Page 44 of If This Was a Movie

“What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“What happened to the Jules who was searching high and low for her movie-worthy romance? Looking for signs and messages everywhere she looked?”

I roll my lips into my mouth and bite, trying to fight the gasp. How much about me does he actually remember? And why?

And what does it mean when my heart skips a beat each time he does?

“She got a reality check,” I say finally.

“Me? Was I the reality check?”

I blink and sigh. I should avoid the question to the best of my ability, but for whatever reason, I don’t.

“Yes. No? I don’t know. It was eye-opening to see how deep I was in my delusion, reading into things and finding signs everywhere. It was a wake-up call that I really needed. I was living with my head in the clouds, and I hurt myself doing it. Now, I’m only focused on myself, my friends, and my business. I…I don’t have time for anything else.” I mostly lie because my business is closing up for the rest of the year, and my friends are all off with their significant others.

The truth of the matter is the last year has been the loneliest I’ve ever felt.

“And me and Sophie,” he adds.

“What?”

“You’re focused on me and Sophie, too. Watching Sophie and helping me out with her Christmas wish.” My jaw goes tight because he’s got me there, of course. Diversion seems to be the only way to go, so I take a page from Ava’s book and turn my sass on.

“Well, you know, I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego, but I’m really only in this because your daughter is super cool. You’re just…a boy who happens to be there.”

He lets out a small laugh and shakes his head before stepping closer to me, closing the gap. We aren’t touching, but with each breath, the bulky material of my jacket brushes his sweatshirt, and I feel it as if it were his skin on mine.

“Are you going to make a single moment of this easy on me?” The words should sound annoyed, but there’s a smile on his lips.

I shake my head. “Probably not. It’s not my specialty.” He stares at me for long moments, and I try to decode whatever he’s thinking before his smile widens further.

“Good.”

“Good?” He nods, then takes a step back. “Wouldn’t want to win you so easily.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, appalled but also trying to ignore the butterflies in my belly. Stupid, idiotic, gullible butterflies.

“It’ll be much sweeter, winning you over my way.”

“You are so not going to win me over, Nathan Donovan.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dollface.” I open my mouth to argue, to yell something to tell him what a pompous, presumptuous ass he is before he steps back and tips his head to the cottage. “Go inside, Jules. It’s cold out here.”

I stare at him and his smug smile and decide at that moment I will not let him win. No way in hell. Even if he gave me the best orgasms of my life, and I haven’t been able to think about much else other than the way he kissed me for an entire year.

I repeat that to myself over and over as he opens the cottage door, and I glare at him as I walk past him into the house.

But as soon as that door is closed and locked behind me, I can’t help but do a silly little excited dance because even if he could totally break my heart if I let him in, Nate Donovansolikes me.

EIGHTEEN

JULES

The next morning, I wake up to a text from Nate asking me over for coffee, and I know I can’t do it. I can’t be with him early in the morning before I’m awake enough to put my defenses up, not when he’s apparently adamant about trying to break through the wall I’m desperately trying to keep up between us.

I shouldn’t have stayed to watch a movie with him last night, even if he was sweet, saved me a plate for dinner, and subscribed to every streaming service under the sun because he knew I couldn’t bring all of my movies. I need to keep things professional and friendly and, most importantly, keep my heart out of it.

---