Page 101 of Okay, Cupid

“Do you want to go back?”

“Yeah, eventually. My parents want to take my sister—she’s never met most of my family. They just need to take the time off from the bakery. Which … Lord knows when that’ll happen.” He shakes his head, letting his gaze drift down toward the white sand. “Maybe when they’re retired and I take over for them.”

I sigh, breathing out through my nose.

“I wish you’d follow your dreams,” I tell him again.

He waits a beat. It’s nice to not have to wonder if I’ve offended him. If I have, then I can erase his memory, and I’ve freed myself of this entire situation.

“I wish I could too,” he says. “But it’s complicated.”

“I seem to recall someone telling me about the road less traveled,” I remind him. “About following your dreams.”

“Ah, see, that’s so much easier said than done, though.” Huy huffs. “And even easier when they’re not your dreams.”

“Can you do something for me, then?” I turn to him.

“Uh … sure.”

“At least try?”

His brows furrow. “You make it sound like you’re going somewhere. Are you leaving?”

No, I’m not.

And that’s the problem. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be stuck in this city, living every single day knowing that Huy is somewhere out there, holding hands with the girl that I wish were me. It’d be so much easier if I were leaving, if I convinced Leah to move us somewhere far, far away.

“No,” I finally say. “I just … you know. I want to see you fulfill your dreams.”

He lets out a breath. “Maybe one day I can make it happen. Who knows.”

“You don’t until you try?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I tease him further. “Be bolder, Huy Trinh. Go for the things that you want.”

He looks at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I feel lucky to have you in my life, Jude Ricci.”

That’s surprising to hear come from his mouth, his lips forming the words slowly. He turns fully toward me, standing just barely two feet away as he smiles.

“I feel the same way about you,” I get brave enough to tell him.

Because why not? Why keep this from him? Everything else about what we’ve had has been a lie, a fabrication.

I want to tell him the truth. Just for once. I want something to be from me.

“You’re a good person,” I say to him. “I know that sometimes you might not think so, that you doubt yourself, your abilities, and your relationship with your parents. But I want you to know that you’re a good person.”

“Jude.” He moves closer as the words spill out. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“I just want you to know that,” I tell him. “Please?”

“Okay.” He smiles down at me, but there’s something new here. Something different.