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“He said he was in love with me back in college …”
Monica jumps up and down, nearly knocking over her chair. “I told you! Did I not?!”
I laugh, her exhilaration nothing short of contagious.
“Omg, so what’s next? What happens now? Does Jude know?”
“He left yesterday … I haven’t talked to him since … and I don’t know … we didn’t talk about Jude,” I say. “And quite frankly, I couldn’t care less what he thinks.”
Monica takes a seat, worry lines spreading across her forehead.
“Stone’s always been too loyal for his own good. He better not try and pull some bro code card shit after this,” she says.
“You think he would?”
“I don’t know. How’d you leave off yesterday?”
“I had dinner plans with Ida and he said he had to go home because Paul and Jude are staying at his place,” I say. “It wasn’t weird or awkward or anything, it was just a casual goodbye.”
Her mouth curves at the side.
“Hm. Okay. And you haven’t heard from him since?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Text him.” She points to my phone.
“And say what?”
“Thanks for the lay? Can we do it again sometime?” She laughs. “I don’t know. Just cast your reel out and test those waters …”
I grab my phone, hands shaking, feeling every bit a rookie as I tap out a message.
ME: Just realized you forgot to take your neon beer cup home with you yesterday …
I cringe when I show her. “It’s lame, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”
She throws her hands up. “Whatever works.”
A second later, the message shows as ‘read’ and three dots appear.
STONE: Thanks for the reminder. I’ll have to stop over and grab that soon.
I show Monica my phone. “This is good, right?”
“I’d say so.”
STONE: Maybe tonight? 7 o’clock?
My stomach somersaults and my jaw drops. I show her his message.
“I told you,” she smacks the table in celebration. “I told you, I told you, I told you.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Stone
* * *
Jude’s camped out at my kitchen island when I get home from work Monday, his nose buried in his laptop. Outside, Paul smokes a cigar on my patio, chatting it up with the blonde fifty-year-old widow next door.
“What’s up,” Jude says without looking my way.
“When you didn’t come home last night, I thought maybe you’d patched things up with Stassi,” I say.
He squints at his screen, shaking his head. “Nah. We talked and she let me stay last night.”
“That’s good.”
He tilts his head to the side, like he disagrees. “I’m still on her shit list.”
“Really?”
“I told her I wished it could be like it was in the beginning.”
“The beginning … as in Tulum?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“You were strangers then. Horny college students. You realize it’s impossible to go back to that … nostalgia’s a beautiful liar, you know.” I use Jovie’s line because it’s brilliant and it’s fitting and it’s true and he needs to hear it.
His gaze hardens, like the words are registering in real time.
“It just feels like I’m making the wrong decision here,” he says a moment later.
My body turns tense at his statement. If he’s referring to choosing the wrong woman, that could mean he’s still hung up on Jovie …
“Five years is a record for you,” I say. “And sure, you’ve had some ups and downs. No such thing as a perfect relationship. You really want to throw in the towel now? At zero hour? Your wedding’s in three weeks …”
“Maybe I’m not meant to be married.”
I hunch over the kitchen island, blowing a hard breath through pursed lips, gathering the strength to deal with this beloved idiot.
“Cold feet, Jude,” I say, clapping my hands together. “That’s all it is. Cold feet. Both of you. Suck it up. You’ve got a two-hundred-thousand dollar wedding just around the corner. Guests flying in from all over the world. You’ve got your bachelor party in a couple of weeks. You’ve had your wedding showers. You’ve got a cushy job at your future father in law’s company. You’re set for life. All you have to do is walk down the aisle with Stassi and say I do.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is. This is what you wanted, remember? She is who you wanted,” I say. “I don’t understand how you suddenly don’t want any of it. What changed?”
“You act like I’m the only person in the world to second guess themselves. Unlike you, not all of us are immune to self-doubt.”
“I’m not immune to self-doubt.” I stand up straight.
“Everything you’ve ever wanted—you’ve gone for it.”
That isn’t true.
Not everything …
“Stassi … she’s a good girl,” Jude says, though I keep my opposing opinion to myself. It’s not my circus nor my monkey. “But sometimes I feel like I’m never going to live up to her expectations. Hell, she dresses me like I’m some kind of project. She has to approve every piece of clothing that touches my body before I walk out the door. And the Range Rover? I’m not a Range Rover guy—you know that. She picked that car out. And the color too. What the hell even is Amalfi Blue? And sometimes I just want to go to a sports bar and have wings, but getting her to go anywhere that doesn’t require reservations months in advance is like pulling teeth.”
