Page 253 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

Mainly, mine.

“But . . .”

“Just think about it,” he presses. “Maybe tell him you’re into him. Tell him you have a thing for him. Maybe he has a thing for you too.”

I swallow, ignoring the knot tightening in my throat. “But what if he doesn’t?” That sounds like an awful outcome. One I’m not sure I want to face.

“Then be an adult and move on. It might be awkward but you can handle it.”

“Adulting sucks,” I say.

“Yes, it does.”

I sigh heavily, wishing there were an easy solution. But I don’t see a path to one. “One-third of straight women, huh?”

“Believe it,” TJ says.

“Oh, you don’t have to convince me what’s worth watching.”

“But I do have to convince you what might be worth doing. So, consider telling River. Maybe something good will come of it,” he says with an easy shrug.

“Now that really sounds like something from one of your romance novels,” I tease.

“Sounds exactly likeTop-Notch Boyfriend.And listen, I wish my life were like my books. Alas,” he says, rises, then continues on his walk through the quaint ski town, “I need to jet. I have a call with my agent. Pretty sure he’s going to hound me about the status of my next book. Spoiler alert—the status isoverdue. But think about saying something. Maybe this road trip is a chanceto let the man know what’s been on your mind for the last few years.”

More like eight years, give or take.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, but the problem is I already think about it too much.

I’d like to not think about River like that.

I’d like all these feelings to go away.

Sort of like how Goldilocks feels about food that’s not duck and tuna pate.

4

OWEN

I exit my building a few minutes later, right as River wedges his Honda into a tiny spot. He maneuvers the sleek cherry-red car to the curb with the same kind of aplomb he demonstrates when making drinks.

Mmm. There is something sexy as fuck about a man who can parallel park on either side of the street with the same ease.

Just like there’s something sexy about a man who’ll give or take in bed.

Lingering on both images for a few seconds too long, I let out a happy sigh.

My eyes pop when I see the front seat of his car is empty. The black and white dog sits in the back.

River pushes open the passenger door from the inside. “I bargained with Delilah. I promised her steak if she’d let you ride shotgun,” he says, scratching her chin. She lifts it higher, leaning into the stroke, her eyes locked on River’s, never looking away.

I get you, girl.Oh yes, I do.

“Awww. I’m touched you negotiated on my behalf,” I say, getting into the car, and tossing my jacket to the back seat.

River lets go of the dog, cups the side of his mouth to whisper, “Don’t tell her, but you’re more interesting than she is.”

“Blasphemy, and I like it,” I say, setting my backpack and cooler on the floor near the dog. She dips her nose, sniffing, but doesn’t try to open the cooler. Well-trained—that’s Delilah. I stretch to stroke her soft head. “She looks like a little furry person sitting upright.”