He hesitates, like maybe he knows this isn’t really about a flood, but he doesn’t care enough to ask. And that tells me everything I need to know.
I toss a few bills on the table—too much, but I want the clean break—and straighten. “Good luck with your… networking circle,” I say, offering a polite, final smile before turning for the door.
I rush outside. The city air hits cool and sharp, cutting through the cloying scent of the restaurant’s perfume and fried oil. It’s like breathing again after holding my breath for an hour.
I pause just outside, my pulse still racing from the rush of it—relief, amusement, the tiniest bit of pride. I glance back through the window. Brad’s already on his phone, probably trying to find someone else’s bed to warm tonight. Thank god it isn’t me.
My phone buzzes before I’ve even made it halfway down the block.
Jay
Mission accomplished?
Liv
The flood wasinspired.You’re getting a medal.
Jay
Just doing my civic duty. Did he buy it?
Liv
He did. You’re a very convincing actor.
Jay
It’s the years of bailing Hudson out, it prepared me.
I smile at my phone, shaking my head as I type back.
Liv
Thanks, roomie. You saved me.
Jay
Anytime.
The message lingers on the screen longer than it should, warmth spreading through me despite the cold, and then I realize I’m more excited at the prospect of going home to someone like Jay, who actually makes me laugh, than going on any other dates with men like Brad. I should probably feel pathetic for needing rescuing, but instead I feel lighter because I didn’t stay for the uncomfortable tonight.
***
The apartment is dark when I get back, with only the faint glow from the lamp in the living room. Jay’s shoes are by the door, his keys on the hook. The small, ordinary signs of him being here settle something in me I didn’t know was unsettled.
The sofa creaks. “You made it back,” Jay says, voice low, rough with sleep. He props himself up on an elbow, hair a mess, blanket sliding down his chest.
“Completely. You missed your calling in Hollywood.”
“Please,” he snorts.
The corner of my mouth lifts. “I mean it, you’ve played the role of my husband, now my rescuer… I think you’re more versatile than you realize.”
His mouth twitches, the hint of a grin surfacing. “Guess I’ll have to start charging for my services.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say, dropping my keys in the bowl. “I can pay you in gratitude, or I can order us dinner this week, so you don’t have to cook.”
“Tempting,” he says, and there’s a teasing lilt in his voice that makes me glance up. His hair’s still a mess; he doesn’t have his glasses on right now, so I can see all of his face, and my brain compares the man I just spent the last hour with to him… the reality is, there is no comparison. Jay is kind, sweet, and thoughtful… Brad is quite literally none of those things. So it begs the obvious question: what the hell am I doing dating again?
