Page 145 of This is a Kissing Book

“About you and that hockey player! People are saying you were at the game last night—that you’re dating a guy on the Ottawa Outlaws.” Wendy grins. “They’re calling you the mystery woman who snagged the guy who used to date Iva Katz.”

“Meow,” Carmen claws the air.

“But our Juliana is the real catch here.”

So they know Linc plays hockey. Did they know all along? Was I the only one in the dark? How did word get out? Do I really want to know?

“It’s not a big deal,” I lie.

“Not a big deal?” Wendy gapes. “It’s official!”

My shoulders sag and then I tell them the story. “He kept it from me.”

Understanding passes between them.

“Oh.” Wendy’s face falls.

“You mean to say …” Carmen trails off.

“I didn’t know Linc, the billionaire’s son, my boss, and the hockey player were all the same person.” I leave out the last part about him also being the guy I love.

They’re stunned silent.

The only thing to do is share a group hug before I set out for battle.

Upstairs, Linc’s office door is closed. Relief and disappointment war in my chest—much like they used to when I was first assigned to be his assistant.

Nothing has changed, yet everything is different.

I’m not ready to see him, but his absence feels like another small abandonment. And if he had told me, what would I think? Would I be okay with him being a hockey player billionaire hybrid? Of course. Honesty is the problem. But I come back to my own secret. If only we’d kept both sides of our street clean.

The big question is, would I forgive him if he apologized? Would he accept my apology?

Thankfully, I don't spot Misha or Veronica, but three envelopes sit on my desk.

The first to Jules

The second to Juliana

The third to Miss Lindley

My fingers shake as I open the first envelope. Inside is a letter written in Linc’s familiar blocky letters, the same handwriting I’ve seen on countless reports and sticky notes over the past three months.

My dearest Jules,

I know I have no right to use that name after what I’ve put you through, but I can’t help myself. You will always be Jules to me—brilliant, fierce, beautiful Jules who challenged me to be better from the moment we met.

I lied to you about who I am, and there’s no excuse for that. I was a coward, afraid that if you knew the truth about my career, you’d see me differently. Afraid of how it would change things.

I owe you an explanation. I’ve been used by people who want something from me, whether it’s money, proximity to my father, or fame and my connections. Instead of admitting it hurt, I buried it inside and figured it would be safer to let you like me for me.

But you deserve better than my fears. You deserve honesty, respect, and someone who shows up completely—not hiding behind a summer internship and half-truths.

You asked me once what happens after we find the letters. I didn’t have an answer then, but I do now. After this, I want to spend the rest of my life proving that you can trust me. I want to be the man who brings you coffee in the morning and listens to your theories about Renaissance art authentication. I want to spend the holidays with your Mom, Brad, and your brothers, as the man who loves their daughter and sister. I want to give you the birthday celebrations your ex never bothered with and hold your hand through every whimsy you want to take.

I choose you, Buttercup. Not because you’re a summer fling or a temporary assistant, but because you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known. If you’ll let me, I want to love you exactly as you are—brilliant mind, beautiful, generous heart, forged diploma, and all.

Yours completely, Linc