Page 44 of The Love Rematch
Jake.
Her voice fills his head. He walks up, takes the puzzle piece from her hand, and kisses her on the cheek. She’s giving him a second chance.
The scene crashes as her real voice fills the room. “James.”
Another man moves.
Another man crosses the distance.
Another man pulls her close.
Jake is rooted to the spot. He’ll never be her perfect match. Not on TV. Not in real life. Those cards were dealt, and he folded. He’ll never be her hero.
But that doesn’t mean he has to stay her villain. Maybe a little closure would be better for both of them. An end to the animosity, to the tension, to whatever it is that still simmers between them. Maybe that’s the one part of the story he can change, if he tries.
CHAPTERELEVEN
emily
Atap,tap, tapon the window wakes Emily in the morning. The sound is soft but repetitive. After a few minutes, she loses the ability to tune it out.
What the hell is that?
She rolls over in bed and pulls the duvet over her ears to muffle the noise. Her room is still dark, which means it’s way too early to be awake. The pecking continues, almost like a beak on glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Did she do something to piss off a bird recently? Because this is a hell of a way to get revenge. Impressive, really, to catch her at her weakest moment.
“Go away,” she mumbles into her pillow.
The room quiets.
She sighs in relief. Then—
WHACK!
Emily bolts upright, her head whipping to the window. She almost expects to find a mutilated, feathery carcass stuck to the glass. Instead, there’s a yellow Post-it note that readsPull me.She squints, sure she must have read that incorrectly. The sun has barely risen over the horizon. It’s hardly light enough to see. She pads across the room for a better look, and finally notices the bit of string taped beneath the note.
Jake.
She has half a mind to crawl back to bed, but her curiosity won’t let her. Instead, she reaches beneath the open frame, grabs the line, and reels it in. A small package no bigger than her palm is wrapped in paper and string. She unties it. When a cheap flip phone falls into her lap, she gasps as if she’s discovered the Holy Grail. A hasty message is scrawled on the paper. Even if she didn’t recognize the handwriting, she’d know who it was from.
I prepaid five hours’ worth of calls to NY, and we leave the US in four days for our first stop abroad. It won’t work after that, so use it wisely. Consider this a peace offering from a stranger.
PS: Sorry for the early wake-up. I’ll have a PA bring you a latte later. Skim milk. One sugar. Two pumps of vanilla. Hopefully your coffee order hasn’t changed as much as your sleepwear. I might not recover.
Three seconds pass in stunned silence. A snort escapes as Emily rereads the last few lines one more time, unable to fight her grin. They read almost…flirtatious. Her stomach flutters and she shoves the note under her pillow defiantly. Then she grabs the phone, jumps to her feet, and practically launches herself into the bathroom. The shower seems like overkill, so she stuffs a towel under the door to seal the crack and settles onto the countertop while it rings. The call goes to voicemail three times before Sam finally picks up.
“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that. And I respect the hustle. But whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it. Stop calling me.”
“Wait, Sam!” Emily grips the phone tighter, wishing she could reach through the receiver and catch her sister before she hangs up. “It’s me!”
“…Em?”
“Yes!”
“Em!”
