35. Jules
CHAPTER 35
Jules
After a deep breath and a shot of tequila, I fire off the first shot across the bow.
@SydneySun: It’s your lucky day.
Then I send him all the images of the watch. His reply comes in almost instantly.
@MountainBoyNYC: That’s… incredible. Looks like you’re my guardian angel. How soon can I get it back?
I stare at the screen, and missing him hits me from out of nowhere like a thunderbolt—fast, hard, and impossible to ignore. It’s almost laughable that after everything—his insane proposal, the whirlwind wedding—this is what we’ve become.
Two strangers on Instagram, slipping into each other’s DMs over a watch .
@SydneySun: As soon as you’d like. Just send over where you’d like it delivered.
Simple. Keep it professional. He doesn’t even realize it’s me.
@MountainBoyNYC: I can swing by and grab it. The Herald?
He wants to come by the Herald? My stomach does a full-on somersault. Of course, he wants to come by. He still thinks I work there.
Which . . . I don’t.
I tap my finger against my chin, running through options.
Maybe I could meet him at a coffee shop.
But how? As Sydney Sun? I barely survived the first round with him, and the way this man scrambles my brain, with his blue eyes and stern brow, something is bound to slip. I know it.
There’s no way I’m pulling it off twice.
Don’t panic. Do. Not. Panic.
@SydneySun: I’m super busy, deadlines and all. I would ask Taylor, but she’s?—
Crap. She’s what?
Think, think, think . . .
On a Paris runway?
In Mexico, chasing down future husband number 105 because this time, he’s definitely the one?
My fingers start moving before I even realize it.
@SydneySun: —she’s a little clumsy. This morning, she spilled an entire caramel macchiato all over her favorite pair of heels and blamed it on a ghost.
True story. Though, technically, it was last week.
@SydneySun: She’s got her hands full. But what about her friend?
@MountainBoyNYC: Friend? What friend?
Me. Your wife, you idiot. I’m the friend.
@SydneySun: Y ou know. Gorgeous. Brilliant. The kind of woman a man would be a complete fool not to sweep off her feet and ravage mercilessly for three days straight.
Too much?
Delete, delete, delete.
@SydneySun: I think her name is Jules.
There’s a long pause. Agonizingly long. Bubbles pop up. Then disappear. And it’s. Killing. Me.
@MountainBoyNYC: I’ve waited this long for the watch. A little longer won’t hurt. But I’d rather meet you. Just to talk .
Just to talk? I suck in a sharp breath. He wants to talk—to me. Not his wife?
Also me.
@SydneySun: Didn’t I read somewhere that you were married?
I hit send without overthinking it, my heart racing as I stare at my phone. I shouldn’t care.
I mean, we never said I love you. Never even made it to second base. But the idea of him moving on so fast? It’s, ugh, infuriating.
And we did say vows in front of a freaking pastor.
And then his reply comes in.
@MountainBoyNYC: She left. Hates me, actually.
My eyes focus on the screen. Hates?
I mean, I did. I hated him with every fiber of my being. But the thing is, when it comes to Brian, I’m all out of hate. And what’s left is this warm, unexpected feeling bubbling up—like a cozy fire on a crisp mountain night.
A few seconds later, more bubbles.
@MountainBoyNYC: She walked out. Didn’t say a word. Took a cookie for the road and left the ring. Not that I blame her. It was a really good cookie. But still...
@MountainBoyNYC: If I’m being totally honest, I didn’t want it to end like that .
@MountainBoyNYC: Not that she would believe me, but I didn’t want it to end at all.
The tension in my chest tightens, refusing to let it go. I pick up my phone, my fingers moving on their own.
@SydneySun: You didn’t?
@MountainBoyNYC: Maybe it’s just a broken heart talking, but I need to talk to you. From that first article, it’s like you know me better than anyone. Granted, you were a little rough on me with the second one, but I probably deserve it.
@MountainBoyNYC: Coffee?
I blink at the screen, my heart stumbling over itself. He’s heartbroken? Over me ?
I should tell him. I should come clean right now and admit it’s me. That it’s been me all along. That me and Sydney Sun are one and the same.
My fingers hover over the keys, ready to spill the truth, when another message pings.
@MountainBoyNYC: Tomorrow. Noon. Coffee shop. Or I’ll hunt you down at the Herald.
I go to type a reply, but he’s gone. Offline. Deliberately.
A classic Bishop move.
One step ahead.
Always playing to win.