Page 42 of Someday Not Soon

Jude

Present

I’m a fucking idiot—buta happy fucking idiot.

After hours of being around her, saving the day as a team, and rediscovering everything I once knew about her, it feels like my heart is right back to square one, completely and ridiculously in love with her.

In a moment of weakness, I let my pinky finger brush hers, testing the waters. To my surprise, she let go of her hesitation and entwined her fingers with mine, grounding me in a way I thought I’d never experience again.

All I know is, I’m not going to be the first to let go. This right here only solidifies my resolve to fight like hell to earn her trust and win her back.

Eventually, she turns to face me, her hand still linked in mine. She hitches her free hand’s thumb over hershoulder, taking a step backward. “It’s really late. I should probably get going.”

“It’s almost two thirty in the morning. I don’t like the idea of you going back to that dark empty house by yourself. You could always crash here for the night.” Or forever.

Her hand goes stiff in mine before she gently pulls it away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have a guest room. It’s all yours. If you feel comfortable.” I can’t force her, but I sure as hell want to throw her over my shoulder and march her back into my house where I can personally make sure she’s safe.

She gives me a look, like she knows this is the worst decision we’ve ever made, yet she still wants to say yes.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” I add, as if it will seal the deal. We both know my culinary skills don’t go far beyond grilling meat.

With a resigned sigh, she turns around and heads toward my house instead. “Okay, fine. Thank you. Just promise me you won’t go out of your way because I’m here.”

“Deal,” I agree. Even though there is absolutely no way I would ever forget she’ll be right on the other side of the wall. Sleeping peacefully. Maybe even naked…fuck, I need to stop thinking about it.

Walking back into the house, I lead her to the guest room and hand her a new toothbrush along with one of my navy T-shirts to use as pajamas. She sits on the edge of the queen-sized bed, looking so small against the vastness of the room.The sight tugs at something deep inside me, and all I want to do is scoop her up, hold her close, and spend the night with my nose buried in the curve of her neck—breathing her in, feeling the steady thump of her heart against my chest.

“You need anything else?” I ask, hoping she catches the unspoken question beneath it.

Our eyes lock. But instead of saying she needs something, instead of saying she needsme, she replies, “I think I’m all set. Thank you for letting me crash here.”

“Any time. I’m only in the next room if you do need anything.”

She stays silent, watching me with those mesmerizing hazel eyes. Grabbing the brass knob to close the door, I turn back and say, “Sweet dreams, El.”

Not even waiting to hear her reply back, I lock myself in my room, before I change my mind and do anything stupid. Like walk right back in there and grab her face and kiss her like I’ve been wanting to everyday for a solid decade. But some things are better left unspoken. At least for tonight.

It’s the day of my sister’s wedding, and her best friend is asleep down the hall. My body protests, desperate for more sleep, but I roll out of bed to get started. There’s no rest when you’re pulling double duty as a caterer.

Ella is still fast asleep, and I hesitate at her door, debating whether to wake her. I want to let her sleep,knowing how busy today will be, but I also know she’s on a tight schedule.

I knock softly, waiting for any sign of movement, but only silence follows. I knock again, a little louder this time, and yet again—no response. Cracking the door open, I find her curled up, clutching one of the giant down-filled pillows. I never thought I’d be jealous of a pillow, but here we are.

“Ella,” I whisper.

When she doesn’t move, I step quietly into the room and crouch down beside the bed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest tells me she’s alive and breathing, just exhausted.

I could watch her all damn day—the pout of her lips, the delicate slope of her nose, the two tiny golden earrings in each of her olive skin lobes.

Suddenly, her eyes pop open, and she gasps at the sight of me. I’m equally as startled, and I jerk back, smacking my head on the nightstand.

“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing the sore spot.

“You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing?” she mumbles, stretching her arms above her head.

“I was about to wake you. I swear I knocked first, and then I got worried.”

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