Finding Him (Covet 2)

A chaos of emotions hit me all at once.

We were in his shower.

Eating donuts.

Making out.

I’d puked two hours before, but that didn’t matter to him now.

And this man, this very clever, gorgeous man, was taking time out of his busy life to help me write a book about the only man I’d ever loved.

It was almost too impossible to believe.

And then I realized . . . that was why Julian was special.

Because when he wanted something, he went after it full force, with all his soul—and all his heart.

Which just meant I needed to be more careful.

Because when hearts are involved they usually end up bruised or broken, and I would rather die than break this man’s heart.

I wondered if he realized he still had one, even after his mom’s death. It was just hidden beneath a lot of pain and sadness that I knew so well.

Grief was a giant.

It was a monster.

It demanded to be heard.

One day his giant would come knocking.

And Julian would have no choice but to let his heart break.

I only hoped I would still be here to help him pick up the pieces and to, of course, give him donuts between kisses.

Chapter Thirty-One

JULIAN

Kissing her was going to be my downfall, wasn’t it? I pressed another kiss to her cheek and then grabbed her hand. “Let’s go finish watching another episode, yeah?”

She looked like she was going to say something.

Her eyes darted between my mouth and my eyes. I was almost afraid to let her speak, because I was so damn worried she would say something horrible like “I’m sorry” or “It was an accident.”

It wasn’t an accident.

And neither of us were sorry.

But it almost felt like we needed to say that because there was someone between us, and even though logically I knew she wasn’t cheating and that this was okay, I also knew that the chasm separating us wasn’t going to just magically fill anytime soon.

There were too many obstacles.

Huge ones.

I smiled and wrapped an arm around her, then whispered in her ear, “I’m not sorry.”

It earned me a laugh.

And then she leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “I am.”

I paused. “What?”

She darted past me and ran into the living room, then very adorably grabbed another donut, and shoved it in her mouth.

It was the last chocolate one.

Should have known.

My eyebrows shot up. “Feel better?”

She nodded, because she probably couldn’t talk with all that donut in her mouth, and I think my heart did something funny in my chest, because I couldn’t look away, and my smile hurt my face.

She grabbed a napkin and sat down on the couch, and I walked over to join her. I wanted to hold her hand.

But I didn’t know the rules.

Because we existed outside of them, and as long as we were in isolation it didn’t matter, did it?

I reached for her hand.

And she let me.

Hours later, I still had no idea what the hell we watched. I was too focused on our hands touching, on the easy way she laughed when something was funny, or the way her eyes widened when something shocked her on TV.

And finally, the way she leaned her head on my shoulder and fell asleep.

That actually might be my new favorite thing.

I was careful not to wake her as I picked up her feet and laid her out on the couch, tucking a black down throw around her body.

Like a creepy idiot, I smiled when she made a noise in her sleep and tucked her hands beneath her chin.

God, she was pretty.

So pretty, so innocent looking that the guilt tried to climb back up through my throat, tried to force me to say words like “I don’t deserve you,” or “You should go.” Instead, thankfully, she was asleep. I tamped down the guilt, even though the laptop seemed to have a laser beam connected to it as I walked by.

How did a person move on from a past love when that one was still very much alive in the present? Because he was, Noah existed in her heart still, he was there every day in the book she was writing. How did you win that battle?

I had no fucking clue.

I grabbed a glass of water and set it on the coffee table along with a few stale crackers—it was all I had, but if she woke up feeling sick, I wanted her to have something.

By the time I made it into my bedroom, it was two in the morning and I was wide awake.

I hadn’t finished watching the home video I’d started, and part of me wanted to turn it on if only so my mom could meet the girl I was falling for, even though I knew it was stupid. But something about my mom’s voice coming across the speakers and the knowledge that Keaton was in the next room did something to me. It made my chest hurt and my heart slam against my rib cage like it needed a quick escape plan.