What if someone had walked in. What if Juliette had come looking for me. What if someone saw Melissa follow me, saw her corner me, saw her hand on my arm and jumped to conclusions.
All it would take is one misunderstanding. And everything I’ve been building with Juliette—five months of trying to get her attention, this entire week of her finally letting me in—it could all disappear.
I could loseher.
Not because I did anything wrong. But because someone else decided to be a nightmare and?—
I lean against the wall in the hallway.
This feeling. This panic. This absolute certainty that losing her would be the worst thing that could possibly happen.
I’m in love with her.
Not falling. Not interested.
Actually, completely, terrifyingly in love with her.
The kind where nothing else matters. The kind where the thought of her getting hurt makes me feel physically sick. Where I’d do anything to keep her safe and happy and looking at me the way she did at the falls an hour ago.
Holy shit.
I’ve never felt this before. Never even been close. I’ve dated plenty. Had relationships that were fun and easy and ended without much drama.
This is different.
This is everything.
And I might blow it. Not because I’m doing anything wrong, but because the world is full of people like Melissa and?—
I push off the wall and head back.
Melissa is already sitting when I get there. She gives me a satisfied little smile as I slide into my seat.
Juliette looks up. “You okay? You were gone a while.”
“Yeah. Fine. Just had to take a call.”
It’s a lie. What am I supposed to say? Your ex’s fiancée just cornered me in the bathroom and I had a complete breakdown in the hallway?
She’s watching me like she doesn’t quite believe it but she lets it go.
I pick up my water glass and try to focus. Owen’s dad is telling a story. People are laughing. Normal lunch conversation.
Then Melissa’s voice cuts through.
“So Juliette, you must be so understanding. Dating a professionalathlete and all.” She pauses. “I’m sure Rodriguez has women throwing themselves at him constantly. It must be so hard to deal with.”
Our end of the table goes quiet.
Juliette’s eyebrows do this complicated little frown. Confusion, then suspicion, then something shuttering closed.
And I realize she’s waiting for me to confirm her worst fear. That I’m just like Garrett.
Absolutely not.
Every thought in my brain disappears except one: she needs to see exactly how I feel about her.
I don’t think about it. Don’t plan it.
