Page 262 of Rush

I sigh. “Luca would be so lucky. You’re brilliant. You’re loyal. You’re pure sunshine wrapped in the most beautiful packaging.” I boop her nose with my fingertip.

Her eyes snap to mine—wide and glassy, like something I said actually touched the part of her she never lets anyone reach.

Then she smirks. “If I give Luca a real chance…maybeyoushould give Broderick a real one!”

I roll my eyes, tightening my coat. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we’redefinitelydoing this.”

I groan, grabbing my purse from the hook behind the door. My phone buzzes?—

Broderick

On my way. Hope you’re hungry. And bring some music for the drive.

Elena

Always. Hope you’re in the mood for Tuvan throat singing.

Riley watches me slide the phone into my bag like it confirms every unspoken thing.

“What did lover boy say?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“He’s on his way—bring a playlist.”

“Oh my God, did you make him a playlist?” Her head snaps up. “Babe.That’s third base for you. That’s basically an emotional handjob.”

I throw a sock at her face. And reach for the CD Broderick gave me for Christmas—Elena’s Mix Vol. 2.

She catches it midair. “Not denying it though.”

I turn back to the mirror. Noticing the flush creeping up in my face and it’s not just the blush I might have been a little heavy handed with.

This isn’t a date. It just isn’tnotone either.

The buzzer chimes, I go to leave my room to let Broderick up.

Riley jumps to her feet “Girl no…I’ll get it. Wait here. I’ll call you. This isn’t just a random catch up, make an entrance.”

I roll my eyes. “Riley, he’s seen me a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but tonight’s different.”

“Alright.”

She dashes out and I pace back and forth…waiting.

I hear the door open and the sound of their voices floating through the apartment.

“Elena, there’s a man at our door proposing for your hand in marriage in exchange for lands and titles,” she calls out her voice dripping with feigned sweetness.

I giggle to myself, one final look over and I grab my purse, trying to steady my breath.

There standing in the entryway is Broderick, holding a bouquet of red tulips and a gift bag. He’s dressed in a cream sweater which warms up his face, making him younger. Black trench, dark jeans, sneakers. Hair pushed back like he didn’t even try.

“Hey, baby,” he says before flashing that full dimpled smile that makes my knees weak.

If my cheeks were flushed before they’re molten now.