Chapters (89)
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ONE
- HENRY
- TWO
- EMMA
- THREE
- HENRY
- FOUR
- EMMA
- FIVE
- EMMA
- SIX
- SEVEN
- HENRY
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- HENRY
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- EMMA
- THIRTEEN
- HENRY
- FOURTEEN
- HENRY
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- EMMA
- SEVENTEEN
- HENRY
- EIGHTEEN
- HENRY
- NINETEEN
- HENRY
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- EMMA
- TWENTY-TWO
- EMMA
- TWENTY-THREE
- HENRY
- TWENTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- TWENTY-FIVE
- EMMA
- TWENTY-SIX
- EMMA
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- HENRY
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- EMMA
- TWENTY-NINE
- HENRY
- THIRTY
- HENRY
- THIRTY-ONE
- HENRY
- THIRTY-TWO
- EMMA
- THIRTY-THREE
- HENRY
- THIRTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- THIRTY-FIVE
- EMMA
- THIRTY-SIX
- HENRY
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- EMMA
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- HENRY
- THIRTY-NINE
- HENRY
- FORTY
- EMMA
- FORTY-ONE
- HENRY
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- EMMA
- FORTY-FOUR
- EMMA
- FORTY-FIVE
- HENRY
- EPILOGUE
- ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jack’s last relationship ended with his fiancée leaving him for his best friend right before their wedding. Needless to say, his faith in other people took a severe turn after the fiasco. Jo and I playfully push each other’s buttons regularly, but I would never want to take things too far or give Jack the wrong idea about us. I value his friendship too damn much to overstep a line.
“I know. I trust you guys.” His phone buzzes on the table. “I’m kicking you out. Right now. Or stay and get a show. I don’t care at this point.”
I laugh heartily, already feeling more at ease. “You win. Go bang your awesome girlfriend and I’ll go home to my empty apartment and mull over my pathetic, dull life, not having any sex because I can’t get the woman I think I want to be with but I’m not sure if she wants to be with me out of my damn head.”
“Never say never. Maybe you’ll be surprised.”
“Thanks, man. This helped a lot. I’ll let you know how things turn out. Wish me luck.”
NINETEEN
HENRY
Sleep was the last thing on my mind last night. I tried counting sheep. Listening to a meditation podcast. Attempting breathing techniques. Turning the air conditioning down in my apartment to cool off the energy causing me to stare at the ceiling, unable to find a comfortable position while my mind raced a million miles an hour.
I’m meeting with Emma this morning, and to say I’m freaking out is putting the panic mildly. I’m on the verge of a heart attack, torn on whether to be afraid she won’t show up or optimistic she’s willing to give this a shot.
Are we supposed to pick up our plan like we didn’t have an earth-shattering discovery? Start fresh? Act like best friends? Act like colleagues? Act like… boyfriend and girlfriend? Be boyfriend and girlfriend?
The worst part about this process is the goddamn feelings I possess for her haven’t changed.
Nope.
They’re still right there, persistent and mulish with every blonde woman I pass on the street. Every chime of my phone. Every hour I check the clock, wondering if it’s Sunday yet.
I pull open the door to Beans and Brews, the bells over the door chiming obnoxiously and announcing my presence. Offering a polite nod to the two giggling baristas behind the counter, I slide into a small table off to the side and check my phone to see if she texted me. The entry bell chimes again, and I whip my head around to see Emma walking through the door, a halo of sunshine following behind her.
The world stops spinning. It’s silent. Still. I’m not sure if I’m breathing. I can’t hear anything. I can’t see anything. I can’t process anything.