“Well, there’s also your excellent taste in dying plants and your strong opinions about types of cake.”
I can’t help laughing. “Don’t forget my ability to kill said plants with aggressive love.”
He scrunches his nose at me. “A very attractive quality. It shows commitment.”
We order—him getting eggs Benedict and me getting French toast—and fall into easy conversation. It’s surreal how natural this feels. Every so often, I have to resist the urge to pinch myself again because I’m having brunch with Anthony Devine, and he’s stealing bacon off my plate and making fun of my coffee order— “Four sugars? Really?”
“I have a sweet tooth,” I defend myself. “You knew this about me. You bought me red velvet cake on our first date.”
“Technically, we’re still on our first date,” he points out.
Our eyes snag, and he gives me a bashful grin.
“It is turning into a very long first date,” I admit.
“What’s the highlight of our first date so far?” he asks, leaning in with his forearms crossed on the table, that crooked smile playing at his lips.
I try not to blush. “That thing you do with your tongue is pretty high up there. What about you?”
“Seeing your Anthony Devine shrine.”
I ball up my napkin and throw it at him. “We’re never calling it that.”
“Your museum of appreciation?”
“Nope.”
“Your gallery of aesthetic admiration?”
“I’m going to start throwing cutlery at you next.”
He laughs, a genuine, unguarded laugh that makes my chest tight. Because I’ve watched so many video clips of Anthony on the red carpet and in interviews, and I know his laugh doesn’t usually sound like this.
“I’d dodge flying cutlery. I have excellent reflexes. Comes from years of avoiding flying underwear on stage,” he says.
My eyebrows raise. “That’s a real thing that happens?”
“You’d be surprised what people throw. I once got hit in the face with a sleeve of crackers. I still don’t know what that was about.”
We’re just finishing up after an intense argument over who gets the last piece of bacon, when Anthony signs the check with a flourish.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I need to use the restroom first.”
“Meet you by the door.”
When I come back, Anthony’s waiting near the entrance, baseball cap pulled low, scrolling through his phone. I’ve almost reached him when I hear a familiar voice that makes my blood run cold.
“Nick?”
I turn to find Chad and three of his gym bros just arriving. Because, of course, the universe has a twisted sense of humor. When I’m finally having the kind of morning that makes mebelieve in rom-coms and fate and that good people manage to find each other, the universe apparently decides I need a humility check in the form of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
“Chad,” I manage.
His eyes flick between Anthony and me, who’s glanced up from his phone. I can see the exact moment Chad realizes why the guy I’m with looks familiar. His eyes widen.
“Is that…?” one of his friends whispers.
