Page 17 of Actually Yours

She continues to look at him, a long, hostile look that reminds me of her hot-blooded Italian nature and after a full sixty seconds of glaring, (I counted) she relaxes. A bit.

“Good, then you can continue to come here and eat.”

The matter seemingly settled, Jake gives her a funny little bow and walks to the counter to order his coffee and breakfast, from the sounds of it.

“Does he come here often?” I ask, keeping my voice low, acutely aware that, at this time of day, before the morning rush of people, our conversation can be heard by anyone interested in listening.

Bella leans in, like we’re two spies devising a plan. “He’s been coming here almost every day for…” She leans back to think. “About six months.”

Huh? That’s right around the time that I broke up with Robby. Weird.

“It’s strange that you haven’t bumped into each other, given how often you’re both here.”

Thatisstrange.I watch Jake from under my lashes, my spot at the VIP table giving me the perfect viewpoint from which to ogle him. I mean, objectively run my eyes dismissively over him.

“You never told me how hot Robby’s brother is.” I shush Bella and her not-so-soft voice, my attention glued to Jake’s back.

“He’s my ex-boyfriend’sbrother,” I say, explaining the obvious, while letting my gaze drift over the way his suit jacket hugs his broad shoulders just so.I wonder where he finds the time to build up those muscles.From memory, the Jake I’d known worked ridiculously long hours.

“So?” My friend’s indignant tone pulls my attention back to her. “That doesn’t mean you have to be blind. My husband is a gorgeous specimen of a man and I can still appreciate all that Clark Kent goodness going on over there.”

I groan, my cheeks heating, well aware that Jake can most likely hear every word that is coming from my not-so-subtle best friend.

“I’m not talking about this with you right now.” I tilt my head in Jake’s direction, hoping she will take the hint and shut theheck up. All this talk of Jake as the hot Superman counterpart will not help me get rid of this pesky earworm, now, will it?

“Fine.” She heaves a sigh.Dramatic, much.“Then what are we allowed to talk about?”

From the corner of my eyes (OK, from the front and back of my eyes, that’s how close my attention is on this man), I follow Jake’s progress at the counter. He takes his freshly heated croissant and take-away coffee and walks it to the table…right next to ours.

“Nothing,” I mumble, well aware that I can’t update her on all things related to the note and what happened thereafter. “I’ll tell you later.”

Not picking up on any of the cues I’m putting down, she persists. “You wanted to tell me something. Sounds like it was important. On the night of the wedding, you sent me a garbled text message about a note. What was that all about?”

“I sent you a message?” Confused, I pull up my text messages and scroll back ten days, and there it is, in all its nonsensical glory:

AMELIA: A note! After all this time I get a note?!?

“I tried calling you back, but it went straight to voicemail. And then I had to leave for the airport the next day,” Bella explains while I put my head on the table and bang it, just a little, to knock some sense into it. “What’s going on?”

I take in her worried expression and, keeping my voice as low as possible, barely above a whisper, I outline what had happened the night of her wedding.

Bella, on the other hand, was not keeping her voice below a whisper. “He did WHAT?” In fact, her heated cry had every person in the café looking at us. Including Lilly from behind the counter. And Jake, whose face is the picture of contrition. Like this is somehow all his fault.

“Shhhhh,” I hiss, gesturing in Jake’s direction. “It’s all good now. I burnt the note, did a cleansing ritual. It’s all behind me.”

“Amelia,” she said, keeping her voice at a suitable decibel. Just. “What he did was so wrong.”

“I agree,” Jake’s voice chimes in, making it abundantly clear that he’s been listening to this entire conversation. “I’m going to kick his arse when he gets back.”

“Can I join you?” Bella asks, her cheeks red with rage.

“Absolutely!”

Before the two of them can bond any further over their tactics to beat up my ex-boyfriend, I put a stop to it.

“No violence is necessary here.” I give them both a hard look. “Let’s just move on.”

Bella huffs and looks like she wants to argue.

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