She glares playfully, pointing her spoon at me. “Don’t youdaretell him.”
“Girl, Jude and I already talked about it,” I say, still smiling. “Both of you were obviously googly over each other. And guess what? Micah thinks you’re pretty.”
“Shut up, he does not,” she gasps, and we’re both laughing when there’s a knock at the door. The sound makes us go quiet, and my stomach does that stupid flip again. I wipe my hands on a towel, breathe once, and try to compose myself.
Heather, now even more excited than before, chucks the roll of paper towels at me with a quiet squeal.
I roll my eyes, but there’s no hiding my smile as I walk toward the door. When I open it, the cool evening air drifts in, and with it, Jude. He’s standing there beside Micah, one hand tucked in his black jeans pocket, the other holding a brown paper bag. His hair is slightly damp, like he’s just showered, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. He smells faintly of rain, smoke, and amber cologne.
“Hey,” he says, a beautiful smile on his lips.
“Hey,” I breathe, stepping back to let them in. My pulse flutters.
Micah grins, taking the brown bag from Jude. “We brought reinforcements.”
“Is that wine?” Heather laughs from the kitchen. “Smart man.”
Jude follows me inside, his eyes sweeping over the warm lights, the flowers in the vase, the half-set table. “It smells incredible,” he murmurs.
“Thanks,” I say, leaning over to pet Nova, who runs over toward Micah. “Just pasta.”
“Oh, who is this beautiful gal, huh?” Micah extends his arms out, getting Nova so excited that she prances in place. Heather giggles.
Jude gives a faint smile, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Just pasta,she says. You forget how good you are at this. You were always my favorite chef.”
My cheeks heat. Heather shoots a wink at me before turning to Micah and talking like they’ve known each other for years. She teases him about his wallpaper background, and he fires back with playful sarcasm. Within minutes, she’s laughing that full, beautiful laugh that fills any room. I can’t help but glance at Jude, wondering if he notices too.
He does. His mouth curves. “Matchmaking pro.”
“Maybe,” I whisper, and his quiet laugh sends heat through me.
Dinner is loud and warm, with an energy that makes a house feel alive. Jude sits across from me, and every time I look up, he’s already watching. The way he looks at me pulls memories to the surface—things I shouldn’t be thinking about right now. When Heather tells a story about a disastrous date, Jude’s laugh joins mine, and for a moment, it almost feels...easy.
After dinner, we drift to the couch. The lights are low, and an indie track is humming softly in the background. Heather andMicah sit shoulder to shoulder, talking about his experience on the road. Jude’s beside me, his knee brushing mine now and then.
He glances around the room, then back at me. “This feels...weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like everything we could’ve had.” His gaze lingers on my lips before meeting my eyes. “Years ago.”
My throat tightens. “I don’t know what to say to that, Jude.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
Something in his expression makes my eyes burn—like he’s seeing every version of me he’s ever loved. Then Micah laughs, and the moment fractures. Jude leans back, clearing his throat, eyes flicking toward our friends. I do the same.
Later, when it’s time to say goodbye, Heather and Micah are still laughing as they head out. The porch light catches in her hair, and for a second, she looks genuinely happy. Micah winks at me before following her toward the car.
Jude lingers by the door as I lean against the frame.
“Oh, um, I got the call from the doctor,” I say softly. “You’re clean.”
Relief breaks across his face. “That’s...really good to hear.” I incline my chin, searching his eyes.
His gaze drops to my mouth, then lifts again, conflicted. “Emma,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t—”
I step closer before I can stop myself. “Then don’t,” I whisper. “But don’t look at me like that if you’re not going to.”