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 startle, my spine straightening. What in the bloody hell? “He’s in London?” TJ’s in my city, and he didn’t look me up? The rat bastard. “Does he have a boyfriend now?”
Helen chuckles, shaking her head. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. He shops online. I sent him button-ups to New York, including a shirt with dinosaurs he wanted for a recent press appearance. And God no, he doesn’t have a boyfriend. You didn’t hear?”
This I have to know. “Hear what?”
When she tells me, I race home, curiosity fueling my every step.
It’s one thing to delete someone’s number. It’s another thing to resist the impulse to follow his career.
After my initial year-long TJ detox, I gave in to my natural curiosity. Looked him up online from time to time. Smiled at his pen name, then filed away a memory.
But now this nugget from Helen?
And on the very same day I re-read one of his notes to me? I’ve always believed in signs, and this feels like a big one.
My skin prickles with possibility as I head up the steps to my flat, unlock my door, toss the keys on the table.
The second the door closes, I plug the American’s name into Google, and the search engine serves me the Wikipedia details I already know. As a bestselling romance novelist, he’s written ten books published in the last five years, including Yes Man, Mister Benefits, Happy Trail, and The Size Principle.
Ah, but this next detail is news to me—both the book and the reception.
With a falling-for-his-best-friend’s-brother storyline, the author’s newest release, Top-Notch Boyfriend, became an instant bestseller.
I click on the second search result—a YouTube video from Trish’s Morning News Show. It’s a segment from last week titled New York Power Couples.
A pang of jealousy zips through me, but I quash it because the subtitle is Ouch, that’s gotta hurt.
I brace myself as I hit play.
The camera pans in on my one-time roommate-turned lover. TJ’s lounging on a red couch under studio lights, looking incredible in trim burgundy trousers, and a black shirt with a tiny dinosaur design on it.
Too bad he’s seated next to a fellow with a man bun, who looks like he’s swallowed an egg. I hate him on principle.
The camera swings to the host, a woman with a blonde bob, of course, since that’s the required haircut for hosts. “I’m here with one of the city’s newest power couples—the bestselling novelist and the rising star chef. Flynn, your new pop-up rotisserie chicken café boasts lines around the block. And your beau’s breakout book is the toast of the book world, having become a number-one bestseller in the first week of its release. Now, let’s be honest. Did Flynn inspire this new romance, TJ?”
TJ dips his face, a little embarrassed, but smiling too as he reaches for Flynn’s hand. I burn a little seeing that, even though I know what’s coming.
“I never kiss and tell,” TJ says, and my God, that’s such a TJ answer. Then he winks at the host and whispers, “the good parts.”
Cheeky fucker.
Trish turns to the long haired man. “Flynn, how does it feel to know that you’re the muse behind the book that’s been dubbed the it love story of the year? Bet you gained a few thousand new follows from that. Am I right?” she asks with a knowing nod and a smile to the audience.
“Well, I thought it was great,” Flynn says, but he pulls his hand away from TJ to adjust his own shirt, but his shirt didn’t need adjusting.
Oh hell. It’s like watching a car crash in slow-motion.
But Trish doesn’t seem to pick up on the hand cues. She simply waggles the red paperback around. “Personally, my favorite part in the story is when the hero says, ‘After all these years, do you have any idea what it’s like to fall madly in love with the one guy you thought you couldn’t have? It’s awful and wonderful at the same time. But that’s what love is—awful and wonderful.’” She clutches her chest. “Flynn, did you love that part when you first read it?”
“When I first read it, I did think it was great,” Flynn begins, then pauses, his brow knitting. He’s quiet, and there’s nothing worse on live TV than silence.
“And now it must be incredible. What with the book topping bestseller lists and helping bring those huge new crowds to your café?” Trish prompts.
More silence.
TJ sits up straighter, fear flickering in his brown eyes, awareness registering.
Oh, shit.
Flynn looks down, grabs the mic from his shirt, tugs at it, irritated. “Now, it’s just awful. I’ve been turned into a laughingstock—a circus sideshow. I only want to make the chicken, cook for people, and get great reviews. But that hardly matters anymore. I’m just some novelist’s trophy boyfriend.” He turns to TJ. “It’s all been about you—your coffee shop writing and your punny titles that you ask my advice on. But you can’t do that anymore—because we are over.”