Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
I’m sure he will, though. I have all the faith in the world. “Your new book is going to be fucking amazing,” I say, wanting to give him all my confidence, the way he’s done for me.
“I hope so,” he says, a smile playing at his lips. “There might be a few little crossover elements with this one. Maybe that’s a bad idea since people will compare the two.”
“They might, but I’m certain your new book will be better than top-notch.”
“Maybe it will,” he says, hopeful. Then he picks up the novel again and weighs it in his hand like he’s not sure what to do with it.
For a few seconds, I’m afraid he’ll hold it out to me.
I don’t want to read it, but what if that helps him? If so, I’ll brave Flynn’s story.
“You know I haven’t read Top-Notch Boyfriend but if you ever wanted me to, I would,” I offer. “If you want someone to make sure the crossover hits just right, or someone to read it and remind you the new book is going to be even better than the first, I can be that guy.”
There. That’s manageable. Even if the thought of cracking it open feels wildly uncomfortable.
But maybe that’s what relationships are about—getting through the awkward times together. Being there even when one person seems to have something you don’t—because you’re a team, and their wins are your wins.
Their losses are your losses.
TJ sets down the paperback and smiles at me. “Thanks, Jude. I’ll let you know if I ever need that.”
I glance at the book again, hoping he doesn’t, but ready if he does.
A couple of hours later, we board the flight. The brunette in the third row does a double-take when I turn into the seat in front of her.
“Are you Jude Fox?” the woman asks. She’s maybe thirty, possibly thirty-five.
“Yes, I am,” I say.
She brings her hand to her mouth, her eyes shining with tears as she seems to fight off a stranglehold of emotions. “Your film . . . wow. You captured it—loving an addict. Your performance was so true,” she says, and two lone tears slide down her olive cheeks.
That’s one of the most emotional reactions I’ve ever gotten to If Found, Please Return. It’s gratifying to connect with someone so strongly. “Thank you. That means the world to me. Truly, it does,” I say as TJ puts our bags overhead.
“And then to see your character find love again? Well, it gave me hope,” she says, her voice wobbly. “I think the whole film gives a lot of people hope.”
My heart swells with gratitude. “That’s all I can ask for,” I say as she swipes at her cheeks. I hunt in my pockets for a tissue, even though I don’t carry them. When I look around, as if one will magically appear beside me, TJ’s vanished.
Where did he go?
Two seconds later, he returns, handing me a tissue.
Look at that. My fake boyfriend is so thoughtful. I give the tissue to the woman. “Thank you,” she says, dabbing at her eyes. “My sister battled addiction. That’s the other reason it touched me so. Sorry.”
I want to wrap her in a hug. “It’s so hard to watch someone you care about go through that struggle. Hard to know when to be there for them, and when to be tough.”
“That’s the hardest part,” she says.
My eyes stray to the man by my side. TJ’s quiet, though his expression hints he understands the dilemma too.
“Anyway, I’m Sofia, and I don’t want to interrupt your flight. But I had to say that, and to thank you. I can’t wait to see your next movie or TV show.”
“Thank you, Sofia. I can’t wait for you to tune in too.”
I sit, blowing out a breath, touched but energized, too, by the interaction.
Once he sits, TJ turns to face me, smiling softly. He’s not saying I told you so, and he’s not saying Didn’t I say once upon a time that you’d be recognized?
But he doesn’t have to voice those things. We both know he had more faith in me than I had in myself. That’s not something I want to take for granted ever again. But I don’t want to risk saying something damning in public, botching either our fake or our increasingly real romance, so I fish out my mobile and send TJ a text.
Jude: Thanks for the tissue save. A very romance-hero move.
When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he checks it, mouths clever, then types.
TJ: Did you like that more or less than the way I took off my shirt the other day?
Jude: Do not give me an unsolvable dilemma!
TJ: Answer the question, Jude.
Jude: Obviously the answer is—I like them both. And I WANT EVERYTHING :) With bread and pizza on top.
TJ: You mean . . . you on top.