Chapter Twenty-Nine
CECE
CeCe stepped in front of the full-length mirror in one of Jayce’s several guest bathrooms, startled by the reflection staring back at her.
The evening gown he’d bought her for the award ceremony fit beautifully.
She twirled, swishing the silky fabric, mesmerized by the way light sparkled off the starry glass beads.
Between the ombre coloring that began with the palest blue at the fitted bodice and dripped downward into the deepest indigo, and the shimmering jewels, CeCe felt as if she’d been clothed in the Milky Way itself.
To complement the striking gown, she’d twisted her hair into a simple updo with a few loose curls framing her face—a face she barely recognized after she’d carefully applied eyeliner, mascara, and a dramatic lipstick aptly labeled Red Carpet Ruby.
For the final touch, she’d replaced her basic wire-framed glasses with contact lenses. They irritated her eyes, but maybe, just maybe, she’d fit into Jayce’s elegant A-list crowd after all.
At the thought, apprehension slithered up her spine. Tonight, she wouldn’t simply brave a smattering of paparazzi, she’d be surrounded by Hollywood elite. A parade of perfect women. A conclave of stunning starlets whose collective brightness would illuminate all her flaws.
Would any of them really believe Jayce had chosen her?
The heat of anxiety radiated across her skin. Her flowy, lightweight gown suddenly felt ten pounds heavier, cinching around her rib cage like a corset. She clawed at the bodice, tempted to rip it off. Instead, she escaped onto the balcony for a rush of fresh coastal air.
The soothing hum of ocean waves and lilting seagull cries did little to assuage her misgivings.
She should’ve stayed in Blessings Bay. She should’ve gone to Max’s going away party.
When she’d dropped off the desserts Abby had ordered earlier that morning and had spent a few hours with Max, saying her goodbye, she should’ve listened to the nagging voice telling her not to leave.
Going to Los Angeles with Jayce—leaving her cozy, uncomplicated cocoon—would only muddy the emotional waters even more.
Turns out, Sage, her mother, and her own intuition warning her against agreeing to Jayce’s charade had been right.
She’d made a terrible mistake. She’d wandered too deep into the fantasy, foolishly reading into each glance, each word spoken and unspoken, fabricating a happily ever after that could never exist in the real world.
She’d even convinced herself that tonight meant something, that it wasn’t simply another part of the ruse. That maybe his feelings for her had changed, had grown into something more. But who was she kidding?
Anxiety blended with embarrassment, burning through her body, making her stomach turn as she took in her surreal surroundings.
Jayce’s massive modern mansion claimed a prime stretch of sunny Southern California coastline, boasting a scenic beachfront backyard along with other opulent multimillion dollar homes—a slice of paradise few people could even fathom.
Jayce had built a life of dreams beyond the reach of most mortals. No wonder he’d left home and never looked back. No wonder he’d—
Her cheeks flamed as a sudden memory barged into her thoughts, dragging her backward in time almost a decade to the night of the big send-off for Jayce, Evan, and Mia.
They’d thrown a bonfire on the beach; a bittersweet farewell among friends.
CeCe barely had a moment alone with Jayce all evening, but she’d consoled herself with their plans for the following day.
A picnic, just the two of them, at their special secluded cove.
She’d prepared all his favorite foods, baked his beloved Toto cake, and had rehearsed a speech finally declaring her feelings for him.
She’d waited at the cove—dressed in one of only three dresses she owned—a frazzled basket of nerves but also strangely excited, hopeful for a happy ending. A half hour later, with their toasted sandwiches soggy and cold, she’d received a text from Jayce.
CeCe closed her eyes, still mortified by the memory. As hard as she tried to block the mental image, it surfaced in her mind.
Hey. Decided to skip town early to beat the traffic. Sorry I can’t make our picnic. Thanks for understanding. You’re the best. I hope our friendship never changes.
I hope our friendship never changes . The words echoed loud and irrefutable all these years later.
To think, she’d planned to finally take Sage’s advice—to tell Jayce she wanted more than friendship. To add to her embarrassment, she’d actually thought maybe— just maybe —he’d wanted more, too.
Then he hadn’t even bothered to show up to say goodbye. Traffic . He’d been more worried about road congestion than spending time together. To top it off, he’d added the last line, solidifying his feelings for her loud and clear. His affection for her had a limit—a hard line he’d never cross.
A wave of sadness swallowed her whole as she surveyed the stunning panorama before her—the cobalt waters, pristine white sand, and swath of magenta blooms lining the meticulously groomed pathways.
The kind of manicured perfection only absurd amounts of money could buy.
If she couldn’t compete with the possibility of avoiding a few extra hours stuck in traffic, how could she ever compete with all this?
“There you are.” Jayce’s rich baritone resonated behind her, startling her from her thoughts.
“I was starting to think you’d gotten lost up—” His teasing tone died in his throat when she turned around.
“Wow. You look—” He shook his head as if to dislodge words that wouldn’t come.
“Wow,” he repeated, this time in a thick, raspy breath.
CeCe flushed beneath his admiring gaze, embarrassed by the urge to melt into a puddle at his feet. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He wore a sleek, impeccably tailored suit in a deep azure blue that enhanced the color of his eyes to mesmerizing effect.
The supple, expensive-looking fabric formed to his muscular frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and toned arms as he moved closer, meeting her up against the balcony railing.
“I knew the dress would look great on you, but dang . I think I missed my calling as a personal stylist.”
Flustered, she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, directing her gaze back to the ocean. The sun dipped low in the sky, dusting the waves with gold. “I didn’t realize you’d picked it out yourself. I figured you had people who did that sort of thing for you.”
“I do. I gave them specific parameters, then chose my favorite out of twenty or so options.”
“What kind of parameters?” she asked, curious how they’d selected a gown so perfect.
“I told them I wanted something unique but classy, like the Academy Awards in the Golden Era of cinema. I believe my exact words were, ‘Dress Hedy Lamarr as if she were attending the Oscars in outer space.’”
CeCe laughed. “You didn’t actually say that.”
“I did. And I think they knocked it out of the park. Except, you look even more beautiful than Hedy Lamarr.”
Her skin sizzled despite the breeze and slight drop in temperature as the sun slowly set. Why did he have to say such lovely things? They were alone on the balcony. No paparazzi to placate. No Gretchen to fool.
She tried to think of a silly, sarcastic retort to hide the effects of his flattery, but as he inched closer, his nearness rendered her speechless.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” He kept his gaze on her face, despite the gorgeous display of color cascading across the water.
“I know you had to give up the going-away party. And this kind of event isn’t really your thing.
Not to mention all the pressure of pulling off a fake engagement.
” His voice softened, as though blanketed by a building intimacy between them. “It means a lot to me that you came.”
“Of course.” Why was her throat so dry? She gripped the railing tighter, intently studying the horizon line like a lighthouse keeper on the lookout for lost ships.
You’re being ridiculous , she scolded herself. This is Jayce. Relax.
“Before we go,” he said, suddenly sounding as nervous as she felt. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
An unexpected urgency in his tone made her turn around. His impassioned gaze pinned her in place. What was happening? He wasn’t looking at her like a friend. He was looking at her like—
The wind picked up, flinging a speck of sand in her eye. She flinched. “Ow.” Her eyes watered, trying to extricate the foreign object grating against the already irritating contact lens.
“Here. Hold still.” Jayce cupped her chin, tilting her face toward him. She felt the firm pressure of his fingertips all the way to her toes.
As he gazed into her eyes, searching for the tiny grain of sand, she held her breath, the stinging sensation no longer her most pressing concern.
She couldn’t keep doing this, riding an emotional roller coaster with no end in sight.
After tonight, they needed to stop playing pretend and return to a friendship sustained over sporadic phone calls and text messages. A status quo that kept her safe.
“Got it.” With a quick sweep of his finger, Jayce removed the offending granule.
“Then why do my eyes still feel like they’re on fire?” Blinking rapidly, she resisted the urge to rub her eyes and ruin her mascara.
“Probably the contacts. If they’re bothering you, you should take them out. I’ve always liked your glasses, anyway.”
Ugh. There he went again, saying all the right things. Did he have to be so sweet?
“In fact,” he said hoarsely, stroking a loose curl away from her face. “I like everything about you, Toto. I always have.”
The tenderness in his voice, in his touch, in the way he leaned in toward her, left little room for doubt or debate.
This wasn’t pretend.
And it wasn’t platonic.
The invisible line of friendship filled the shallow expanse between them, fragile and tenuous, and she silently begged him to cross it.