Dating Games(87)

“You’re right.” His expression turns serious, his eyes trained on me. “It’s not,” he admits in a soft voice. “Open it.”

I hold his gaze for a moment, then shift it to the box. Butterflies flap their relentless wings in my stomach as I slowly raise the lid. When I set my eyes on what’s contained within, all the wind is knocked from my lungs. An exact replica of the necklace Audrey Hepburn’s character admires during the scene when she takes Paul to Tiffany’s for the first time. The light reflects against the stunning yellow-colored diamond in the center, the intricate latticework of diamonds along the neckline like a vine surrounding a lone flower.

“Julian…” I cover my mouth with my hand, speechless.

This isn’t the first piece of jewelry he’s purchased for me. I have an entire jewelry box in the dressing room filled with pieces to accent the various outfits I’ve worn over the course of the summer. This one is different. It’s something he’s given to me because he wanted to, not as a complement to my wardrobe.

“Now I know why Camille insisted I not wear the necklace Dana had paired with this dress.”

He grins a devious smile. “It’s good to have her on my side.” He winks, then extends his hand toward the box. “May I?”

I remain motionless as he takes it. He removes the stunning necklace, then stands behind me. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror hanging over the fireplace, watching as he brings it to my neck, securing it. When he’s finished, his hands stay on my shoulders. I touch my fingers to the stones. I’ve never worn such a weighty piece of jewelry in my life.

“Wow,” I murmur. “I’m not sure I want to know how much this cost, or how many carats I’m currently wearing around my neck.”

“The large stone is a forty-carat yellow diamond. A rarity. Ten carats in white diamonds accent the neckline.”

“So fifty carats worth of stones.” My breathing becomes labored as I try to grasp onto the concept. “Please don’t tell me what this cost you.”

“It’s not about the money. Not to me—”

“Because you have money.”

“All the more reason for me to do this for you, to give you something to show how appreciative I am for everything you’ve done for me this summer. This is the least I could do.”

I practically choke on my saliva. “I could understand giving me a Starbuck’s gift card or something, but this?” I spin around to face him. “I don’t feel right accepting.”

“You will accept it.” He grabs my hands in his, bringing them to his lips. He places a gentle kiss on each. “Please. Let me do this for you. Let me give you something to remember our time together.”

“I’ll never forget.” I lock eyes with him, silently pleading for him to acknowledge that our time together doesn’t have to end, that we don’t have to end. Why should it have to? Why should we walk away from each other because the summer’s over? Yes, that was the original plan — an end date so I could have my life back, so I could plan the rest of my life. Now I want nothing more than to deviate from the plan, to throw the planner out the window and see where this could take us.

“It doesn’t have to end,” I say, one last attempt as I touch my mouth to his. He kisses me softly, gently, but in his tenderness is more emotion than any of Trevor’s kisses could even hope to contain.

“It does, Guinevere. You deserve to be happy.” He pulls back, his fingers digging into the skin of my cheeks as he cups my face. “I can’t give that to you. I can’t give you more than this.”

I’ve heard the same thing all weekend whenever my emotions got the better of me in his presence. I want to push it more, but not at the risk of marring our last few hours together. Instead, I simply nod, my lips finding his once more.

The sound of the ocean waves fills the room from the open windows and we melt into each other, our kiss passionate, yet restrained, two words that describe Julian Gage perfectly. Despite how much I can tell he wants me, he’ll never admit it. To me, or himself.

When he pulls away, a hint of moisture dots his own eyes. “We’ll always have Tiffany’s.”

I pull my lips between my teeth as I struggle to swallow through the pain in my throat. “We’ll always have Tiffany’s.”





The Farewell Gala is exactly as I expect it to be — filled with glamour, pretension, and bravado, yet another display of extreme wealth amongst the country’s upper crust. But tonight, as opposed to the previous few weeks, Julian doesn’t leave my side to talk business with someone interested in investing in his project. Whenever anyone approaches, he requests they reach out to his assistant to set up a time for a meeting or a phone conference when he returns to the city on Tuesday.

The entire evening, he’s the perfect date, doting on me, making sure I have everything I need. More than once, part of me considers the possibility he’s acting like this because Ethan Ludlow seems to circle like a hawk, although to anyone else, he’s no more harmful than a parrot. Not to me, not after the story Sonia shared. And not to Julian, either. Despite that, I truly believe he stays with me because he doesn’t want to waste a second of the little time we have left.

Before I know it, Julian and I are dancing to the final song of the night, then saying our goodbyes to the friends I’ve made over the summer, some of them women who turned their noses up at me during that first pool party. It’s amazing how much can change in just a few months.