove.” I sigh again. “But I swear, if you manage to kill this Luna—”
“I’ll buy you a whole fucking jungle, Jules.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. Ace Kelly is irresistible—just like he always has been.