Page 53 of The Love Dare
He said he loves me, she tries to remind herself.Me!
But on some level, she just doesn’t believe it.
Winnie turns around, for the first time noticing the bookshelf on the opposite wall. She makes a beeline, needing to find the type of solace she’s only ever found with a page between her fingers. A few trinkets line the shelves—wooden bowls, glass orbs, the sort of meaningless stuff decorators buy to fill the space—nothing that saysTyler. All the books are displayed backward in that new monochrome style she loathes. The interior designer he used probably bought all of these too. Tyler’s not much of a reader, but still, Winnie pulls one out at random, in need of a distraction.
She instantly recognizes the cover.
It’s one of mine!
She perks up with a little grin as she runs her fingers along the colorful flowers arched over a kissing couple. It was one of her earliest solo covers. She gave the sketch to her boss on a whim after feeling inspired by the manuscript, and the author fell in love with it as soon as they showed her. There’s a photo on Winnie’s phone somewhere of her grinning like a buffoon, pointing at the book on display in a store window—her first in-the-wild sighting. Sam made her stop in the middle of the street to take it. Then they bought cake pops at the coffee shop next door to celebrate, giddy and giggling like two crazy people the entire time.
I can’t believe he has this.
It’s got to be a coincidence. And yet, a little spot at the back of her neck tingles.
I wonder…
Winnie yanks another book off the shelf. It’s one of hers again, a mystery this time, a cover she worked on with her boss. The next is, too. And the one after that as well. The fifth is her first indie cover—a commission she got from a brand-new author who wasn’t very popular yet. Why would this be here?
It’s not an accident. It can’t be.
A new idea turns over in her mind, too ridiculous to be true.
Five minutes later, Winnie has pulled every single book off the shelves, and aside from a few random ones on sports and the complete collection of William Shakespeare, it’s a verifiable copy of her Instagram grid. Every single cover she’s ever worked on stares up at her from where she’s arranged them on the ground. Yes, it’s an invasion of Tyler’s privacy. And yes, she’s completely trashed his once neat, clean home. No, she’s not even a little bit sorry.
Because what the hell.
What. The. Hell.
“I should’ve known you’d go right to the bookshelf.”
Winnie spins.
Tyler leans against the doorway, arms and ankles crossed, watching her with unabashed amusement. He’s sporting a bright purple NYU sweatshirt with matching pants that she would recognize anywhere. It’s the same set he and Alex showed up wearing the first time they came to visit her in college, complete with Statue of Liberty headbands, giantI Heart NYpins, and NY Yankees foam fingers. Sam happened to be in her dorm when they arrived, and her friend’s exact comment before she slipped out the door was,For the love of god, make them change. I can’t be seen in public with these goons.
Winnie snorts. “I can’t believe you still have that.”
“If you’re Barney, I’m Barney. We’re in this together.” He shrugs nonchalantly, but his words feel heavier than the gesture would make it seem. “I am still a little bitter, though, that Sam threw my foam finger in front of a moving subway car. It really completed the outfit.”
“She was ready to kill you both that night.”
“She’s ready to kill most people most nights.”
“True.” Winnie laughs softly. That’s part of her roommate’s charm, and really, the comment is rich coming from Tyler. He and Sam are two peas in a pod.
Apparently, I’ve got a type.
She looks back down at the books sprawled across the floor, each cover too familiar to be happenstance. A warm pressure expands her chest.
“Tyler.” She swallows, opens her mouth, shakes her head, breathes. “What is— Why are?—”
“I already told you, Win.” He pushes off the wall and comes closer. The moves are casual. The gleam in his eye is anything but. She can’t move as he lifts his hand to her cheek and brushes his thumb across her freckles. “I’m sort of obsessed with you.”
“But this…” She gestures at the floor, still at a loss for words.
“Is next-level stalking?” He winces. “I know. I just— Things weren’t the same after you left for New York. You were so far away, and I barely got to see you. It made me feel closer to you, I guess. Plus, I wanted to support you the way you’ve always supported me. I don’t know. That sounds really lame, doesn’t it?”
“No.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth to hide her smile. He keeps a steady hold on her chin, not letting her look away as he searches her eyes for some clue. So she gives him one—a secret just as revealing as his, her heart in her throat while she whispers the confession. “Unless you think it sounds really lame that I haven’t missed a single televised game of yours in six years.”
