Page 74 of Angel Eyes

I had to hand it to James—he had me down to a tee.

There had been a time not so long ago when I’d sworn off relationships—not because I was afraid of commitment, but because I never wanted to be vulnerable again. Opening myself up had cost me a lot once, and the only way I knew to keep that from happening again was to seal off my emotions and shut everyone out.

But James was right—things were different with Juliet. She made me want to unlock every room in my heart and tell her to make herself at home. It had been a long time since I’d trusted anyone that way, but, by God, I wanted to trust her.

“Look, it was her idea, all right? I specifically asked her if she only wanted to be friends after we—well, anyway, I asked her, and she told me she thought it was for the best. Not that I blame her. She’s got a lot riding on her opportunity here, and the last thing I want is to mess it up by distracting her.”

“And you’re certain that’s the reason?” James glanced at me sidelong. “Because I don’t buy it. It’s more likely her hesitation has got something to do with you. You probably found a way to fuck it up without even realizing it.”

“Oh, piss off. I mean, yeah, I might’ve said I only wanted to be friends back when we were first getting to know each other. But she had a boyfriend then, so I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

“You don’t see why that’s relevant?” He gave me an incredulous look. “Well, this confirms it. I always knew I was the brains in this relationship, and you just the beauty.” He pushed a chair toward me before taking one opposite it. “Have a seat, mate. The tool cart can wait.”

I hesitated for half a beat before tossing down the cleaning rag and sinking onto the chair. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees as he studied me, and I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

The truth was, I didn’t have a clue about how to move things forward with Juliet. Like a complete idiot, I’d gone and stuck my foot in my mouth the first day we spent together at her place, waxing poetic about how I didn’t want a relationship and digging my own goddamn grave in the process. And then, instead of setting the record straight, I’d let the words sit out there for weeks, drying like cement until even the thought of confessing my feelings to her made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth.

The situation was hopeless.

“Did I ever tell you how I met Nora?”

My brows furrowed. “At a bar? A cycling event? An all-black clothing boutique?”

He snorted a laugh, pointing a finger at me. “I’m telling her you said that. No, believe it or not, I met her at the dentist. Well, actually, the first time I saw her was months before that when she visited the cycling studio where I used to teach spin classes, but we didn’t officially meet until she was five minutes away from having her fingers in my mouth. She was a dental hygienist.”

“Wow, that’s disturbing.”

“I know. Not how I pictured meeting my wife either, but, by the stars, she was beautiful.” He smiled, his eyes dropping to his hands. “My life was totally different back then. I was just an amateur cyclist with a dream and a kernel of hope that I could make it come true. I always loved being on a bike, ever since I was a kid. It’s the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground. Plus, I loved interacting with people, and I’d been holding on to an idea for years of how I could combine the two.”

My lips hooked up in one corner. “And here we are.”

“Indeed, here we are.”

“Why Paris, though?” I realized I had never asked him before.

“Summer before my fourth year at uni, I scratched together enough coin to come and see the final stage of the Tour de France. There I was on the Champs-Élysées, standing in a sea of people, sweating and craning my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the first cyclists to reach that final stretch. It was hot as sin, but as soon as I saw them rounding that corner, shiny helmets winking in the sunlight, my heart soared. I felt weightless watching them whiz by, the crowd cheering and waving. That’s when the idea for this place first hit me. Bicycling in Paris.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “And Nora?”

“Right, so four years later, I’m lying in a dentist’s chair with the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen gazing down at me. And you know what I did? I looked her straight in the eye and said, What do you say to marrying me and moving to Paris?”

I gaped at him. “And that worked? She came just like that?”

“No, she came later,” he said, winking suggestively. “But in all seriousness, I had to just put it all on the line, you know? I barely knew her, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I knew she was the one. And yeah, I could have tried for a lighter touch, but sometimes time isn’t on your side. Sometimes you just have to take a risk.”

I nodded, turning his words over in my mind. “Okay, so what should I do about Juliet?”

“Come now,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “I can’t do all the work for you. Besides, the finer details are up to you. First, figure out what it is you want. And if what you want is to be with Juliet, then tell her. But you can’t just spout sonnets—you also have to show her what’s possible, what she can expect if she takes a chance on you.”

Something that felt dangerously like hope stirred in my stomach as I contemplated what I might do, how I could show Juliet I believed we could be more if given the chance.

I blinked as an idea came to me.

“Hey, do you still have extra tickets to that charity gala?” I was already halfway across the room, grabbing my phone off the tool cart and flipping through my contacts.

“Yeah, why?”

“Good.” I strode for the door, the call already ringing in my ear. “Hold four for me.”

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