Page 104 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

Still, a tiny snake of jealousy slithers through me as I head into the shop. Not sure why. Maybe it’s because William had access to Jude when I didn’t. Does William even know how lucky he is? But that’s a dumb thing to be jealous about. Still, as I order the drinks, I noodle on these strange feelings of envy. Except, is it envy? Maybe it’s worry—the worry that the people I tell my secrets to aren’t so safe after all. Maybe they’ll eventually spill them to the people I keep them from.

Or maybe I’m a paranoid writer, always seeing ten thousand ways something can go wrong. Since that’s what I do for my characters. Throw rocks at them, especially when things start to seem easy.

I shove the worries away.

With the cups in hand, I tip the guy at the counter, head outside, and sit with Jude, sliding the Earl Grey to him.

Jude thanks me, then grabs his phone. “And now, as I said, I have a little something for you.”

My dumb heart flips before he even gives whatever it is to me. “Yeah?” I ask, probably sounding all dopey to him.

Jude moves closer. His shoulder touches mine as he shows me the screen. I freeze.

Are you kidding me?

I turn my gaze to him in slow motion, awe coasting down my spine. “You took a picture ofYes Manat An Open Book?”

The evidence is there on his phone, yet I can’t quite believe it.

“I did,” he says, sounding nervous, but happy too. “I figured you’d want to see it someday. I took it and held on to it.”

I can barely catch my breath from what he’s saying, and more so, what it’s doing to the organ in my chest. “When did you take it?”

“When it released.”

“You went in there. Took a picture of it on the shelves. And you’ve held on to this for five years?”

“I did. I held on to it for you,” he says, his warm, rich voice reaching deep into my chest, touching me in a place only he ever has.

This can’t be happening so fast. I can’t let it. I don’t even know what to do withthis. My heart is out of fucking control. My emotions are spiraling. All I want is him.

I won’t say that yet, so instead I tell him a story so he’ll know what this gift means to me. “My brother bought a gift for me long ago. A travel journal. It meant a lot to me because he got it at that store on Cecil Court when we were thirteen. The one where?—”

“Where we met again,” he supplies, his eyes locked with mine.

“Yes. That one. Chance held on to it for ten years. He gave it to me when I went to London a second time,” I say, and every word I share is like stripping off a layer of self-protection, letting Jude into my mind, into my most private thoughts. “It meant a lot to me because it said he knew me. I hadn’t even told him I wanted to write a novel, but he knew I’d need to write down my thoughts.” I take a breath, prepping to say the next thing. “I wrote in it when I was in London. About the city. About places,” I say, swallowing around a knot of emotions as I start my true confession.

“You did?” Jude sounds like he’s hanging on to the edge of the world.

“About people too,” I add softly. “I even mentioned this guy I met.”

“Did you?” he asks, like he’s amazed that he inspired me.

Heat rushes over my skin. I’m caught in the haze of Jude once again. “I did.”

“I hope you said nice things about him,” he says, then runs his hand over my shoulder, along my neck, lighting me all the way up.

“Very nice things,” I whisper.

If I say more I will tell him what I only ever admitted on paper. Deeply personal, deeply private words that I’d never want to share with anyone. “That journal meant a lot to me because Chance held on to it over the years. He waited for the right moment. He wanted it to matter. That’s why I loved the gift. And now, this picture you took?”

“Yes?” That one-word question is full of the same hope I feel.

“It matters to me because you took it. You held on to it. That’s why I love it. This is my new favorite thing.”

And so are you, Jude Fox.

I’m so close to breathing those risky words out loud.

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