Page 72 of The Dating Pact

“Holland.”

“Like the country?”

“I don’t think anyone calls it that anymore,” I said, still smiling like an idiot.

“All right. You have fun with the Netherlands or whatever. I’ve got to pick Seb up from his friend’s house.”

“Okay.”

“Text me when you get home. I want to hear how terrible the date was.”

“That’s not very kind of you,” I teased because I supposed all our pretenses were gone.

“I’ve come to realize I don’t want to be gracious when it comes to your time and attention.”

I bit into my cheek. Honestly, I feared my cheeks would crack. “But it would be rude of me not to give him my time and attention right now.”

“Arguable, but fine. Text me later.”

“I will.”

I hung up and took a deep breath, composing myself before heading back out to Holland. I was giddy after that phone call, not because I knew what was happening between Jude and me, but that something was happening. He was still my friend—the same guy who would do anything if I asked—but he was also a guy I had feelings for. Big feelings.

When I returned to the table, Holland gave me a questioning look over the rim of his wineglass. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” I slid back into my seat. “I had to sort out some plans for my sister’s wedding this weekend.”

We’d discussed our families earlier, and I’d made him aware of Sabrina’s big day, but the way he smiled at me made me think he was more than politely interested. Like, maybe, he thought I’d invite him.

He proved my instincts correct when he asked, “Are you bringing a date?”

I refused to break eye contact. Better to get it over with. “A friend, yes.”

“Great.” He nodded absently a few times, his features going blank as if he needed time to compute. He blinked. “So, I was about to ask if you wanted to order another round of drinks? Or maybe dessert to share?”

“I don’t think so.”

He nodded again, this time understanding, and signaled for our server. When the check arrived, I offered to pay for my meal, but Holland refused. He walked me to my car, his hands in his pockets.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” I said, hoping to mitigate some of the awkward tension.

“Yeah, you too. I hope everything works out with your friend.”

“Oh, it’s…” I stopped myself. Because, yes, it was exactly like that, but I didn’t know how he knew.

“You looked different when you came back,” he explained. “That kind of glow people get when they’re in love.” He reached out, gently squeezing my elbow with a quiet goodbye, leaving me completely breathless.

Is that what I was? In love?

I’d thought I’d loved Tom, but what I felt for Jude was different. I’d skipped over the butterflies, the will he/won’t he angst, already so steady and secure in our relationship. We were friends first, and I guess I’d loved him all along, but only began thinking of him in a different light these past few weeks.

As I drove home, my mind kept drifting back to how Jude had sounded almost…territorial? Possessive? The idea sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the air vents aimed directly at me.

Still, I couldn’t get ahead of myself. Jude and I would have a lot to talk about, though the realization that we would have those conversations settled me. His friendship was the most important relationship in my life, and whatever came from this, we had to keep that sacred. But I knew him—I knew my best friend—and he didn’t make any rash decisions, especially when it affected his family. I also wanted to respect the kids and give them whatever they needed, first and foremost. Figuring out our future would be slow and probably not easy, but it would definitely be worth it.

Parked in front of my condo, I headed right upstairs to kick off my shoes and flop onto my bed like a teenager about to text her first crush. Dorothy curled up next to me, and I petted her with one hand while I typed with the other.

Home.

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