I bite my bottom lip, suddenly at a complete loss for words.
“Oh look!” Layla says, but I can’t pull my eyes off Axelle. “There’s Jonah.”
I feel the people around us shift, as if they’re walking away, but not before Fleur’s voice is at my ear. “Will you be alright?”
Axelle rips her gaze from mine, and I could cry from the loss of it, but it zeroes in on Fleur in a way that makes me feel like I need to stand between them.
“I’m fine.”
I register the absence of her presence and take a hesitant step toward Axelle.
Her eyes dart from Fleur’s retreat to me.
“I missed you.” I cringe as the pathetic, but true, words fall from my lips.
She grins; it’s small and sweet and so fucking gorgeous it hurts. “Really?”
I blink at the disbelief in her voice. How can she even question that? “Yes.”
She nervously tugs on the front of her shirt, pulling it tight across her breasts, and my mouth waters at the memory of their taste, the feel of them in my hands, the—
Wait. I point to the embroidered logo on her chest. “UFL?”
“Yeah, I work here now.”
The room, the guy stumbling out… My mind slowly connects it all. “Doing sports therapy or…”
“Massage.” She draws her shoulders back in a sense of accomplishment. “I got my license last month.”
She was a business major. “What about school?”
She licks her lips and looks around as if to see who might hear. “It’s a long story. I dropped out shortly after you left.”
The baby. Of course. I’m sure finishing up college while pregnant isn’t ideal. “Right, that makes sense.”
Her breath shakes with a deep inhale. “You…” She motions to me, her eyes roaming over my designer clothes that I never felt ashamed of until now. “Wow…you’re looking very…successful.”
I step closer to her, and the urge to pull her in my arms and feel her, remind her that behind the designer labels I’m still me, is overpowering. She takes a retreating step as if she can read my intent and then holds up her hands. “Massage oil. I wouldn’t want to ruin your nice clothes.”
Rejected. I cross my arms over my chest to keep from touching her. “How’s everything else?” Clifford. The baby.
“Good.” A high-pitched squeal calls her eyes away from mine, and I stare at her profile as she squints off into the distance. “Wow, your girlfriend really likes Jonah.”
Girlfriend? I whip my head around to see Fleur wrapped around Jonah’s leg and Ollie trying to pull her off as they argue back and forth in French. Luckily, Jonah doesn’t seem too pissed off, and Blake’s laughing so hard his face is bright red from it.
I turn back to Ax. “Fleur and I—”
“Axelle, beautiful, are you ready for me?”
I instinctively step in front of her and glare at a half-naked fighter.
She leans around me. “Give me two minutes, Jose?”
“Sure thing, mami.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Hey, I know you.” His eyes brighten. “You’re Quick Kill, yeah?”
“Yeah, and you’re Jose.” Fucking talking to my girl like she’s some piece of ass.
My girl? She could be married, but I didn’t notice a ring. Maybe she takes it off to do massage. Dammit, there’s so much I still don’t know.
“Jose?” Axelle says again. “Two minutes and then you can fawn over the superstar all you want.”
I turn back to her, not at all comfortable with her tone. She said superstar like it’s some joke.
“Killian, it was really great to see you, and I’m so happy you’re doing well.”
My chin tucks in to my throat. “So that’s it?”
“What’s it?”
I blink, shocked after everything we’ve been through that she can so easily blow me off. “It’s been a year. I thought…” I rub the back of my neck, hating the fact that I want to beg. “Forget it.”
“Okay.” She smiles sweetly, not a hint of regret in her expression. “I’ll see you around.” She waves Jose over.
“Wait.” I move in close without even thinking about it. “Can I call you?” This is wrong. She’s my best friend, and it’s like there’s a canyon between us.
She doesn’t answer immediately, which seriously pisses me off, and then nods. “Sure, I’ll give you my number.”
I glare at Jose, who’s studying us like he’s watching mold grow. “I have your number.”
“Ha…could’ve fooled me.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugs. “I’m surprised you have my number, seeing as you never use it.”
I open my mouth to defend myself, but slam it shut because I don’t have a defense. She’s right.
She disappears into her massage room and comes out with a card. “I have a new number anyway, as of a couple of months ago.” She passes the card to me.
Axelle Daniels
Massage Therapist
Not married. I breathe a sigh of relief as hope floods my chest.
“I tried to call you,” she whispers. “After you left, I called.”
“I left my phone.” Because I was afraid of what one more word from you would do to me.