His head tilts to the side as he thinks. He always used to do that when he was writing and the familiar motion warms something in my already wine-warmed chest. “What’s your favorite book you’ve written?”
“Hmm. I love them all, obviously. But I thinkWith a Twistis my favorite. There’s nothing like your first, I suppose.”
Nick nods, but I get the feeling he isn’t even really listening to my response. I can tell by the way his eyes pinch at the corners that he’s already stressed about what I’m going to ask him. And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t send a little thrill through me.
“My turn.” I smile at him, going for warm and friendly so he’ll feel at ease before I throw down the gauntlet. “Are you still in love with me?”
Chapter Sixteen
Nick
It’s a good thing I haven’t yet sampled the whiskey because I’d be choking on it. Or spitting it out like some sitcom character.
“Jesus, Jess. Not going to ease me in, are you?” I realize the innuendo the moment the words are out of my mouth.
She raises one eyebrow. “You know that’s not how I like it.”
She sounds so bold, so confident, but her flushed cheeks give her away.
I sip from my glass while I formulate my thoughts.
Jess’s eyes fill with disappointment.
“I’m not not answering, I just need a drink before I do.” I let the liquor burn a path down my chest and warm my belly. But I’m not sure even half a bottle of whiskey would be enough to give me the courage to say what I know I need to.
“Take as long as you need,” she says softly.
My eyes meet hers, and there’s no denying the truth. “Of course I’m still in love with you, Jess.” I think we’ve both known since I saw her backstage, maybe even since Isent her that first DM, and yet, it feels like some kind of relief to say it out loud. “How could I not be?”
She blinks in surprise before giving me a wry smile. “Is that your next question?”
I chuckle, but there’s no real humor in it. “No, it’s not. I…” I want to say more, give her more, but she stops me with a shake of her head.
“All you owe me is one answer, Nick. You don’t need to explain. Your turn for a question.” She holds her glass up to her lips, but doesn’t drink, a teasing glint in her eyes.
I don’t know how she can be so casual, so calm, when I just laid my whole heart bare, but something tells me she knew the answer to her question before I gave it. She always has been able to see right through me. “What accomplishment are you most proud of?”
Her head tilts to the side as she thinks, lowering the glass to rest on the arm of the chair. “Probably making it through my second book. I always thought authors were exaggerating about the sophomore slump, but it hit me hard. I hated writing that book, but now looking back on it, I’m so proud of how it came out.”
This chuckle is laced with real humor. “I felt the exact same way. I thought my second book might kill me.”
Of course, for both of us, our second books were the first books we’d written without each other. I’d always known how much I relied on Jess’s feedback and critiques, but it became wholly evident how much she contributed to my process when I sat down to write without her by my side.
“What’s something still left on your bucket list?” She surprises me with her change in direction. She came outof the gate hot, and I’m shocked she’s now veering toward easier topics.
Still, I bring my glass to my lips and drink. I already admitted I’m still in love with her, and the only things left on my bucket list involve finding a partner and settling down. Marriage and maybe a kid one day. I can’t lay that out there without something in return from her first.
“Really? You won’t answer that one?”
I shrug and smile, trying to keep things light and mysterious and likely failing miserably at both. “What’s something still left on your bucket list?” I throw the easy question back at her.
She rolls her eyes at my cheating. “Everything. Most of us haven’t already hit every list and seen our books made into blockbuster movies. I’ve hardly accomplished anything.”
I shake my head. “That’s not true, Jess. When we first met, your goal was to get an agent and get published and write more books and have fans make art of your characters, all things you’ve been able to check off your list.”
She takes a swig from her drink even though there’s no question on the table. “How do you know I’ve had fans make art of my characters?”
This time it’s my cheeks heating, because of course I check her Instagram. Pretty religiously, though I’m not going to admit that to her. “My point is, it’s easy to keep moving the goalposts, but it’s important to remember that the you from ten years ago would be so thrilled to see where you are now.”
