Page 230 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

Life is hard, and we’re here for each other.

“Hi,” I say softly to the guy I adore.

“Hey, you.” His voice is tender too, a spark returning to his eyes.

Holly clears her throat. “Let’s do this, gentlemen. I have dinner reservations.” She’s kind but firm as she shoos Jude inside. Slade follows. “No time to linger in the hall either.”

Slade shepherds us tomycouch like we’re chastened children. That’s what we’ve always been to him. “How the hell didThe Hollywood Scoopknow we were gonna have you post a breakup letter?”

Is that a real question? “She made a lucky guess,” I say.

Then I can’t help myself—I steal a glance at Jude.

It’s been days since I saw him. God, he looks good, even after traveling all day. His hair is messy, but his blue eyes are bright now. I want to run a hand through his hair. He raises an eyebrow as if he catches me looking at him. And like he likes it. My heart pounds in my ears.

“And breakup lettersarecustomary,” Jude adds, in a calm voice to soothe the PR guy.

Slade is wound all the way up, though. “I know that, but how did Rikki know that?”

Mason scoffs. “She knows everything, Slade.”

The publicist grips his bald head, clearly pissed that his plan went belly up.

I’m not pissed, though. I’monlyworried about Jude and whether this news is affecting him. When he sneaks a hand toward me on the couch cushion, I feel warm everywhere. We’re in this together.

“We’re going to have to double down,” Slade begins, counting off on his fingers.

“More dates, you mean?” Holly asks wearily.

“Dates, appearances, press,” Slade says, rambling on.

Mason sighs, then shakes his head. “I’m not sure we should. Sometimes you have to cut your losses.”

Holly nods thoughtfully. “Exactly. We might have done enough at this point. Best to tackle this another way.”

Jude doesn’t even look at her as he inches closer to me. He’s not bothered by any of this career triage. All he cares about is touching me.

That’s when it hits me—he told Holly the truth, just like I told Mason. Our story is no longer up to them. It’s ours.

“I’m thinking a coffee run in a few minutes. Maybe along Fifth Avenue for everyone to see,” Slade rattles. “A walk along Central Park. A dinner. More posts, more dates, more?—”

“Nope.” I stand, cutting him off, then head to the door, open it, and gesture for them to get the hell out. “Not that I don’t appreciate your willingness to come over on a Friday afternoon, and not that I don’t value all you’ve done for Jude and me, but you all need to go. Now. Enjoy your night. I’ve got a real date with Jude, right here, right now, and it doesn’t involve anyone but us.”

Across the living room, my boyfriend smiles. His spotlight shines beautifully on me.

Just me.

My heart thuds like a drum. Yeah, I made the right call kicking them out.

“Well, then,” Holly says, but her lips twitch into a grin as she heads to the door.

Mason is all too happy to ditch us. “Clutch. Fucking clutch, TJ. Put that move in your next book. Make the laidback hero say it and it’ll get all the readers hot,” Mason says on his way to the door.

I laugh. “Get out of here.”

Slade sputters, “But wait. Hold on. We need to?—”

Mason slaps a hand on Slade’s mouth. “Sometimes you have to let the kids do their thing.”

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