Page 67 of The Perfect Rom-Com

Jack turns his attention back to me when we’re out of sight and then swivels me around to face him, looking down at me like I’m his misbehaving puppy.

He looks down at our entwined hands.

And for one long, deep moment says nothing. Does . . . nothing.

Just stands there with me on this wind-beaten shopping boardwalk as we listen to the sound of waves and children, holding on to each other in a moment of surprise.

“Let’s . . . take a walk.” Jack’s voice is different than it was a moment ago. He begins to walk and slowly lets go of my hand. He takes a few more steps. Stuffs his own hand into his pocket. “Bryony, I can’t protect you if you try to sabotage Amelia.”

“I wasn’t trying. Okay, fine, I was just a tiny bit. But she looked at this poor woman,” I say accusingly.

There’s a pause.

“And . . . ?”

“She did that look of hers! That evil look!” I cry out. “You know the one.”

“Look. I know she can be—”

“—a cold-blooded, man-eating dragon—”

“—but she—”

“—makes you loads of money with her schemes—”

“—and I—”

“—don’t want to have to start wearing off-brand Polo—”

“Stop.” His fingers are on my lips to shush me. The touch is electric. “No,” he says softly. “What I’m trying to say is, I know she can be impossible to deal with, but she has afforded you an opportunity to do something about something you love, and I refuse to let you lose it.”

My heart has stopped.

My brain, stopped.

I’m suddenly stuck in this moment, this seagull-overhead, sea-breeze-all-around, surreal moment.

“So can you please do me a favor and try to step back to see the forest and the trees here? I’m only watching out for you.”

I press my lips together, unable to break myself away from his fingers on my lips and the intensity of his gaze.

“Well.” I clear my throat. “Well,” I say again. “You are good at your job, aren’t you? Is this how you win over all your clients?”

His eyes twinkle. “Why do you think old Mrs. Hastings has stayed with me so long?”

We share a grin.

But it’s different now. Oh gosh, is this what Parker was referring to? Have we been like this all along?

Gloria’s words are splashing around me now. Parker’s. But I never did anything about it. I still haven’t, and that counts.

Not to mention, there are stakes here. Jack may not feel this way about me at all. In fact, I remember with a mental thud, he doesn’t, of course. There’s Claire.

Or is it Chloe?

Whatever. There’s Claire/Chloe.

We turn back around, make it until we are in sight of the bookshop, and stop again.