“You should be by now,” I say, tilting my head. “Especially after all of this rigorous painting.”
He chuckles, and it makes my heart flip.
“There’s a place a few blocks down. Nothing fancy, but their pasta’s delicious. Wanna go?”
He gives me that lopsided grin again. “That sounds good tome.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, like we’re testing the waters in each other’s presence. I peer over and watch the focus in his eyes as he paints. His phone vibrates in his pocket, but he ignores it.
Then he says, “Micah seems interested in Heather.”
I snort, nearly dropping my brush. “Wait, seriously?”
He nods, grinning. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”
That makes me laugh so hard I have to lean my elbows on my knees. “Oh my god. She thinks he’s cute, too.”
His grin widens, and I swear it lights up the room. “Matchmakers?”
“Don’t tempt me,” I say, smirking. “I’ll do that in a heartbeat. Poor Heather, like me, has had shit luck. She keeps picking guys that lie and I choose ones that aren’t good enough.”
His gaze flicks back to his canvas, quiet for a moment. “Maybe tomorrow, they could join us,” he suggests.
I clear my throat. “We have an appointment tomorrow.”
He blinks. “For what?”
“To get you tested,” I say gently. “I went ahead and made it.”
He looks down, nodding once, the muscles in his jaw working. “Right.” Then, quieter: “Thanks.” The way he says it makes mewant to reach for his hand. But I don’t. I just watch him instead, the last of the sunset catching in his eyes.
“After that, though,” I add with a smile.
Dinner stretches longer than I expect. The food is amazing as always. Jude eats like he hasn’t in days, and I don’t comment on it, though I notice. Every time he looks up from his alfredo, I catch a glimpse of the man I used to know, but there’s a shadow there, too.
“Remember when we tried to sneak into the Of Monsters and Men concert, and I convinced the bouncer we were looking for our kid?” I say, grinning at the sudden memory.
Jude nearly chokes on his beer, laughing. “How could I forget? You made it so believable. You even started fake crying.”
“I panicked!” I laugh so hard I have to set my fork down. “You just stood there looking smug while I made a fool of myself. I had no idea where that excuse came from. Who says that?Oh, sorry, I was sneaking in. I was looking for my nonexistent child.”
He smirks at my mocking tone, eyes flicking up to mine. “You weren’t a fool. You were adorable.” My heart squeezes. For a second, neither of us speaks. Then, with a smirk, he adds, “Or maybe you just wanted to imagine what kind of dad I’d be.”
“Please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You would’ve lost the kid faster than me.”
He grins. “Probably.”
I shake my head, stabbing a meatball with my fork. I don’t know why, but eventhinkingabout him as a dad makes me want to cry and blush at the same time.
“You remember that night in your carafterthe concert?” he asks with a wicked smirk.
I clear my throat and take a sip of my mojito. “Vaguely.”
He tilts his head, his tone soft and playful. “Vaguely, huh? Because I remember you saying my name so many times, I thought the windows were going to fog over for good.”
“Jude!” I choke on a laugh, heat blooming up my neck as I glance around the restaurant.
“Uh huh, just like that.” He laughs at my red face. “What? It’s a good memory. I’ve thought about it a lot.”
