The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(55)

He isn’t smiling in the picture. He isn’t even posing in the picture. He’s standing there in scrubs talking to someone, looking distracted and pissy and perfect and I just…miss him. That’s all there is to it. I miss him so much that it makes everything else pale by contrast. I’ve avoided looking Josh up online for this very reason—because I knew it would hurt, and because I knew there’d be this swirl of longing in my chest and I’d have nowhere to go with it.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.

“Does he know you’re not with his brother?” she asks. “That might help.”

I nod. “I told Beth and I’m sure she’s told Josh,” I reply. “He’s the person she seems to lean on the most.”

I want Tali to give me an excuse for why I haven’t heard from him, but there’s nothing. All I see in her eyes is sympathy right now, as if this is a story that’s already come to a close.





When I get back to the hotel, I climb into bed and stay there. I don’t run. I don’t worry about what I’m eating. My hygiene is questionable at best, but I figure it’s my last hurrah: once the tour begins, it’ll be upkeep and starvation 24/7. It always is.

I’m still in bed on Sunday, the day before I leave, when my cell rings. The moment I see Beth’s name the fog hanging over me vanishes. I sit up, yanking my eye mask off the top of my head. I can't stop the small thrill in my chest, though she’s probably just calling about the scarf or to discuss the breakup.

"Drew!" she cries, "I'm so happy I caught you. You weren’t asleep, were you?”

I force a laugh. “Of course not,” I reply. “It’s…” I look at the clock. “After one.”

“We’re having lunch at the Chateau and I just heard someone say you’re staying here in the hotel. Are you around? Can you pop by to say hello?"

I want to ask who's coming as I agree, but I don’t.

Instead, I literally run into the shower, yelping at the cold water as I start to scrub, already scolding myself. “Josh won’t be there,” I announce to the shower walls. “And you’re an idiot getting your hopes up about nothing.”

What would I even say if he was there? It's not as if I can tell him in front of his parents that nothing but him has mattered to me since that moment in the airport, and probably long before that. I won’t be able to say anything at all. And if it mattered to him that I wasn’t with his brother he’d have said something by now.

I scrape my wet hair back from my face and pull it up into a bun, dab on a bit of lip gloss and mascara and pull a silk tank and skirt out of my closet, the kind of thing a publicist might wear but Drew Wilson would not.

I approve of the girl I see in the mirror. She looks exotic, French. Audrey Hepburn with lighter hair and a decent tan. I want Josh to be there so badly I can taste it. I want him to be there so badly I'm not sure I'll be able to stand my disappointment if he isn't.

I walk from my room to the restaurant’s patio which sits under the graceful arch of palms, diluting the sun overhead. Planters divide the space but I notice heads turning as I approach. My new hair is still a miracle, however…people suspect I’m someone, but until they can put a name with my face, I get to remain anonymous. And I want anonymity more than anything right now, because in a moment I will either appear thrilled or devastated and there is no middle ground.

I’m about to approach the hostess when I see him.

Josh.

In khakis and a button-down, sleeves rolled up, looking impossibly beautiful. I remember ridiculing him for wearing that exact outfit when I arrived in Honolulu. Now I'm thinking I’ve never seen anything hotter in my life. It’s as if he is suddenly the prototype upon which my tastes are created—if he decided to start wearing tank tops and Speedos, as unlikely as that is, I’d probably decide that also was my favorite outfit.

His eyes lock on mine, and there’s a hard stab of want in my abdomen at the sight of him.

"I see them," I tell the hostess, my voice admirably calm and adult.

I make my way toward the table with the strangest mix of euphoria and fear swimming in my stomach, like nothing I’ve ever felt, even walking on stage. I worry it’s all written on my face.

The Baileys rise as I approach. I hug Beth, and even Jim, and then I turn to face Josh. How did I forget how tall he is? Even in my small heels he looks like a giant above me.

He steps forward. I wouldn’t say he looks happy to see me. It’s more as if I’m something he unwillingly can’t look away from. His arms wrap around me all too briefly.

"How have you been?" he asks. His voice is cool with disinterest.

I feel like I’ve been punched and I’m mad at myself for expecting anything from him in the first place.

"Good," I lie. My throat sounds like it’s full of gravel. "Really good. I leave for New York tomorrow."

He nods and pulls out a chair for me beside him. Only remnants of their lunch remain. I wish I’d skipped the shower so I had more time with him. I also wish I hadn’t come at all.

Beth starts telling me all about how he’s testifying to Congress later in the week. “You’ll have to watch him on C-SPAN if you get a chance,” she urges, pride shining in her eyes.