Aria stared at her mother. Well, Ali was both those things. “S-so you’re not mad?” she finally eked out.

Ella walked to the corner of the gallery and straightened a crooked landscape of the Brandywine River. “The transaction has nothing to do with you, honey. We all know that. Besides, your agent told me that this scandal has actually drummed up more interest in your paintings. The buyer in Maine specifically bought something after that Post article came out. Sasha was there when he came in—said he was a youngish guy, mid-thirties, super-artsy. His name was Gerald French.”

Aria blinked hard. So Ali’s plans to ruin her actually hadn’t worked? She almost couldn’t swallow it. She looked around, waiting for the gallery to explode or Ella to drop to her knees, severely food-poisoned. Something. But Ella just smiled at her warmly, then moved into the back room, where they kept the inventory.

The bells on the door chimed again, and Aria turned. “Oh my God,” she blurted, her mouth moving before her brain. Standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, was Noel.

A nervous expression flashed across Noel’s face. Aria felt the blood rushing to her cheeks once more. The memory of their kiss in the bathroom pulsed in her mind. With all of the Ali and art stuff, she’d pushed it to the back burner.

“Uh, hey,” Noel said. He licked his lips. “I wanted to see if you were, like, okay. They were looking for you at the party last night. No one could find you.”

“I’m fine,” Aria said. She stared at the floor. “Thanks for checking in.”

“Of course I was going to check in.”

Aria whipped her head up, filled with a sudden confusion—and anger. “What do you mean, of course? I’ve been pretty much dead to you.”

“Yeah, well, I think that was a mistake.” His eyes were crinkled and filled with remorse. He seemed serious. A crack opened inside her. Did he want her back?

Aria wanted that to be enough, but suddenly she felt so exhausted. “Noel, you’ve put me on a roller coaster the last few weeks,” she said. “I’ve been up, then down, then miserable. I was just starting to feel better about things when last night happened.”

“I know.”

“I mean, first you want to be apart, then you’re with Scarlett, then you kiss me, then you run away, and—”

“I know,” Noel interrupted. He took a tentative step forward. “Not to mention what I did to you before all that.”

“You basically . . . dropped me,” Aria said, feeling choked up.

“I never really dropped you,” Noel said gently. “And I’m sorry—for everything.”

“But what about Scarlett?”

“We broke up. She’s just . . . not you.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I thought putting some distance between us would give us time to . . . think, maybe. Process. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve followed your art success, you know. It’s so amazing. And then that story that came out today—I know what that’s about, too.”

Aria looked at him sharply. “What do you mean, you know?”

Noel’s mouth twitched. “I think I know who’s behind it. Am I right?”

Aria glanced over her shoulder, but Ella was still in the back.

She gave Noel the tiniest nod. “She has a lot of fans,” was all she said.

Noel nodded back. “Well, I hope you know I’m not one of them.”

Aria drew in a breath. That hadn’t even occurred to her . . . but maybe it should have. He had been manipulated by Ali once before. Then she sighed. “Well, just because you know about it doesn’t mean you’re getting involved.”

“I hope you’re not getting involved, either.”

Aria shrugged. It wasn’t worth explaining to him right now. Hopefully it was over.

Noel shuffled his feet. “But aside from that, I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Aria felt a lump in her throat. “I can’t stop thinking about you, either. But, I mean—”

Noel cut her off. With the tip of his finger, he tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. “Isn’t that enough for us to try again?” he asked.

Aria pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. Noel’s skin smelled like the oatmeal soap his mom always put in the family’s powder room. And when she looked at his fingers, still on her chin, she realized she knew every inch of his hands by heart—the scar on the side of his thumb from the time he’d cut himself carving a Halloween pumpkin, how his palms got chapped in the winter, the raised bump on the back of his hand from an old burn he didn’t remember getting. She thought she knew him by heart, too—but he had surprised her lately. And they weren’t good surprises, either. How would he surprise her in the future?

If only she lived in a world with no surprises—no Ali coming back to life, no evil A notes, no horrible secrets that a boyfriend kept from her for years. But would that also mean she’d miss out on good surprises, too? Like Typical Rosewood Noel Kahn turning out to be not Typical Rosewood at all. Like the art world accepting her anyway, despite Ali’s best efforts.

Like Noel coming to his senses and wanting the space between them to close.

Aria lifted his fingers from her chin. After a breath, she leaned forward, as she’d done so many times before.

Yes, her mind said as they kissed. This was right. This was home.

34

SPENCER BOOKS IT

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Spencer’s email in-box was chiming nonstop. She picked up her phone for the sixth time that minute and glanced at the screen, anxious that it might have something to do with whatever the police had found at the pool house. She’d set up Google Alerts for “Alison DiLaurentis,” “Nicholas Maxwell,” even the property’s address. But over and over, it was another email from people who’d contributed to the bullying site, congratulating her for being part of the anti-bullying group’s video. Last night, the organization had sent out a press release talking about the film. Spencer’s name and credentials had been mentioned.




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