Page 142 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“Okay. But even more than Guilherme?”

“You know he’s already broken my heart once, right?”

“I also know he had his reasons, Bia.”

“He did. And I understood, forgave, and I know I’ll be with that annoying prince of mine until the end of time,” she sighs, lovestruck, leaning forward like she’s about to share a juicy secret.

“What I’m trying to say is—A.J. would never break your heart, even if it meant breaking his own. So hold onto him. I’ve loved Guilherme since I was fifteen, and we almost missed our chance by waiting too long to dive in. Don’t make the same mistake. Hold onto him, because from the way you’re smiling right now, it’s clear you two are worth it,” Beatriz says, her eyes full of tenderness, and I let out a relieved breath.

You can never trust anyone completely. But knowing your girls are behind you in your relationship, it’s half the battle, enough to calm the worst of the fear.

Still, part of me knows that maybe the problem isn’t him.

“I’m going to do something for A.J. and, depending on how it all plays out, I might regret it,” I say, and the look Beatriz gives me says it all: Don’t do it. “But if I don’t, I’ll regret it even more.”

“You know that ‘doing what’s best for me’ without asking how I felt was exactly what made Guilherme break my heart, right?” she says gently.

I nod, swallowing hard.

“But it comforts me to know that this isn’t about us. It’s about him. So I hope you’re right. And even if A.J. hates me for a few hours, I hope he can like me enough to stay.”

I shrug and turn back to the vanity, reaching for my lipstick.

“I think… in your case, it’s like the song he sings. If it all falls apart, you’ll need to love him even more when he deserves it the least.”

Love.

It’s been a month since I first kissed A.J. and ten days since I admitted to myself that I like this beautiful mess we’ve become. I hope we can keep holding on with just a little less than love.

“And how’s your mom doing back in Brazil for her first Christmas without you?” I switch the subject, my heart racing, I need to stop thinking about this for a minute.

“She’s handling it better than I ever thought she would.”

The smile that spreads across her face is infectious, and after everything this girl has been through these past few years, it’s beautiful to hear her talk about how her mom’s adjusting to her season in the U.S.

I wipe off the excess makeup while she gushes about how much she’s loving the thrill of being back on tour, even if it doesn’t make her want to sing again, she understands us completely.

Daniele comes up to get us at eleven forty, and the three of us head down, giddy and anxious. Nobody wants to mess up the plans she’s prepared for tonight.

I go straight into A.J.’s arms. He’s leaning against the kitchen island. Bia’s curled up in Guilherme’s lap on one of the living room sofas, and Daniele stops beside Thomas, chattering on top of his quiet nods. But knowing these days without Richard have been hard on her, he pretends to be interested.

A few minutes later, Carlos pulls the turkey and the pork roast out of the oven. He and Sol start carving together, so in sync and so sweet that I lean in and kiss A.J. on the cheek.

My Golden Boy’s eyes go dark when he gives me a wicked little look.

“I’m dragging you down to that basement later,” he whispers in my ear.

I shrug, teasing.

“Try your luck.”

“I really am, Babe.” He says and that nickname is going to be the death of me.

“We’re not having sex on Jesus’ birthday, A.J. Limits!” I say firmly. At first, he thinks I’m joking, but then he sees I’m serious and nods as I feel his arms tighten around me, while Bia and Guilherme watch us and pour the wine for dinner.

“Everyone outside!” Daniele calls, and her dad is the first one to step out, champagne bottle in hand.

When the clock strikes midnight, the cold spray of champagne splatters everywhere.

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