Page 43 of Me and Mr. Just Right

“What’s going on?” Bennett said quietly as he came over to help clean. Jules sat beside Lia on the couch and said something that made Lia laugh. He tried not to writhe with jealousy. Sure, they were still getting along great. Jules didn’t know who he was talking to.

“Nothing,” Haydn said.

“Bull.” Bennett stepped right in Haydn’s way so he couldn’t keep zooming back and forth around the kitchen to avoid making eye contact. “What happened out there?”

“It doesn’t matter, Ben. She goes home tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I thought you guys—”

“Well, you thought wrong,” he said, shutting the conversation down.

Bennett looked like he might say something more, but Haydn walked away before he could. He went into the bathroom to wash his hands and get some space. He knew he was being a jerk, but how could he explain something he didn’t even understand himself?

Why did it bother him so much to learn she was Aurelia Halfiax?

But he knew why—he just didn’t want to admit it. A part of him had hoped that they might find a way to stay in touch once she left the island. That he wouldn’t actually have to let her go. But their worlds were too different, and now he saw the week in an entirely different light. One where he was falling hard, while she was just having fun.

Not at his expense, though—he didn’t believe Lia would ever treat someone that poorly or use him to distract herself. He’d become more invested in their relationship than she had. And it stung.

But it was for the best.

He pressed his palms to the counter and stared at himself. He needed to stick to the plan—write his feature forRidgesand focus on his family. One week with someone couldn’t change years of focus.

Now if only he could believe it.

Chapter 20

Liaplayedchordafterchord, attempting to calm her thoughts. They buzzed around her mind like bees in a picnic, alighting on thoughts of Haydn, then starfish, then Alaska, then the Forrester brothers, and finally how much she wished things could be different.

That she really was Lia Hall.

That she didn’t have to leave tomorrow.

That Haydn was still holding her hand and kissing her, instead of avoiding her eyes and hiding out in the bathroom.

“Play something we can sing to,” Jules said. “I think we could use the distraction.” He’d been great all night—buffering Haydn’s offishness and making sure she still felt included. She wanted to talk to him about the IP suit, but not yet. She wasn’t ready to be shut out by all of the Forrester brothers.

She slid into playing “American Pie” by Don McLean. It was a song her dad had always loved. He’d taught her to play it on her guitar when she was only nine years old, and the two of them would sing it together often. Usually while her mom cleaning up after dinner or getting ready for bed. She hadn’t thought about that in years.

Jules’s low baritone voice started with the first line, and Bennett drifted over from the kitchen next, singing along as well, without a hint of self-consciousness. To Lia’s surprise, by the second verse, even Haydn had come out of the bathroom to sit on the ground by the fireplace—about as far away as he could get while still being in the room—and poke around with the knobs. But she heard his tenor voice join in with his brothers.

None of them were going to make it in Nashville anytime soon, but what they lacked in tone, they made up for in growing enthusiasm and lyrical knowledge. They knew every song she seamlessly transitioned into, from the Beatles to Taylor Swift to Bruno Mars.

When was the last time she’d sat around and played casually with a group? She hadn’t sung yet—her throat still felt tight from holding back emotion, but with every song, it loosened more. This was her happy place. How had she forgotten?

A get-together with friends used to always include her pulling out her guitar for sing-alongs. It had a way of bringing the group together, lowering barriers, relaxing everyone.

At some point, singing had become both extremely private while also being massively public. Private and singular, in that she only ever felt connected with music deeply when she was alone. When she was with Bo, it had always felt like work, not play. Before then, music had been about connection. Her soul engaging with the souls of everyone close to her, in the notes and lyrics and rhythm of the song.

Without thinking, her fingers did the trapeze walk over the strings into one of her own songs, the placement and notes as familiar as her own face, and she began to sing. It was time to stop being afraid. To stop holding back. To connect and let people into her life and trust again.

Bennett gasped, and she continued playing as she looked up to find his eyes wide, his hands flailing in front of him like he was trying to stop a train with the force of his will. His mouth moved like he might say something, but only an airy squeak came out.

Jules sang along without missing a beat, surprising her by knowing every single word to the song. And it wasn’t even one of her best hits, like “Unsteady in Love” was. It was one of the first songs she’d ever written, and it was still one of her favorites. Jules didn’t seem to care that only the two of them sang, while Bennett was maybe losing more oxygen than safe.

Jules definitely had layers beneath that serious, button-up-shirt façade.

Lia’s secret was officially not a secret anymore.

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