Page 49 of The Uncomplicated Café
Sam took his hand, and together, they walked toward the car.
Max climbed inside.
The door shut with a resoundingslam.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Logan’s gaze followed Max’s outline through the rear window, tracing his silhouette.
Abby leaned into him, and he drew her to his side.
Neither of them cried.
They merely stood in the silence of their shared suffering.
It was the silence that scared him the most.
Tears he could handle. Tears could heal.
But silent grief swept over a person like a noxious gas, promising to numb the pain while it quietly stole their life away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
CECE
CeCe steppedin 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 ahappily ever afterthat 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.
