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

in the world. He can flirt with any woman when he fancies himself at leisure but suffers none of the consequences. Isn’t that just bloody fantastic?”

“Jax?”

“Man gets pretty girlfriend. Man ignores pretty girlfriend and makes her jealous. Oh, and bonus points if he can play around with other women’s feelings. But wait, there’s more—the girlfriend is having his baby. What do ya know? Everyone jumps at the opportunity to congratulate him. And why not? It’s Hollywood, after all.”

“Ummm…”

“Ya know? I envy the guy.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Some of us play by the rules. Maybe get ourselves stuck in the friend zone while Frank Churchill gets to ride off into the sunset. Maybe I’d like that, too.”

Emma started at that but thought better of it in favour of a new subject.

“Hey, how about you show me pics of your airplane food. You know you can’t resist taking those.”

I replied in a grave tone and with the most serious face I could feign to wear, considering all I wanted to do was stare upon her lovingly.

“Emma, please let me say what I came here to say before I regret it.”

Her bottom lip puckered out. “If you think you’ll regret it, don’t say it at all.”

“Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“Just please. Stop. Think about what you’re about to say. Really think. Because once you say it, you can’t unsay it. Then we’ll both regret you said it, and you’ll wonder why I let you say it in the first place. I’ll say I tried to keep you from saying anything at all.”

Boy, that girl had a lot of breath in her lungs. I couldn’t prevent the corner of my mouth from curling; I rather liked messing with her. “So… what are you saying?”

She growled. It was cute.

“Emma, I—”

“Let’s just pretend,” she pleaded. “Then nothing has to change at all.”

Her words rang in the wind between us, and I caught their meaning loud and clear. She might not have been interested in Frank, but that didn’t mean she fancied me. She was perfectly happy with whatever arrangement we had going on. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. We’d crossed out of the friend zone a while ago and if we tried to go back, I was certain I’d die from the journey Grapes of Wrath style.

But because I loved Emma with every heartbeat and every breath, I couldn’t bring myself to cause her any discomfort.

Telling her how I felt, springing my hopes upon her, making her choose between the us I wanted and the us we already were—that was a burden I’d never weigh upon her. Even if it killed me inside.

“Okay,” I said softly, the word like clay in my throat. “Okay.” I inclined my head just so, studying her perfect face. Even twisted into her current expression—eyebrows wedged into one another causing deep creases on her soft forehead, nose crinkled like a Shar Pei, teeth clamped down over her bottom lip—her face was still the loveliest vision on the face of this earth. Seven Wonders of the World? Rubbish. The Cliffs of Moher? Slums. Australia’s Great Barrier Reef? Meh. All second-rate compared to Emma.

The way the setting sun cast a golden hue across her skin, the way the wind swept her hair in a dance around her shoulders, the way she cast her gaze up to me, round and wide—expressing equal parts sadness and reprieve in a single glance. It was too beautiful and devastating, like staring into the sun. My heart constricted in my chest and although the salt air was crisp and fresh, I found myself unable to breathe. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to endure this torture, if I had much strength left in me to love her at arm’s length, watching her radiant smiles and sunny humour with easy indifference after the small intimacy I tasted.

Let’s just pretend.

Oh, Emma. Maybe tomorrow I could play that game—put on a happy face and pretend nothing changed between us. Tomorrow. Not today.

“I better head home,” I said in glum tones. “I’m tired.”

“Don’t you want to stay? We can put on a movie.”

“No.” It was the only response I had energy for at this point. Taking in her beauty once more, I pressed my lips on her crinkled forehead, turned from her, and walked away.

32

Whatever Is True

Emma

An invisible string connected my heart to Jaxson and with every step he took down the shore, that string tugged, threatening to tear through my navel. I had visions of my poor slimy heart being dragged across the sand, still thumping but only just—sand getting caked into the nooks and crannies. I supposed that’s what happens when one falls in love with their best friend. There wasn’t any other way to put it. I was unequivocally, most assuredly, and fiercely in love with Jaxson Knightly.

But wouldn’t it follow that if I loved him, I would do so without question, without conditions? I’d never felt any emotion so strongly before. It was a little disconcerting and thrilling at the same time. Especially the whole unrequited bit. Jax should have given me the part of Isabelle instead of Penelope. I’d play the part of jilted lover with eerie precision.

He said he was tired. But was that just an excuse to go see Harriet? He did seem jet lagged. Jaxson was within half a sentence of telling me he loved her, and I was too selfish to listen. I was the worst matchmaker and now the worst friend.

“Wait.” My feet flew through the cool sand to catch his long, swift strides. I was slightly out of breath when I reached him, rounding in front of his path.

“You wanted to tell me something, and I stopped you. That was… selfish of me.”

Jaxson pursed his lips into a tight line and let me continue. Maybe I had him at ‘selfish.’ Tears pooled in my eyes as I lifted my gaze to his marvellous, stoic face. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Jax. I’m sorry.” His eyebrows shot