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)
“In fact, I did.” He smiles and looks so adorably proud. “I told my family group chat about everything and how it turned out to be you, and my sister, Hailey, gave up her dinner reservation with her girlfriend tonight so we could have it.”
“She did not.” He nods, and I take a deep, appreciative breath. “A queen amongst women, that one.”
“I’ll tell her you said so.”
“Please do, and also tell Hailey and her ladyfriend that I will fight to the death for them now, should they ever need it.”
His laugh rumbles in his chest, and I find I’m already addicted to the deep, joyful sound of it.
I’m also addicted to his crinkly-eyed smile, the way he listens so intently to my answer whenever he asks a question, and the way he answers my own questions with such thoughtful openness and sincerity. Jude proves to be—without question and perhaps unsurprisingly—the best first date of my life. Cindy’s Rooftop has arguably the most stunning views in Chicago, but we barely notice them as we talk about everything from our travel bucket list to the worst haircut we’ve ever had to foods we pretend to like but secretly don’t.
He admits that Jason once told him that thunder was the sound of God bowling, and he believed it “far too long for me to feel confident you won’t mock me if I tell you.”
I counter by admitting that I used to think if I ate a watermelon seed, I’d wake up pregnant with a watermelon.
We find that neither of us believes in love at first sight, but we do believe in love at first kiss. His green flags are having a hobby, enjoying the outdoors, and smart and funny people who love dogs (a win for me). Mine are people who love to try new restaurants, who never yuck anyone’s fandom yum, and being adventurous on vacation but also loving a good nap (he looks pleased at this). When I ask Jude what his exes would say about him if they all got together to dish, he said, “That I’m habitually running late, but I’m never late when it really matters.”
I nod appreciatively. “Not bad.”
“What about you?”
“Probably that I have the worst sense of direction but make the best pancakes.”
He smiles at me over the rim of his wineglass. “I can get on board with that.”
I push away my dessert plate, absolutely stuffed, and lean back in my seat. “Okay, here’s an important one: Where did you go to college? And for the record, there’s only one wrong answer.”
“Ohio State. What about you?”
My expression crashes. “No.”
His dark eyes wide with concern, Jude leans in, nostrils flaring. “Tell me you didn’t do your undergrad at Michigan!”
I drop my head onto my folded arms on the table, groaning. “You’re a Buckeye? How could I have missed this?”
Several moments of silence pass where it occurs to me that . . . maybe he’s not kidding. Big Ten people take this shit seriously. But then I remind myself: This is Jude. He remembers things his nieces say over dinner and takes calls from them even when they interrupt what might be a great conversation with a neighbor he ostensibly has a thing for. He argues with flat-earthers, for Christ’s sake. He’s not going to bail on this date because of a college football rivalry.
Finally, I feel his hand curl around my bare forearm. It’s so warm, his grip is so strong. “Listen.” His voice carries a note of delightful mirth, and my blood flushes hot. “I truly believe we can get past this.”
Shaking my head, I fake-sob. “We can’t.”
“Look at me.” Jude’s voice is dramatically urgent, and I stifle a laugh. “Look at me.”
With feigned reluctance, I lift my head.
“Veronica,” he says with deep, playful sincerity, “everything else is perfect. Even if you are a Wolverine, and I’m a Buckeye, we can coexist in harmony.”
“I want to believe you.” After a beat, I nod once, resolute. “Let us never speak of it again.”
He clucks his tongue regretfully. “Unless it’s a Saturday in the fall and the Game is on.”
“We could just stay in our own homes and not interact, not discuss, not taunt?”
Jude winces. “What if we live together?”
My heart does that lurching thing again. “Date one and we’re talking about cohabitating?”
He shrugs. “If you suggested picking out china patterns tonight, I wouldn’t protest.”
Laughing, I shake my head at him, whispering giddily, “We can’t be there yet, Jude. We haven’t even kissed. Didn’t we agree on love at first kiss? What if it’s awful and the chemistry just evaporates, and we realize all this time the stars were just spelling out ‘Be serious, you’re terrible for each other’?”
“That’s a pretty complicated constellation.” With a smile, he crooks his finger at me, beckoning. I lean forward, and he meets me halfway across the small table.