Page 78 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

My heart beats a little faster. “He would. That’s the problem.”

She squeezes my arm like she’s giving me a shot of her own strength. “But you’re not going to reach out. Right?”

“I want to. But if I do, I think I’d get obsessed again, Liv.”

TJ made my obsession easy with his wit, his brain, and most of all, his unwavering support. He could have been my rock.

Maybe that’s the real heart of the issue.

I go home to my stick-in-the-mud roomie, and I spend an hour typing and erasing messages to TJ.

Can you believe it?

How the hell are you?

You helped me get this role, yes, I thought of you when I kissed her, and yes, I think of you every day.

But right when I’m this close to hitting send on all of them, my agent emails with a note that says,Booked you a small part on a TV show!

That feels like a sign.

Go forward, not back.

And so, I do.

I stop reading his articles. I don’t check the trades. Then, I do the hardest thing—I delete TJ’s number. It’s too tempting having him on my phone. I know myself. Some night, I’ll have too much cheap champagne. I’ll get the grand idea to say hello. I’ll act on the impulse to contact him.

I have to save him from me. And, most of all, I have to save myself from me.

Soon enough, all that cold turkey does the trick. I move on.

Fine, fine. I don’t always make the best decisions when it comes to my heart over the next seven years. Or my career.

But I do one thing exceptionally well—I stop chasing the past.

PART TWO

Seven Years After London

And then he looked me up . . .

28

PRETENDING TO BE WICKED

Jude

I can’t possibly keep all these books in my little flat in Bloomsbury. But I can damn well try.

My brother has other plans. Heath hunts through my shelves, grabbing friend after friend. “Seriously, do you truly need this copy of a Rhys Locke book you’ve read fifty times and also own in e-book?” He grabs the delicious mystery of the stolen sapphires.

“That’s my comfort read. I do too need it,” I point out, then grab the pristine paperback, wrench it away from him. I hold it close, precious thing that it is.

Heath shakes his head and grumbles. “I’m gifting these to the library. Rhys Locke is popular, and you’re obsessed with keeping his books in perfect condition. Ergo, they’ll make a lovely donation. So will most of these.”

I sink onto the couch, flinging a hand over my eyes. “Just take all my darlings. I can’t even look.”

“Excellent.” He chuckles without remorse, then riffles through some of my absolute favorites.