Page 75 of If This Was a Movie

“Nate, it?—”

“It’s not too much. Nothing is too much for you, Jules. You deserve the world. You deserve your life to be the most romantic, cinematic masterpiece that was ever created, and I’m making it my mission to help you see that.”

“Nate,” I start, but he shakes his head,

“You deserve magic,” he says low.

“Magic?”

“You said you’ll make Christmas magic for Sophie, but not for you. So I’m making it for you because that’s what you deserve, Jules. The fantasy of your favorite movies but in your real life. Every day. The second you give me the go-ahead, dollface, I’ll make every day a movie for you. Until then, I’m taking you on this date. “ Then he presses his lips to mine, silencing me before he grabs my hand and tugs me into the coffee shop.

As always, the coffee is spectacular, but we get it to go with a not-so-hidden wink from my favorite barista before we wander mainstream to check out the storefronts.

I’ve passed them a dozen times since Thanksgiving, but I haven’t had a chance to meander and check out all of the cute, intricate details the shops always make sure to include. After perusing all the shops, we decided that the flower shop, Evergreen Grows, has the best display.

“They’re so pretty!” I say, gawking over the blooms and leaves, both real and artificial, mixed with fake snow and painted cardboard to make the most magical storefront. “Look! Those peonies are gorgeous, even if they’re fake. They’re my favorite,” I say with a smile.

When he’s quiet, I look over to see he’s taking his phone out and opening a screen, looking like he has a mission.

“What are you doing?” I ask with a smile, watching him diligently tap on his phone with determination. “Is everything okay?” Maybe he got a text about Sophie or?—

“Just making a note,” he says.

“What?”

“A note. I don’t want to forget what kind of flowers you like.”

“You don’t…” I start, confused. He turns his phone to face me, and I see my name on the top of a notes app. My hand reaches out to grab it. “What is that?” He tries to pull it away, but I’ve already got it, pulling it from his reach and looking at the list.

Jules Likesis the title of the note, and below are various items.

Coffee: milk, one pump vanilla, one pump almond.

Snack: snowcaps with popcorn

Movie: romantic comedies

Christmas movie: Love Actually or Serendipity

Color: Pink or purple

It continues, a dozen or so minute things I’ve probably mentioned in passing, ending in Flowers: peonies.

“When did you start this?” I ask, but I’m already tapping at the top to see the creation date when my hand stills, my breath caught in my lungs.

January 1 of this year.

The morning after we met.

That’s why coffee is the first one: I mentioned it first thing that morning. His hand gently reaches out, grabbing his phone from my still hands. My eyes move to him, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything important.”

“How I take my coffee isn’t important, Nate,” I tell him, but my voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. Instead, it’s breathier and shocked.

“It is to me. Everything about you is important to me, Jules.” He keeps staring at me, and I wonder if he knows how much he’s impacting me, how he’s changing me and making me shift how I view things and how I believe I should be treated and valued.

“Come on. Let’s go get lunch.”

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