Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set Gigi Blume (fantasy books to read .txt) 📖

everything. Everything! An accumulation of the years of distant admiration, discreet longing, and devoted intimacy. A mutual fondness turned to heat, desire and… complete unconditional love. I could no longer contain the intensity of my feelings.

She was here, surrendering herself to me, to the ‘us’ we could be if we dared to dream. And whatever might become of our friendship would have to yield to the transports of our present delight. We could work it out. No more fear.

I wanted more. More of her heart. More of her smiles. More fun times. More reading, eating, watching movies. More quiet afternoons doing nothing at all.

My dearest Emma. And if there was anything true, sincere, or pure in my coming to her house tonight, it was the resolute and steadfast love I carried like one of those Olympic torch guys. Now the flame ignited hotter and fiercer in response to the alarming proximity of her perfect form. Her tiny movements. Her fevered breath.

“Emma?” A voice sounded from somewhere far, far away. It was a male voice, but it didn’t register at first because all the blood in my brain was re-directed elsewhere.

“Hey, Emma…”

She abruptly broke away from me. What was happening? The voice got nearer.

“Do you have any hypoallergenic shampoo?” The voice slowly phased into my conscious brain. I knew that voice. I knew it very well and as soon as the warmth of Emma cooled from my lips, the fireworks inside me lurched into something far more explosive.

Frank Churchill, adorned in nothing more than a paltry bath towel about his waist, descended the stairs with an aloof, cavalier swagger. He swaggered like Jagger.

His bare chest glistened with beads of moisture—not like I was a guy who noticed glistening man-chest, but he was right there, dripping all over the floor, unsatisfied with the choice of hair care products.

Tosser.

Emma, still flushed from our kiss, cleared her throat and ran the palms of her hands over her skirt to eliminate any evidence of our liaison.

Why was this man in her house and what was with the towel? Did he hear me come in and was claiming his territory? My imagination didn’t have to work too hard to reach a conclusion. All at once, the blood returned to my head, and I almost blacked out.

“Hey. Jaxson, my man.” The tosser was speaking to me now. I dug through the avalanche in my brain to find a way to excuse myself as quickly as possible. I needed to get out of there, but my feet were cemented in place. That sick unease in my gut was turning into something akin to an irrational rage I didn’t think I could control much longer. I wanted to punch Frank’s arrogant face. His right hand was busy holding the towel in place, giving me the advantage. I could take him.

I then noticed two wine glasses on the bar. Two. I still could taste it from Emma’s lips. Where else had those lips been tonight? Emma hardly ever drank. Was that why she kissed me? Because she lost her inhibitions? This was all wrong.

“There might be something in the linen closet at the top of the stairs. Look in there.” Emma’s gaze remained fixed on me while she spoke to Frank. Gauging my reaction perhaps. It was as though if one of us looked away, the other might vanish.

“Well, hey, nice to see you again, Jax.” Frank spun around and took one glance over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs.

Yeah, you made your point, mate. Now the floor’s all wet.

“Sorry.” Emma glanced over to make sure Frank was gone.

If you love her, set her free.

“It’s fine. Listen, I just stopped by to tell you the good news and to let you know I’ll be in Oz for a few weeks.”

Her face fell.

“You going to see your parents?”

“Yeah.” That mix tape got me thinking about Mum. How I missed her. I’d hoped to take Emma with me but now…

“What about the movie?”

“I’ll be back in time for pre-production.”

I offered her a quick, sad nod and turned to go.

“Wait, Jax.”

I stopped but didn’t turn back to see her. I was afraid what I’d do if she asked me to stay.

“What was this?” She meant the kiss. I had the same burning question.

“It was goodbye.”

Ouch. That hurt me more than it could ever hurt her. Like a stab right in the heart. I opened the front door and walked out onto her stoop as the rain trickled off the awning and sprayed in my direction. Now who had a glistening man-chest? Okay, soggy t-shirt was more like it.

Emma’s words stopped me. “You mean goodbye until we start filming. I’ll see you when you get back from Australia. Or we can FaceTime. You can text me photos of the crappy airplane food.”

So much for my dramatic exit. I considered saying something classically cheeky like, “Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” but I was just a droopy wet mess. When I turned back to reply, she was a vision from heaven, all angelic with a warm glow behind her hair. And it occurred to me then—she would never let me go. As long as she held on to a shred of my affection, she could never be happy with Frank.

Set her free.

“I have a confession to make. A secret I’ve kept for years, and I need to tell you now.” Surely, she’d hold a grudge once I told her the truth. She’d be free of me.

“Do you want to come back in, then?”

“No. It’ll make it harder for me to make a run for it once you swing the cast-iron skillet.”

She laughed and leaned against the threshold, hugging herself from the chill.

“Okay. What’s this secret, then?”

I cleared my throat like that would help. It didn’t.

“When you moved to Los Angeles six years ago, your mum and dad were afraid to see you go. They wanted you to stay in London.”

“Yeah, I know. But I was an adult and had my Aunt Stella to keep an