My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(74)

He scoffs, huffing as he climbs endless stairs at the gym. “You came this close and you’re going to stop?” He sounds shocked—disappointed too. “Do you just stop writing before the climax?”

“No. Obviously.”

“So finish the job, Axel. Tell her. Stop running away. Just stop stopping,” he says, and I bristle.

“This isn’t law school,” I counter, but with each assessment he levels at me, another layer of my defenses slips away.

“I didn’t say it was,” he says, and he’s firm. He’s not bending. “All I’m saying is you’ve been crazy for her for a long time, and you’re this close and you just shut down.”

“How do you know I shut down?”

“Because I know you. Because you’ve conned yourself most of all—into thinking you need to shut her out to protect yourself.”

I swallow, feeling naked and embarrassed. Unable to counter him. I have no move to make because he’s right, once again. Maybe the long con of my wish on a fountain is that I’m my own mark. I grumble, then mutter, “It’s so irritating when you know exactly what I’ve done.”

He laughs, deep and satisfied. “Tell her how you feel. Just finish the story.”

I drag a hand through my hair, as if I can undo everything I’ve messed up. But I don’t have to undo it. Hazel’s already forgiven me. We’ve already moved on. We’ve already started over. But then I did what I’ve done before—I stopped.

She might be the one who left yesterday, but with my cold, dismissive goodbye, I’m the one who walked away.

I have to stop leaving. And I have to start walking toward her, no matter the risk. I can’t keep this wish secret any longer. “I’ll tell her I love her when I return to New York,” I say, and Carter slow-claps from across the ocean.

A throat clears behind me. I spin around.

Jackie is here. The blonde booklover smiles like she has a secret. “You could tell her sooner.”

Alecia and Maria are with her too. I end the call quickly, then ask, a little amazed, “How did you find me?”

Alecia rolls her eyes and points to the water dancing across the stone, then all the coins sparkling under it. “We thought you might be here. You’ve got a thing for fountains.” Then she smiles and says, “And for Hazel.”

Does everyone see through me? Maybe I haven’t conned anyone at all. Good. That’s good. That’s damn good.

“I do,” I admit. I’m over fighting my feelings. “I’m in love with her.”

Jackie squeals. “That’s soooo great.”

“You don’t care about what it might do to—”

Jackie shakes her head and pats the stone edge of the fountain. “Sit, and let’s come up with a plan.”

And that’s that. They’re not worried about a book. And honestly, I’m not either.

So I sit on the edge of a fountain, and I let them help me come up with a plan. It’s nice that I don’t have to plot alone.





40





THE HERO


Hazel

“There is no way we are ever going to share a thing in this flat. Not a meal, not a bed, not even a single moment together. Mark my words,” I say, reading from the opening chapter of The I Do Redo.

I don’t even have to look down at the page. I know these lines by heart.

But still, I shut the paperback dramatically and smile at the crowd from the front of the event room in the store. An Open Book is packed. It’s standing room only at the bookstore in the heart of Paris.

“I guess we’ll see if they share anything,” I say with a coy smile, then stage whisper, “Like a kiss.”

A few attendees laugh, then the bookstore manager opens the event to the audience. “Just go ahead and line up. My assistant manager will bring a mic and take your questions.”

Even though I wanted to stay in Copenhagen, I’m so glad I’m here. I’m grateful for all these people who showed up for a last-minute event. Sure, I might not have been able to spend another night with Axel, but life has a way of giving you second chances. You just have to spot them and take them. I plan to take mine. Maybe even tomorrow night when I land in New York. I’ll stop by his place and read what I wrote for him this afternoon.

For now, I shake the thoughts of a possible us away, and I answer questions about the book I’ll be signing tonight, about what I’m working on, about my favorite moment from The I Do Redo, and then a question that doesn’t surprise me at all.

“Are you excited to start working on Lacey’s book with Axel Huxley?” a French reader asks.

No matter what he says when I show him my new idea, I’m outrageously excited to work with him. And I know, too, that we’ll find a way to honor our contract, and, I hope, our hearts. “I can’t wait,” I say. In fact, I wrote a scene today for his eyes only. A brand-new one with a heroine who steals the covers, and likes to play word games, but then is terribly vulnerable when she asks the hero if he’ll give her another chance, and also to hold the tuna. It needs polishing, but I can do that on the flight home tomorrow. “We have lots of ideas for where to take the characters.”

“Next question.” The bookstore manager points to someone in the back of the event area.