“You wouldn’t believe how much my cleaner is charging to housesit my apartment and Diana. It’s extortion. Did you know that cat is awake between two and four A.M every morning? She’s killing me. Maybe my tenant can own seven cats. By the way, take a look at this.” Jamie holds up his phone. Mom has sent a picture of Patty, sunbathing on a beach towel. It’s nice she’s getting her own vacation.

I won’t let Jamie off the hook. “Nope. Diana is yours. Every evil genius needs a fluffy cat to stroke.” I give him a final squeeze and release him. When I look up, my brother is looking at the crowd.

“Wait, isn’t that—”

“My second surprise for Darcy.” Tom tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Holy crap,” Jamie laughs.

Through the crowd, I see my second gift. It’s Truly, and she’s got a suitcase big enough to stuff a dead body into. She has heart-shaped sunglasses on top of her head. She can’t get through this throng of people. She stands on tiptoe, waves, and makes a frustrated face.

“Here’s the girl who’s gonna drink whiskey with you before lunch,” Jamie says. His eyes are that bright cornflower blue that belies his excitement and pleasure. I think of him dragging Truly past a jewelry store. I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but I think Jamie will get his way one day.

“Tom.” I want to cry. “Too perfect.”

Jamie transfers me into Tom’s arms. “I’ll help her.” He walks through the crowd, like the blond artillery tank that he is, and extricates her suitcase handle from her grip. She takes it back. They argue and Jamie begins to try to charm her into a better mood. His fingertip touches her sunglasses. His hand cups her elbow and squeezes. She laughs out loud, unwilling, and when the music they’re piping through the cruise ship terminal changes, Jamie begins to dance, silly and mock-sexy.

There’s chemistry oozing out of them in pink clouds, and now Tom and I aren’t the only hot couple that people can’t take their eyes off.

Tom’s gently amused. “I really am a smart guy.”

Jamie and Truly assemble next to us, and again I feel a little bit of their vulnerability as they both stare at Tom’s arms around me. They feel like they’re intruding.

“My best girl is here.” I lean into Truly. “How’s Holly working out for you?” Our joint resignations to the bar was such a high-five moment. Holly and I walked out of that place side by side, bought a cake and ate it on the hood of my car.

“She’s fabulous.” Truly says with a kiss on my cheek. “I owe you big-time. Remind me to show you my garment tech packs later. I’m getting closer.” Her dream of upscaling her business is so close we can taste it.

“When that happens for you, I’ll be able to die happy.” I smile at her.

“You can live happy,” Tom corrects me. “Hey, did you bring that thing I asked you for, Jamie?”

My brother is taken aback. “You want to do that here?”

“No more secrets from this point forward.” Tom takes out a velvet jewelry box and my heart drops out of my body. But before I can process it, Jamie does the same. They swap boxes. I recognize the one that is now in Tom’s hand.

“Is that—” It’s Loretta’s sapphire. I know it. The patina on the old leather box is as familiar to me as the skin on my hands. “Tom, gimme it.” I jump for it but he’s holding it above his head, and he’s six-six, stretched up forever.

“You swapped, for Megan’s ring? Oh, pretty.” Truly looks in the box Jamie has snapped open to show her. “But that’s tacky of you,” she amends.

“Tacky? How? I got a good deal on this,” Jamie protests. “The clarity and cut on this are phenomenal. Tom’s got good taste,” he finishes with his usual lack of tact.

“But this belonged to someone else, and she loved it,” Truly chides him softly. “Whoever you marry one day will have someone else’s ring on her hand.”

“That’s not a practical way of looking at it,” Jamie argues back. “Darce, stop jumping.” He stuffs Megan’s ring in his pocket. “Now you’ve made me think,” he says to Truly, grouchy. “Tom, maybe I want to swap back.”

“Sorry, a deal’s a deal.” Tom is completely unrepentant. He’s crowded me against the pillar again. Behind my eyes, every time I blink, I see sapphires. Black sapphires. Refracting, dark and mysterious and brilliant. I want them. I need them.

I want the name Valeska on me so bad I could scream, and I think he knows it from the way he’s looking at me.

“Oh, that’s us,” Jamie says as boarding is announced. “Let’s go and get elderly.” He gathers up Truly’s bag and begins to herd her toward the gangway.

“I want it.” I touch my fingers to the square lump in Tom’s pocket.

“I know. That’s why I did a deal with the devil.” His eyes shine in amusement as people begin to stream past us. The sound of a thousand suitcase wheels is deafening. “Now, are you sure you want to live in a tent with me when we get back?”

“Very sure. I’m deputy site manager, after all. I need to be on hand.”

He still can’t conceive of it. To him, princesses don’t sleep on the ground. “Because the moment we find a house that you want to keep, I’ll make it your home. Everything you want it to be. It’ll have a photography studio, and—”

“Come on, guys, you can make out on the boat!” Jamie turns and shouts at us. “We’re going.”

“I want it,” I repeat. I mean the house, the ring, and him. The future. “I love you and I want it.”

Tom leans down to kiss my pout. “Have you earned it?”

I falter. I shake my head automatically. “How can I possibly earn you?”

He removes my tremor of doubt as only he can. “You earn me daily. Come on. You know I give you everything you want. Just relax. Let me spoil Darcy Barrett a little, for the rest of her life. Let me get a taste of that feeling.”

All I can say is, it tastes sweet.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to the following people for not bludgeoning me to death during the process of writing this book.

My husband, Roland, always responded You can when I wailed I can’t. Thanks for being right and for supporting me when writing unexpectedly changed my life. My mother, Sue, is my number one fan. My pug, Delia, is my second biggest fan.

Taylor Haggerty from Root Literary is my agent and my lighthouse across the sea. She has cheered me on with unfailing positivity. HarperCollins has been so patient with me as I found my feet again after the unexpected success of my debut. Carrie Feron is my editor and her calm confidence in me has meant the world.

Thank you to my friends, but these two in particular: Tina Gephart messaged me every afternoon to see if I was having a good writing day. Spoiler: I usually wasn’t, but Tina would still check in the next day. Thank you for being a friend and mentor. Thank you to Christina Hobbs for that long Skype call. I picked myself up off the floor one last time, and now I get to write this.

The Flamethrowers are a group of wonderful readers who found The Hating Game and loved the hell out of it. I wrote this book for all of you.