Page 107 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

I groan privately, then fasten on a smile before I turn to face the good-looking blond dude behind me. “That’s me.”

He sighs in relief, even wiping his hand across his forehead. “I hoped so. I saw your video this morning. A colleague sent it to me.”

Oh, joy.

“And I had to introduce myself. Couldn’t miss the chance—I am one hundred percent Team TJ.”

He reaches for his phone, and since I don’t want to prolong this encounter, I cut to the chase. “Sure. We can take a selfie.”

“I won’t turn that down.”

He slides in next to me, and we smile for the camera. When he slips the phone into his pocket, I’m ready to take off, but he puts a hand on my shoulder. “That’s not the reason I’m interrupting your intermission,” he says, his tone shifting to all business.

“Okay?”

“I started your book right after I saw the video. Holy balls. It’s amazing. The romance, the humor, the angst as he falls for his best friend’s brother. I’m halfway done and it’s...” He presses his fingers to his lips in a chef’s kiss.

“That’s great,” I say, my shoulders relaxing. At least the video’s been good for one solid book sale.

“I work at Webflix. I could totally see your book being a film. A TV show. Anything,” he says, then gives me his name.

Robert Walsh.

I flashback to the conversation Jude and I had in London.

Robbys are wankers.

This guy probably is. And besides, it’s Hollywood. My agent’s parting words on this topic were:Hollywood will start calling, but don’t believe a deal is done till the ink is dry. And even then, it’ll likely be in disappearing ink.

I do love being repped by a realist.I smile like Mason would want me to.

When Robert asks for my agent’s name and says he’ll be in touch, I figure nothing will come of it, even after I grab my water, then Google his name when I’m back in my seat, and learn he is indeed an executive at Webflix.

But who isn’t these days? I don’t even email Mason. Besides, I’m here for Jude.

I settle back in and watch the second act, where the entire cast transports me to London, the place where I was happiest. Except Los Angeles is making a damn good case to snag that top spot.

When the cast takes the curtain call together, I can’t contain the biggest smile I’ve ever felt.

That’s my guy, on stage, captivating a packed house.

After one more group bow, Jude scans the audience and quickly, very quickly, his eyes land on me. He flashes a smile that’s both for the entire theater and for one guy only. And it says:when everyone is gone, you’re the one I’ll leave with.

It’s the most intimately his spotlight has ever shone on me, and I don’t want him to ever turn it off.

After a long line of autograph-hunters finally peters out, it’s just William, Jude, and me outside his dressing room.

“So glad you could be here,” Jude says to the fellow Brit. “I did not expect to see you.”

“I like to surprise you,” William says, then hands him a box of chocolates.

Jude grins. “You’re the best. Thank you, mate.”

Then William kisses Jude on the cheek. I burn a little. Okay, a lot. William steps back. “My band is playing at The Holy Cow this week. The club is ten times better than the hole-in-the-walljoint you saw me play at in London. You men should come see me. I’ll get you VIP tix,” he says to both of us.

I don’t even have a chance to fashion a reply since Jude’s got this handled entirely. “Send me the details. You never know if it’ll work out,” he says and it’s a perfect answer, since it’s perfectly noncommittal.

William drops a kiss to my cheek and turns around. As his boots clomp on the floorboards, Jude surveys the backstage area, grabs my hand, and hauls me into his dressing room. “Love him, but I thought he’d never leave,” he whispers, sounding relieved as he snicks the door shut.

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