Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Author's Note
- · PLAYLIST ·
- · ONE ·
- · TWO ·
- · THREE ·
- · FOUR ·
- · FIVE ·
- · SIX ·
- · SEVEN ·
- · EIGHT ·
- · NINE ·
- · TEN ·
- · ELEVEN ·
- · TWELVE ·
- · THIRTEEN ·
- · FOURTEEN ·
- · FIFTEEN ·
- · SIXTEEN ·
- · SEVENTEEN ·
- · EIGHTEEN ·
- · NINETEEN ·
- · TWENTY ·
- · TWENTY-ONE ·
- · TWENTY-TWO ·
- · TWENTY-THREE ·
- · TWENTY-FOUR ·
- · TWENTY-FIVE ·
- · TWENTY-SIX ·
- · TWENTY-SEVEN ·
- · TWENTY-EIGHT ·
- · TWENTY-NINE ·
- · THIRTY ·
- · THIRTY-ONE ·
- · THIRTY-TWO ·
- · THIRTY-THREE ·
- · THIRTY-FOUR ·
- · THIRTY-FIVE ·
- · THIRTY-SIX ·
- · THIRTY-SEVEN ·
- · ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ·
- · DISCUSSION QUESTIONS ·
- Kate
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Oh, he’s hot.” Toni stares at Jamie’s LinkedIn profile picture. And smiles. Broadly.
“Stop it.”
“I can’t.” He smiles wider. “He’s so cute. He’s giving me straight-laced, starchy bachelor meets eyeglasses-model vibe. And I’m definitely getting a total-gentleman-in-the-streets, freak-in-the-sheets energy.”
“What?”
“You know, he’s all manners and politeness in public, but the moment that door closes, he throws you over his mahogany desk, flips up your skirt, and spanks your ass.”
“Antoni Dabrowski.” I scissor my thighs and flush from head to toe. “Behave yourself.”
Toni takes the phone from me, zooming in on Jamie’s photo. “Ugh. So adorable. He’s totally uptight and wrinkle-free. But he also clearly hits the gym. Just look at those shoulders inside his dress shirt. Bonus point, glasses means he reads.”
“Glasses do not mean he reads. They mean he has less than 20/20 vision. His wildly impressive vocabulary means he reads.”
“Whatever. You get my point.”
I steal my phone back, pocket it, then grab another cookie. “I do. He’s bookish-looking and hiding a rocking bod in the wrinkle-free dad slacks.”
“So.” Toni wiggles his eyebrows. “You said you’re dating? Does that mean going on more dates and feeling things out? Exclusively dating?”
I take my time chewing another cookie, then swallow. “Definitely exclusive,” I tell him, tasting the lie on my tongue along with that last buttery lemon bite.
“Well, I can’t wait to meet him! I have a feeling he’s going to be a keeper.”
A wave of unease crests inside me. I force a smile and pop another cookie in my mouth. “Me, too.”
· TWELVE ·
Jamie
I’m not a violent man, but after what he’s done, if I saw my roommate today, I’d be tempted to throat punch him. Thankfully, avoiding Jean-Claude is easy. He practically lives at Juliet and Bea’s place, so I return home and spend the remainder of the day at the apartment, well into the evening, catching up on continuing medical education, burning through a few seminars and a lengthy article, until the laptop screen gets blurry and my stomach starts to growl. That’s when I realize I haven’t eaten since my scone and tea this morning, and there’s nothing in the refrigerator.
This isn’t my typical time at the store, but then again, nothing has been typical today. Not since this morning, when it was Bea who showed up at the bench across from Boulangerie.
I pause halfway down the grocery aisle, my hand hovering where my phone burns a hole in my trouser pocket. Anxious thoughts crowd my brain. Was I cold when we left? Should I have sent her a message since we parted ways? Why am I horrible at all this? And why is a ten-hours-old fake relationship already on track to be more of a headache than the last real relationship I was in?