Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 86(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 86(@200wpm)___ 69(@250wpm)___ 57(@300wpm)
“You look beautiful” is the first thing he says to me.
The second is “Callie is my niece.”
And third, he says, “When I said I was in a relationship, I was being hopeful.” He smiles at me. “I was talking about you.”
Chapter Twelve
Jude
First things first: We both need a shower.
(Not together, of course—though Veronica is so staggeringly gorgeous even in her current state that I wouldn’t object if she offered.)
And after that, we need to figure out where we’re going tonight. It being Valentine’s Day means a place like Alinea is out of the question, as most great restaurants have been booked out for weeks, but truthfully, we could sit in her living room for the rest of the night talking, and it would be perfect.
Still, I want to take her out. This entire situation feels unreal to me; the woman I’ve been romantically pursuing over email is the same beautiful neighbor I’ve been wanting to ask out for months. I want to mark this incredible coincidence, to celebrate the serendipity of it, to wipe clean the misunderstanding she marinated in all week. We need to mark this with something more than takeout and couch time.
That said, it’s still midday, and I wouldn’t mind hanging out here for a bit more catching up in person, but Veronica shoos me out, telling me to give her an hour and she’ll meet me in the lobby. I want to kiss her before I leave. It feels like I should, like we need to punctuate the end of this absurd moment with something sweet and acknowledging—but she closes the door with that wide smile and a wave.
Dizzy, I turn to the stairs, jogging back to my place, feeling as though my pulse has been transformed into a skipping record.
Chapter Thirteen
Veronica
I’m actually glad I don’t have much time to agonize over what to wear—and it would be useless anyway, given that Jude has seen me in pajamas in the lobby, sweaty exercise gear after I’ve gone to the gym, and just now in my Couch-Nomad-in-Residence getup.
I choose a pair of black cigarette pants, some cute heels, and a green silk blouse that brings out the color in my eyes. Blow-dry the hair, give a few quick swipes of some blush and mascara, a pop of lip color, and I’m ready.
He’s already downstairs waiting when I step into the lobby, and at the sight of him in pressed black trousers and a gray button-down shirt, his hair a damp mass of curls over his forehead, his eyes crinkled in that addictive smile . . . it takes me a second to be able to catch my breath.
“Wow,” he says, walking toward me and meeting me halfway to the elevator. “You look . . . incredible.”
“So do you.” I reach up, unable to resist touching his curls. They’re so unbelievably soft. “God, I’ve wanted to do that forever.”
“Forever?” he asks with a smile, his gaze searching mine.
I shrug. “Well, ever since you moved in here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, man, you’ve got good hair.”
“Thank you.” Jude tilts his head, considering me. “Me too, actually.”
“You’ve wanted to touch your hair?”
He laughs. “I’ve wanted to touch you. Hair, neck, hands, whatever.”
I feel the way the blush crawls up my neck and into my cheeks, and Jude bends at the waist, coming in for a closer look.
“Veronica, are you a blusher? I would never have guessed this.”
Pressing a hand to my cheek, I admit, “I might be.”
“Smart, funny, hot, and adorable.” He shakes his head, murmuring a soft, “Fuck me.”
I roll my lips between my teeth, biting back the urge to say, Tell me when.
“I have to admit,” he says, taking my hand and leading us toward the exit, “once I got back to my apartment, I worried you’d decide all of this was too absurd and opt to stay in with the chocolate ice cream tonight instead of letting me take you out to dinner. You looked pretty settled in for the duration.”
I pretend to look offended. “One, I knew I should have kept you blindfolded! The only way you knew about the ice cream was because of the stain on my shirt. And two, I did consider just staying in with Mr. Darcy and Häagen-Dazs, but then I figured . . . free dinner.”
Jude laughs. “I’m like Postmates, but with better hair.”
“Please. Postmates never tries this hard to win me over.”
“My competition for your affection is a food delivery app.” Jude holds open the lobby doors and follows me out into the frigid February chill.
“There’s no competition, sir. Postmates also never holds the door open.”
He smiles at this and steps to the curb, hailing a cab. “I have a car in the garage but figure it might be nice to share some wine tonight.”
“I heartily concur.”
We climb in, and when Jude gives the driver an address, I look over at him, frowning. “There’s no way,” I say. “That’s Cindy’s Rooftop. There is absolutely no way you got us in for tonight.”