19. Brooke

NINETEEN

brOOKE

T he date was going great. Holland turned out to be tall, not seven feet, though over six, with a nice smile and touchable hair. He lived about thirty minutes away but said he didn't mind the drive. Not when "you show up in that dress."

The one I'd worn to my sister's shower. The one in my profile pic. He'd told me I was even prettier in person.

He was handsome, if not a little unmemorable, and our conversation flowed easily from one topic to the next. He seemed interested in my farm, asking about crop rotation and growing seasons, but he did throw me off with that one question about how much I made.

Right as our entrées arrived—steak for him, salmon for me—I felt my phone vibrate in my purse. I ignored it, listening to Holland describe his job in insurance, which sounded really boring, but he was into it, so I nodded along when he talked about the company picnic.

I'd briefly wondered what his day-to-day was like if he found excitement from a company picnic. Then I reminded myself that he seemed perfectly nice, and nice guys were often already married. Or were on a mission to find a fuck buddy.

When my phone buzzed again a few minutes later, I set down my glass of white wine to check it. There were two texts.

Jude

Where've you been the last few days? MIA.

Jude

What time should I pick you up?

Pick me up? For what? We hadn't really spoken this week, not since the incredibly awkward encounter at the farmers market when his date Emma had showed up. I texted him back.

What are you talking about?

He responded immediately.

Jude

The wedding.

I choked on my sip of wine, and Holland's eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

Coughing a few times, I held my index finger up then pointed to the bathroom, indicating I'd only be a minute. I hightailed it to the restroom and called Jude. "There you are," he said when he answered. "Where've you been? You didn't reply to any of my messages."

I tried not to sound immature when I told him, "Yeah, well, I've been busy."

"Too busy to text me back?"

He didn't believe me. We were well aware of each other's schedules, and he knew it was a lie. No matter how long my midsummer days were, I would never not text him back .

"What's wrong?" he asked after a while, and I faced the mirror, frowning as I lied again.

"Nothing."

He huffed. "Well, what's going on? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, so how about we stop pretending and you tell me what's wrong."

"I'm on a date, Jude!"

He made a rough sound I couldn't interpret. "Sorry. It's just that you weren't talking to me, and I know we're getting down to the wire, and I wanted to get a time so I could let my parents know when to expect the kids."

I curled my hand around the edge of the sink, the porcelain cold under my clammy palm. "You really want to go?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

I stared at my reflection, at my furrowed brow and pinched mouth. "I…I figured you wouldn't want to with Emma, and we?—"

"Emma? What does she have to do with anything?"

I twisted away from the mirror, unable to look myself in the eyes anymore. "It seemed like you two were?—"

"We're nothing. I went to lunch with her, so I could tell her I wasn't interested."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocked. "That why you're on a date right now?"

"Technically, I'm in the bathroom talking to you right now."

"Sorry not sorry."

I sniffed a laugh, covering my smile with my hand even though no one was here to witness my giddiness.

"Take me to the wedding," he said. "Can I please go to the wedding with you?"

"Yes. Of course. I don't want anyone else there with me. "

"I don't want you there with anyone else either," he said gruffly, as if he didn't want to admit it.

"Pick me up at three on Saturday," I told him, and he agreed with a hum.

When I didn't say anything else, he asked, "How's the date going?"

I spun back around toward the mirror, a huge, goofy grin plastered across my face, wondering if he could hear it in my one-word answer. "Good."

"What's his name?"

"Holland."

"Like the country?"

"I don't think anyone calls it that anymore," I said, still smiling like an idiot.

"All right. You have fun with the Netherlands or whatever. I've got to pick Seb up from his friend's house."

"Okay."

"Text me when you get home. I want to hear how terrible the date was."

"That's not very kind of you," I teased because I supposed all our pretenses were gone.

"I've come to realize I don't want to be gracious when it comes to your time and attention."

I bit into my cheek. Honestly, I feared my cheeks would crack. "But it would be rude of me not to give him my time and attention right now."

"Arguable, but fine. Text me later."

"I will."

I hung up and took a deep breath, composing myself before heading back out to Holland. I was giddy after that phone call, not because I knew what was happening between Jude and me, but that something was happening. He was still my friend—the same guy who would do anything if I asked—but he was also a guy I had feelings for. Big feelings.

When I returned to the table, Holland gave me a questioning look over the rim of his wineglass. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." I slid back into my seat. "I had to sort out some plans for my sister's wedding this weekend."

We'd discussed our families earlier, and I'd made him aware of Sabrina's big day, but the way he smiled at me made me think he was more than politely interested. Like, maybe, he thought I'd invite him.

He proved my instincts correct when he asked, "Are you bringing a date?"

I refused to break eye contact. Better to get it over with. "A friend, yes."

"Great." He nodded absently a few times, his features going blank as if he needed time to compute. He blinked. "So, I was about to ask if you wanted to order another round of drinks? Or maybe dessert to share?"

"I don't think so."

He nodded again, this time understanding, and signaled for our server. When the check arrived, I offered to pay for my meal, but Holland refused. He walked me to my car, his hands in his pockets.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," I said, hoping to mitigate some of the awkward tension.

"Yeah, you too. I hope everything works out with your friend."

"Oh, it's…" I stopped myself. Because, yes, it was exactly like that, but I didn't know how he knew.

"You looked different when you came back," he explained. "That kind of glow people get when they're in love." He reached out, gently squeezing my elbow with a quiet goodbye, leaving me completely breathless.

Is that what I was? In love?

I'd thought I'd loved Tom, but what I felt for Jude was different. I'd skipped over the butterflies, the will he/won't he angst, already so steady and secure in our relationship. We were friends first, and I guess I'd loved him all along, but only began thinking of him in a different light these past few weeks.

As I drove home, my mind kept drifting back to how Jude had sounded almost…territorial? Possessive? The idea sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the air vents aimed directly at me.

Still, I couldn't get ahead of myself. Jude and I would have a lot to talk about, though the realization that we would have those conversations settled me. His friendship was the most important relationship in my life, and whatever came from this, we had to keep that sacred. But I knew him—I knew my best friend—and he didn't make any rash decisions, especially when it affected his family. I also wanted to respect the kids and give them whatever they needed, first and foremost. Figuring out our future would be slow and probably not easy, but it would definitely be worth it.

Parked in front of my condo, I headed right upstairs to kick off my shoes and flop onto my bed like a teenager about to text her first crush. Dorothy curled up next to me, and I petted her with one hand while I typed with the other.

Home.

Jude

That was fast.

You kinda ruined the mojo.

Jude

Oops.

Yes. I can practically hear the apology dripping from that message.

Jude

Then you must be high or something.

Smoking might have made the date a little more fun.

Jude

Damn, honeybee. Harsh.

I sent him a shrug emoji then stood to change into my pajamas. By the time I checked my phone again, I found multiple texts.

Jude

I want to get your opinion on something.

Jude

Seb wants to try out for this traveling baseball team. They play through the fall, but then I guess there's another one that plays in the spring too.

Jude

He loves baseball and I love that for him, but I really don't know if:

Jude

1. He's ready for that commitment and 2. If he's good enough to make the team. He's finally found something he loves, and I would hate for him to be crushed.

Okay. What are you thinking?

Jude

That maybe I should come up with an excuse for him not to try out.

I get that protective instinct, but I think you have to let him try.

Jude

I knooooow

Jude

But I was really hoping you'd agree with me.

Jude

I feel like I'm losing him.

Babe.

You're not losing him.

You'll never lose him. Or Amelia.

You've all been through some really traumatic and terrible stuff, and as much as they needed you, I think you also needed them. You've held them really close, which is totally understandable, but you have to let them fly. They have to try out for baseball teams and not make them. Or make them and learn it's hard to keep commitments.

My eyes stung as I typed, my heart expanding with the realization of how much I felt for Jude and his children. And I was so grateful for Jude's trust, honored that he would allow me to be his sounding board and support system.

You and Mira made these two beautiful children. They're smart and kind, and you've raised them so well, when other people might've faltered in your same position. You're a great dad. The BEST dad. I am so proud of you.

They'll fail and stumble and mess up, but they'll be fine because of you. Because you showed them how to pick themselves up and keep going even when life sucks.

It was a while before he responded.

Jude

Thank you.

Jude

I guess I feel like it's only been the three of us for so long, these little changes with the kids feel huge.

Jude

I just needed to talk it out.

Happy to be your ear.

When he didn't immediately text back, I moved into the bathroom to remove my makeup and brush my teeth. After I finished moisturizing, I grabbed my phone before taking a seat on the couch to watch TV and smiled at the message.

Jude

You called me babe.

I did.

Jude

I liked it.

Me too.

Jude

I've got to get the kids ready for bed. What are you doing for the rest of the night?

I don't know. Maybe Emily in Paris.

Jude

Don't you dare start the new season without me.

Uuuggghhhhh. Fine.

I'll watch Derry Girls.

Jude

I'll allow it since we finished that one.

Thank you for the permission, sir.

Jude

Sir. Ooh. I like that one. Might have to add it to our list.

I laughed and sent him a checkmark emoji.

Did our dating pact just become a sex pact?

Jude

Bet your sweet ass it did.