Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Jude

Present

I’m a fucking idiot—but a happy fucking idiot.

After hours of being around her, saving the day as a team, and rediscovering everything I once knew about her, it feels like my heart is right back to square one, completely and ridiculously in love with her.

In a moment of weakness, I let my pinky finger brush hers, testing the waters. To my surprise, she let go of her hesitation and entwined her fingers with mine, grounding me in a way I thought I’d never experience again.

All I know is, I’m not going to be the first to let go. This right here only solidifies my resolve to fight like hell to earn her trust and win her back.

Eventually, she turns to face me, her hand still linked in mine. She hitches her free hand’s thumb over her shoulder, taking a step backward. “It’s really late. I should probably get going.”

“It’s almost two thirty in the morning. I don’t like the idea of you going back to that dark empty house by yourself. You could always crash here for the night.” Or forever.

Her hand goes stiff in mine before she gently pulls it away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have a guest room. It’s all yours. If you feel comfortable.” I can’t force her, but I sure as hell want to throw her over my shoulder and march her back into my house where I can personally make sure she’s safe.

She gives me a look, like she knows this is the worst decision we’ve ever made, yet she still wants to say yes.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” I add, as if it will seal the deal. We both know my culinary skills don’t go far beyond grilling meat.

With a resigned sigh, she turns around and heads toward my house instead. “Okay, fine. Thank you. Just promise me you won’t go out of your way because I’m here.”

“Deal,” I agree. Even though there is absolutely no way I would ever forget she’ll be right on the other side of the wall. Sleeping peacefully. Maybe even naked…fuck, I need to stop thinking about it.

Walking back into the house, I lead her to the guest room and hand her a new toothbrush along with one of my navy T-shirts to use as pajamas. She sits on the edge of the queen-sized bed, looking so small against the vastness of the room. The sight tugs at something deep inside me, and all I want to do is scoop her up, hold her close, and spend the night with my nose buried in the curve of her neck—breathing her in, feeling the steady thump of her heart against my chest.

“You need anything else?” I ask, hoping she catches the unspoken question beneath it.

Our eyes lock. But instead of saying she needs something, instead of saying she needs me , she replies, “I think I’m all set. Thank you for letting me crash here.”

“Any time. I’m only in the next room if you do need anything.”

She stays silent, watching me with those mesmerizing hazel eyes. Grabbing the brass knob to close the door, I turn back and say, “Sweet dreams, El.”

Not even waiting to hear her reply back, I lock myself in my room, before I change my mind and do anything stupid. Like walk right back in there and grab her face and kiss her like I’ve been wanting to everyday for a solid decade. But some things are better left unspoken. At least for tonight.

It’s the day of my sister’s wedding, and her best friend is asleep down the hall. My body protests, desperate for more sleep, but I roll out of bed to get started. There’s no rest when you’re pulling double duty as a caterer.

Ella is still fast asleep, and I hesitate at her door, debating whether to wake her. I want to let her sleep, knowing how busy today will be, but I also know she’s on a tight schedule.

I knock softly, waiting for any sign of movement, but only silence follows. I knock again, a little louder this time, and yet again—no response. Cracking the door open, I find her curled up, clutching one of the giant down-filled pillows. I never thought I’d be jealous of a pillow, but here we are.

“Ella,” I whisper.

When she doesn’t move, I step quietly into the room and crouch down beside the bed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest tells me she’s alive and breathing, just exhausted.

I could watch her all damn day—the pout of her lips, the delicate slope of her nose, the two tiny golden earrings in each of her olive skin lobes.

Suddenly, her eyes pop open, and she gasps at the sight of me. I’m equally as startled, and I jerk back, smacking my head on the nightstand.

“Shit,” I mutter, rubbing the sore spot.

“You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing?” she mumbles, stretching her arms above her head.

“I was about to wake you. I swear I knocked first, and then I got worried.”

She watches me with amused eyes. “Well, next time you decide you want to stare at me, give me a heads up. That way I can look a little more angelic, and a little less like I do now.”

Right as I’m about to tell her she’s easily the most gorgeous woman, she glances at the digital clock on the nightstand, and bolts upright. “I have to go. Like now. I still need to go back to my parents’ house to pick up my dress before heading to the venue. And shit…the food.”

“I talked to Sherie this morning. She said she was able to move a few things around. She’s going to deliver the food and find a crew to serve it before the start of the wedding.”

“Oh, thank fuck. I don’t know what we would’ve done without her.”

“Let me drive you to your house. Then we can ride to the venue together?” It’s not because I have any selfish intentions. Definitely not because I want to be seen arriving together or because I’m greedy for every extra minute I can spend with her.

Eyeing me as she weighs the possibilities, she stands up. “Okay, sure. Let’s do it.” The hem of my shirt skims her upper thighs, barely covering her ass. It takes every iota of willpower to not let my eyes stay glued to her bare skin.

As we head out the door together, I’m well aware that this whole friend thing is becoming harder with every passing hour. As I follow her, I feel like a dead man walking, knowing I’m inching closer to a line I shouldn’t cross.

Wedding chaos unfolds around us. A dozen-person crew hustles to set up golden Chiavari chairs and wooden lantern centerpieces. Florists weave chrysanthemums and dahlias into every corner, adding bursts of color in every direction. The air hums with a blend of excitement and anticipation as everyone gets ready for the big day.

Since it’s tradition for the bride and groom to avoid seeing each other until the ceremony, the men huddle in one big suite to get ready, while the women have the run of the rest of the house. Madi and Noah are disgustingly obsessed with each other, unable to be apart for more than two seconds. They’ve resorted to shouting through the large wooden doors, proclaiming their love and how much they can’t wait to see each other. It would almost be cute if it weren’t a glaring reminder that I’m depressingly single, with only one person in the world I’d ever settle for. And she’s right down the hall, getting her hair and makeup done, probably trying to forget I exist.

As if she could sense my thoughts, a text from her lights up my phone.

Ella

Hey, do you happen to know if Sherie and the food showed up?

Jude

Yep. They did. Thank god that fiasco is officially over.

Ella

I’m not sure if I ever said it, but thank you for all of your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Jude

I’m glad you called me. And for as stressful as it was, it was still kind of fun.

Ella

You have a strange definition of fun. It did feel like we were on some twisted sort of cooking show though.

Jude

Hey, can you come see me when you’re done getting ready?

Ella

Of course. Is everything okay?

Jude

Everything is good. It’s nothing urgent.

Ella

You’re making me nervous.

Jude

Don’t be nervous.

An hour later, the door to the mens’ suite creaks open. She steps through, looking like an absolute dream in a eucalyptus green dress. The bodice hugs her bust and waist, while the high slit in the a-line skirt reveals her smooth, toned legs. Her classic long, dark waves are artfully twisted into an updo, with a delicate braid woven through.

If I could describe my dream woman, it would be her, every single time.

The room falls silent. I can tell she feels the shift with all eyes in her direction. My legs feel like two sandbags as I stand frozen, completely captivated by how unbelievably gorgeous she looks.

It’s not our wedding day, but seeing her like this, it feels like it could be. This is how I imagine every groom is supposed to feel about their bride.

Noah nudges me, coughing into his elbow to play it cool. “Go get your girl, man.”

My legs move on their own accord, carrying me straight to her. As I get closer, she looks up, nervous but with a hint of something else in her eyes.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, glancing around at everyone staring at us. “Why’d you want to see me?”

“Everything is fine. I just wanted to see how fucking gorgeous you look all dressed up like this. Then again, you’re always gorgeous.”

Her lips fall apart, surprised by my answer. You’d think by now she’d know I’m a love sick idiot around her, but it still seems to shock her.

“Well, thanks.” Whispering, she adds, “I feel awkward.”

My hand gently cradles her jaw. “Don’t. You’re perfect.”

I hear her breath hitch as I look into her eyes, feeling completely at home. She stares right back, perhaps beginning to realize this isn’t a game to me.

This thing between us is real.

The only difference now is I’m finally ready to fight for it.