Page 205 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
I swallow roughly. “Not till right now.”
Jude smiles warmly, as if he’s glad to be the one I invited in. He rubs my arm. “And so... you never told her you knew. You never asked her what was going on. You never said a word to your brother. You chose to protect everyone... including yourself,” he says, kind and caring and understanding me completely.
Just like that.
Ah shit. I thought I was holding it together. I thought I was fine with what went down and saying it nonchalantly now. But when Jude connects the dots, I’m not so chill.
“I wanted to protect Chance, so it wouldn’t affect what he loved. I wanted to protect my dad since he didn’t know. And I wanted to protect my mom, in case the affair didn’t work out. So, that might explain why I’m alittlesecretive,” I say, with an abashed smile.
“It does.” Jude runs his fingers softly through my hair. “You protected everyone, and then you just kept doing it for a long,long time.” He stops to play with a strand, stroking it lovingly. “You meant it when you said you were trying to protect me last year from getting hurt.”
“I did mean it, Jude,” I say, so damn grateful that no one is hunting for used jackets right now.
I don’t want to leave this safe zone with him, now that I know what I’m feeling—freedom. Maybe this means I no longer need to be everyone’s protector, including my own. “But I don’t want to be that guy anymore. Who keeps it all to himself. Who doesn’t let someone in,” I admit.
“You’re not that guy anymore,” he says, setting a hand firmly on my chest for emphasis. “You’rethisman. A good man. And you shared all that just to help me with a part.” He sounds a little awestruck. “Thank you.”
“Thanks for making it weirdly easy,” I say with a smile.
Jude and I are quiet for several seconds, and then he lets go of me. “When I didn’t work for two years— you want to know why?”
I blink, surprised at the shift but ready for whatever he wants to share. “I do.”
“When Arlo—he’s my ex—used me to get my former agent, that was only the start of it. He slept with my agent,” he says, and I nod. Jude told me that in Los Angeles. But clearly, there’s more to the story. “Then my agent started sending Arlo out for more roles, ones he’d have sent me on. Andmyrole. Arlo and Harry worked some kind of backroom deal forOur Secret Courtshipwhere if the producers wrote me off, they’d bring back the character for him. So, Arlo got my part on that show.That’s why I was gone and he eventually replaced me.”
Talk about backstabbing. No wonder Jude was suspicious as fuck. “Shit. I do need to take out a hit on them,” I say.
“What happened next is on me,” he continues, self-loathing in his tone as he runs a finger over the old leather of a gray jacketon the rack. “I didn’t realize it at the time. But I stopped truly giving my emotions to my roles. I shut down my feelings. I didn’t want to get hurt again. But I hurt myself because I didn’t put any of my heart or my hurt into auditions. I didn’t work. I didn’t get cast in any parts. I was a mess,” he says with a heavy sigh.
“I hate that you blamed yourself. But don’t beat yourself up now,” I implore him.
He lets go of the soft leather. Meets my eyes unflinchingly. “I’m okay now. At the time, though? I was in a dark place. It wasn’t tillPillow Talkthat I got my act together and realized I needed to be honest with my emotions on stage and in front of the camera, or I’d never make it,” he says, then takes a moment, maybe to center himself. “So, I understand your need to keep secrets. I kept my own for a while too. I was ashamed of what I’d done in those two years—bynot trying. I was hurt and angry, and I turned off my emotions. I didn’t want anyone to know it was my fault I hadn’t worked. It was my fault I didn’t get any roles. When I saw you last year, I was ashamed to tell you. I didn’t want you to know how I’d stalled out my career.”
“I wouldn’t have been disappointed in you, though. I’ve always believed in you.”
He meets my gaze, his blue eyes full of gratitude. “I know that now. I maybe even knew it then, but I had a chip on my shoulder. I think that’s all part of why I handled everything with you so badly last year. I was really insecure. I didn’t think I was good enough for you, and you tried to assure me it wasn’t a race, but I couldn’t handle it.” He exhales in deep regret.
My heart hurtles to him. Iknowwhat it’s like to beat yourself up. “I’m my own worst enemy too. I didn’t write for ten fucking months after Los Angeles. I felt like a failure, and then you came into my world again and reminded me I wasn’t.”
“I’ll remind you anytime,” he tells me.
I glimpse his smile sneaking through. That smile is like the sun warming my soul.
But I want to make him feel good too. “You’re Jude Fucking Fox.” I curl a hand tightly around his shoulder. “You’re the man who touches people with your performances. Like the woman on the plane whohadto tell you what your movie meant to her, like that British blogger at Food who said she was gutted by your performance.” I take a beat. “Like me.”
He dips his face briefly, then raises it and smiles. “You’re the reason the movie was so good.”
“You mean you put the hurt and anger into the role?” I ask, though, of course, I wish I’d never hurt him.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “The opposite. The way you showed up for me atPillow Talk. The way you laughed during the performance. And then the thing you said backstage.You make me believe.That’s what I held onto when I went into theIf Found, Please Returnaudition. That’s what I held onto when we were shooting too.Make them believe.”
“You’ll keep making people believe for a long, long time.”
“We both will,” Jude says, and he’s confident but not cocky. He’s self-assured now, where before he grappled with insecurity. I love this change in him. But I love itforhim.Jude’s happier with who he is.
He tips his forehead to the register. “Now, let me buy you this scrummy shirt. I can’t wait to see you wear it tomorrow night. And we’ll just keep looking for foxes,” he says, then spins around to head to the counter.
“There’s a great?—”