Blake stayed the night on the couch since the snowstorm continued to rage outside and Farrah still worried about him getting sick. The downside was, she didnât sleep a wink. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, fighting every impulse to curl up beside Blake and never let him go.
Yes, she loved him. So freakinâ much. But she hadnât stopped hurting, and she wasnât ready to give him another chance yet.
Farrah left for L.A. a few days later, hoping the holidays would prove a decent distraction. She spent most of it bingeing on Netflix and In-N-Out burgers and conducting ill-fated baking experiments. Farrahâs attempt to recreate Sammyâs signature egg tarts resulted in misshapen brown confections instead of crispy, flaky shells filled with golden custard. One bite confirmed the egg tarts tasted exactly like they looked. Farrah and her mom threw out the batch, picked up a dozen real egg tarts from the nearest Chinese bakery, and never spoke of the incident again.
Farrah also met her momâs boyfriend.
Yes, boyfriend.
Sheâd nearly choked on a Hot Cheeto when Cheryl brought it up, looking as nervous as a teenager asking her parent if she could go on a date for the first time. So that was why her mom had been so weird when sheâd asked Farrah if she was coming home for the holidays.
Cheryl shouldnât have worried about Farrahâs reaction: Farrah was thrilled. She was an only child, and they didnât have family in L.A. Sheâd worried about her mom being lonely, even with Cherylâs dance association friends. Friend love wasnât the same as romantic love, and Cheryl was far too young to live out the rest of her days alone. She deserved happiness, especially after her brutal divorce from Farrahâs dad.
Besides, Kevin, her momâs boyfriend, seemed like a nice guy. He and Cheryl were old classmates whoâd run into each other again at a ballroom dancing competition, and Farrah could tell he adored her mom. He was divorced with no kids, soft-spoken with a surprisingly sarcastic sense of humor, and he had a stable, if boring, job as a database administrator. As far as middle-aged boyfriends went, he could be a lot worse.
All of this would have been a distraction, had it not been for the letters.
Farrah didnât know how Blake got her L.A. address, but she could guess, and she was going to have a stern talk with Olivia when they returned to New York.
The first letter was a precursor for what to expect. It arrived in a plain envelope, handwritten and unsigned.
I know you need time, and I respect that. But the door is open whenever youâre ready. Read my letters when you feel like you might be able to give me another chance.
The second letter had been a simple card. Farrah debated whether to open it, but in the end, curiosity won out.
When I was six, my family canceled a vacation to Disneyland because my sister got really sick, and I remember wishing, just for a second, that I was an only child.
The next day, she received a giant box of her favorite chocolates with a third note.
When I was fourteen, I stole my dadâs credit card to buy porn online. My mom saw the charges and had a huge fight with my dad about it. My dad thought heâd been hacked, and I never told them the truth.
The gifts and notes kept coming, hand-delivered by messenger.
A box of gourmet coffee beans from an Austin cafeâthe ones Blake said he would buy her as a souvenir: When I was in sixteen, I saw two of my âfriendsâ shove a freshman in a locker. It wasnât the first time. Theyâd bullied him the entire year and made his life hell. I didnât take part in the bullying, but I didnât stop them eitherâbecause I wanted to fit in. Because I wanted to be liked. Because I was this close to becoming homecoming king, and I didnât want to mess it up. Beyond pathetic, I know, but I was young and stupid, and all I cared about was being popular. Well, I won homecoming king. The glory wore off in about two weeks. But the regret of not saying anythingâof not standing up to those bullies who were my so-called friendsâhaunts me to this day.
A beautiful snow globe: When I was twenty, I asked my childhood friend out on a date, even though I didnât want to. I did it because my family wanted me to and because everyone said we were perfect together. I thought if I gave it time, I would love her the way I was supposed to. I quickly found out that wasnât the case, but I still led her on for an entire year. I saw her falling in love with me, and I didnât do anything to stop it. I broke her heart, then I left, but karma later found me anywayâ¦
A framed black-and-white photo of the Shanghai skyline: When I was twenty-one, I fell in love for the first time in my life. I didnât want to or expect to, but I did. She was beautiful, kind, smart, funny, sassy, talentedâ¦everything I couldâve wanted. I lived in fear of messing things up with her. Then, one day, I did. I broke her heartâ¦but I also broke mine. Completely and utterly. Only she didnât know it then, because I never told her. Instead of telling her the truth, I lied and said I had a girlfriend back homeâeven though I didnât, not really. I was afraid of what she would think of me if she found out the truth, which is ironic, considering I lost her anyway.
A beautiful infinity bracelet: When I was twenty-seven, I ran into the woman I loved again. I never stopped loving her, but I was too afraid to reach out after we broke up becauseâ¦well, if you canât tell, I have issues with hard conversations. I donât like them. I run from them. But being the angel she is, she gave me another chanceâand I fucked it up, again. I pushed her away, and I ran, again. I drowned in misery for a while until I finally pulled my head from my ass long enough to realize what I shouldâve known all along: trying to run from her is as futile as trying to sweep water back into the ocean. Everything I do, every thought I have leads back to her. Sheâs angry at me right now, and I donât blame her. But Iâm done running. For the first time in my life, Iâm going to stay, and Iâm going to fight. For her. For us.
None of the letters were signed. They didnât have to be.
âAre you sure youâll be okay?â Cheryl surveyed her daughter with concern. âWe can stay home and watch bad TV if youâd rather do that.â
âNo, Iâm fine.â Farrah took a deep breath.
Blakeâs letters, combined with that crazy, stupid stunt heâd pulled in the snowstorm right before the holidays, had rattled her defenses, but she forced a smile on her face. Cheryl had spent most of the holiday break watching her read the letters, shove them into a shoebox under her childhood bed, and fight back tears. Farrah could tell her mom was worried. But it was New Yearâs Eve. She wasnât going to ruin it by being an emotional mess. âHave fun with Kevin. I have to go to Krisâs party, anyway. Sheâll kill me if I miss it.â
Kris and Nate hosted a massive New Yearâs Eve bash every year at their Beverly Hills mansion, and Farrah wouldnât miss it for the worldânot the least because she was terrified of what Kris would do to her.
Kris in love may have been nicer than Shanghai Kris, but she could still bite your head off with one well-timed barb.
âAll right.â Cherylâs concerned expression remained in place. She patted her daughterâs hand. âYouâve had a tough few months, but itâll be a new year soon. Remember what I told you: no matter how bad someone hurts you, you canât heal until you forgive. Especially when you so clearly want to. Donât argue,â she added when Farrah opened her mouth to do exactly that. âIâm your mother. I know how stubborn you are, and how hard it is for you to trust. But I also know you wouldnât have kept all those letters and gifts if this boy didnât hold a piece of your heart. You want to give him another chance. Whatâs stopping you? What are you afraid of?â
Farrah stared at her shoes. They were brand-new, bought just for the New Year. âI donât want to get hurt again.â
âArenât you already hurting?â Cheryl asked gently.
Farrah didnât have to answer; they both knew the truth.
Krisâs party was incredible, per usual. Five hundred of L.A.âs hottest, richest, and most famous feted New Yearâs Eve at her and Nateâs gigantic mansion, alongside live entertainment from the worldâs top pop star and gourmet catering courtesy of the cityâs most expensive and sought-after chef.
Farrah sipped her champagne and tried not to fangirl when two of the male leads of a massive superhero movie franchise strolled by. One of them caught her eye and smiled, and her ovaries exploded.
It still boggled Farrahâs mind that Kris knew most of her favorite celebrities, but as much as she was dying for a selfie or an autograph, she knew her friend would kick her ass for acting like a crazed stalker at one of her parties.
âHey!â The hostess herself sailed over in a glittering gold gown that probably cost more than the average Americanâs monthly rent. âHowâre you enjoying the party?â
âItâs great, as usual. Thanks for inviting me.â Farrah hugged her friend.
She and Kris had met up a few times since she landed in L.A., but Kris had been so swamped with planning her foundationâs Christmas gala, the New Yearâs party, and her wedding that they hadnât had time for any in-depth conversations.
Not that Farrah wanted her friendâs opinion on Blakeâs letters or anything. Knowing Kris, sheâd tell Farrah to create a voodoo doll of Blake and toss it into a bonfire sprinkled with the ashes of his letters and presents.
Kris Carrera didnât do sentimental.
Meanwhile, Cherylâs words swirled in Farrahâs brain, muddying her thoughts further.
Arenât you already hurting?
Yes. But were there degrees of hurt? Was keeping Blake at armâs length better than letting him back in and having him walk away again? Was dull, perpetual pain better than experiencing the highest of highs only to drop to the lowest of lows?
Farrahâs head pounded with indecision.
âPlease. Like thatâs even a question.â Kris rolled her eyes. âSorry we didnât get a chance to chat before now. Nateââ She blushed. âAnyway, I was busy.â
Farrah smirked. If she had any doubts about where Kris snuck off to, Nateâs mussed hair and cat-that-ate-the-canary grin confirmed it.
âHey, Farrah.â He greeted her with a wink as he sauntered past them. He didnât miss the opportunity to plant a quick kiss on Krisâs lips.
Kris kept her cool, but her eyes sparkled with obvious love.
Jealousy sank its claws into Farrahâs guts. She was happy for Kris, truly, but watching her and Nateâs loving display was like exfoliating her still-raw wounds with salt.
Once Nate left to say hi to an R&B singer and his supermodel/foodie wife, Kris tilted her head and examined Farrah with an eagle eye. âLiv told me what happened with Blake.â
Even when they lived cross-country, her friends gossiped more than middle school girls.
Farrah shrugged. She did not want to spend the last hours of the year discussing her love life, or lack thereof.
âYou look sad.â
âIâm not sad.â Farrah tried to take another sip of champagne, only to discover her glass was empty.
Kris pursed her lips. âI donât like sad people, especially not at my party. Itâs not on brand.â
âI told you, Iâm not sad.â Farrah pasted on a smile.
âYouâre lying, as I suspected you would. But Iâve decided to try and be a nicer person this year soâ¦â Kris hesitated, looking uncharacteristically nervous. âI did a thing, which Liv may or may not have put me up to.â
Every warning bell in Farrahâs head clanged. âWhat did you guys do?â
Instead of answering, Kris pointed her chin at something over Farrahâs shoulder.
Farrah knew.
Even before she turned around, she knew whatâor whoâwas behind her. The tingle on her skin, the racing of her heartâ¦her body reacted before her eyes confirmed her suspicions.
Blake Ryan. Here. In L.A., in Krisâs house, standing not six feet from her.
He wore a tailored blazer over a white dress shirt, bow tie, and slim-fit black pants that showed off his lean, muscular frame in all its glory. His hair was just tousled enough to keep it from looking too perfect, and his lips quirked up in a small, sheepish smile that did strange things to Farrahâs stomach. He carried a small, gift-wrapped box in one hand.
âHi,â Blake said softly. âCan we talk?â