Page 57 of If This Was a Movie

“She set me up with my ex, who offered over and over to just pay to have it all done, and she has no idea why I wouldn’t just take him up on it instead of doing it myself. Now whenever anything doesn’t go according to plan, she turns it into some big ‘I told you so’ lesson.”

“That’s why you didn’t want to stay with her after the pipe burst.”

I nod, not wanting to add much. It’s been a long day, and I just spent the night laughing and talking with a family who doesn’t know me but showed me more support than my mother ever has.

I’m too tired to unpack all of that tonight.

Nate must see that in my face, because he leans over in the car and puts a hand to my cheek. He then gently pulls me forward as he presses a soft, barely there kiss to my lips before pulling away and resting his forehead on mine.

“Well, you’ve got the Donovans now,” he whispers like it’s all I’ll ever need in life.

I can’t help it. A small, soft smile hits my lips. “Yeah, I’ve got the Donovans.”

TWENTY-THREE

NATE

What are you up to?

I send the text after contemplating what exactly to say for at least ten minutes, like I’m fifteen and texting a girl for the first time instead of thirty-five and texting a woman I’ve fucked multiple times, made out with last night, and lives in the cottage behind my house.

Julianne Everett makes me feel like I’m a teenager again, and I never thought I’d mean that in a good way. But when she texts me back in less than a minute, my stomach flips with excitement, and I fight the urge to dissect exactly what it means that she texted me back so quickly.

Checking in on me?

As much as you’ll let me.

When she doesn’t respond immediately, I inevitably worry I toed past a line I should have stayed behind. I contemplate sending another reply telling her I’m just kidding or that I meantto say that to someone else or something just as juvenile, typing and deleting at least a dozen replies before she texts me back.

Sorry, I was walking, and I hate people who walk and text.

My chest eases, and I wonder if I’m too old for this, if the constant push and pull will be bad for my old man's heart.

I just did my last class of the day and cleaned up the center this morning. Setting up at my favorite coffee shop

My favorite coffee shop is three blocks from the studio. They make this coffee with vanilla and almond syrup…it’s amazing.

I remember her saying that the morning after we met, with a small smile on her lips and a dreamy look in her eyes. I also remember going out of my way multiple times that January and February, hoping I’d bump into her but never actually doing it until I decided it was a torture on its own and to let it go.

There are three coffee shops in Evergreen Park, something I always find interesting, considering it’s a town that’s barely two square miles. Two are relatively busy chain shops, not very Jules’s style, and because I checked multiple times, I know neither has the flavor combination she told me was her favorite.

In that moment, I make a decision. It might be the wrong one, and it might push her more than she’s ready, but considering I too am done with work for the day, I grab my jacket and keys and head downtown to her favorite coffee shop.

When I step into the doors of Evergreen Brew, I’m happy I made that impulsive decision, even if parking is a bit chaotic with the town lighting tonight, just like I’m happy I went into that bar that night instead of going home and moping once again about how I was single on New Year’s Eve.

Jules is sitting at a table, her laptop in front of her, wearing a slouchy light pink sweater with her gorgeous dark hair pulled up with a clip, her face concentrating on her computer screen. But when she looks up and sees me walking in, a smile takes over her expression as she closes her laptop.

“Nate! What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” I see it then—the brightness that comes to her face at that. God, nothing has changed since the very first night, and even she has to know it, even if she’s too scared to jump. “Are you busy this afternoon?” She shakes her head. “Want to help me out? I need to do some Christmas shopping for Sophie and my sisters, and unfortunately, I hate shopping.”

Without even asking how, she nods happily.

“I would love to. I feel like these scales are so unbalanced as they are.” She starts to stand, putting things into her bag, and I shake my head.

“You can finish what you were doing, I don’t mean to?—”

She laughs and shakes her head.

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