"You don''t know either? Back in college, loads of people had crushes on him, but he never even nced at anyone. Then after his car ident, it was like he had some kind of epiphany. Out of nowhere, he just said he liked someone. I was still stuck in the hospital bed when I heard, and honestly, it broke my heart for ages."
That person was you.
Sylvia typed out the words, stared at them for a moment, then deleted them.
This wasn''t her confession to make. That was Rupert''s story to tell, not hers. She replied honestly instead: "You know how my mom and Edwin are. Uncle Rupert came back to the States right after college. I didn''t join the Garcias untilter, so I really don''t know."
"Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot."
"No worries. I''ve got to run now."
"Okay."
Sylvia put down her phone and stared nkly at herptop screen, unable to sketch out even a rough draft of her design.
Just then, Eloise stopped by her desk and tapped her on the shoulder. "You alright?"
"Yeah, just a little tired. Did you need something, Ms. Eloise?" Sylvia straightened up and tried to sound energetic.
"There''s a client flying out tomorrow morning. I need you to meet him at the hotel restaurant and go over the custom jewelry designs face-to-face. I''ll send you the reservation details."
"Sounds good."
Eloise had already messaged her the info before Sylvia finished speaking. On her way home, Sylvia pulled out her phone to double-check the restaurant address, but a new tweet from Reese popped up instead.
It was a photo of Reese and Rupert having dinner-looked like they were at Rupert''s ce in Soho Bay. Sylvia recognized the tes. Home-cooked food, a vase of fresh flowers in the middle of the table. Cozy, intimate, a real date-night vibe.
Guess that ce was about to get ady of the house.
Rupert looked especially calm in Reese''s photo, his gaze lowered, longshes casting a shadow over his sharp features. He''d rolled his shirt sleeves up twice, giving him a rxed, at-home look.
He probably only ever let his guard down like that in front of Reese.
Right then, Sylvia felt more certain than ever: the person Rupert cared about was Reese. She must have just gotten it wrong before. Now everything made sense.
She shut off her phone and leaned against the car window, watching the city lights blur by, her mindpletely nk.
It didn''t exactly hurt.
But it felt like someone was scraping out the parts of her heart that didn''t belong, slowly, with a dull de. Not sharp, but deeply ufortable.
...
It was a freezing, rainy winter day by the time Sylvia hurried into the restaurant, just barely on time.
She checked the reservation info on her phone and nced up at table 27.
A man sat there with his back to her, sipping coffee. Had to be Eloise''s client.
Sylvia smoothed her damp hair and walked over quickly.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, sir."
She''d barely sat down when she met the man''s amber eyes.
They both hesitated for a split second.
almond-shaped eyesheet
He was striking-those sharp,
aristocratic face that gave away.
He studied her face for a few seconds, then looked away, all business.
He checked his watch. "You''rete."
"It''s pouring out there and traffic was a nightmare," Sylvia exined.
"That''s not an excuse. I don''t have time to waste waiting for you."
He wasn''t wrong, but still. Sylvia couldn''t believe it—she was only thirty seconds
But hey, clients are always right, right?
She forced a polite smile. "Well, sir, actually—"
"Fake smile?"
"Uh-no." Sylvia bit back, then
quickly changed the subject. "Le
just get started, shall we?"
swcontent
"You''re not the right fit."
"I haven''t even started the presentation!" Sylvia gaped at him.
"I don''t like your type," the man said tly.
"Well,
We''re here to pick
type it worry, sir. I don''t like your jewelry designs, not wives!" she he
jeworry, sir. I don''t like your
annoyed.
sw belongs
Who rejects a designer before even seeing their work?
The guy set his coffee down and frowned. "Actually, I''m here to pick a wife."
What?!