Page 38 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

DATE NIGHT

Hazel

As Axel and I lead the readers on the final activity of the final day of the tour—an hour-long bike tour around the city—I’m thinking about our date tonight when the tour ends.

We’re going to the Tivoli Gardens, the amusement park in the center of town. I can’t wait to ride The Demon and its three ridiculous vertical loops.

Bring on the adrenaline.

I’ll use it as fuel to say, What did you really want to tell me on the train?

I don’t think he was talking about books. I think— I hope —he was hinting at something more, something better.

Like, maybe we can try dating when we finish writing Lacey’s book at the end of the year. As I pump the pedals, riding past a fountain by the harbor, I picture that scenario down the road.

We could go back to New York. Meet up for our writing sessions.

Finish the story we promised, and the second we write The End we can explore bougie coffee shops in Brooklyn and mock their ridiculous pour-overs, go to art galleries and figure out how to sneak into them late at night to steal things back (for research of course), then take a tango lesson together because we could both incorporate tango into our stories—him for subterfuge, me for sexual tension.

And all of that, every second, would be foreplay.

The bickering, the bantering.

We could crash into each other at night.

I glance at my phone in the phone holder on the handlebars. Ten more minutes and the tour will be over. We’ll arrive at the hotel in the center of town.

We’ll say our goodbyes to Jackie, Alecia, Maria, Uma, Steven, and all the others. Amy and Jay too.

Then we’ll run off for our date. It’ll be one last night, but maybe a promise of what’s to come.

As I pedal, I practice the words. Want to date me in a few months ?

Tonight, under the twinkling lights of the adorably Scandinavian amusement park, will be the perfect time for me to take a chance.

But something nags at me as we cover the final blocks.

What if I’m asking for too much? What if this was just a vacation fling after all? What if I scare him away for good?

When we reach the hotel and lock up our bikes, I can’t shake this doubt. But I shove those thoughts aside since it’s time for goodbyes.

Axel works his way around the group, shaking hands, giving hugs. I do the same until I reach Jackie. “I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow,” I tell her softly.

Her eyes shine. “Thank you for everything.”

My throat tightens, but I clear away my own emotions then tell her, “You better email me and tell me how the deal went for the dog bandanas.”

She crosses her fingers. “I hope it goes well.”

“I know it will,” I tell her, then I hug her once more as my breath hitches. This was a special week in so many ways. It rejuvenated me. It reminded me that I might be the woman who works through her issues with words, but at least those words are reaching people, touching people.

Including myself.

The Book Besties head into a different hotel—I’m glad we have separate ones—and then I walk to Axel, more nervous than I’d thought I’d be. There are no more buffers. It’s just us for one more night.

Will I be brave?

I watch him, still talking intensely to Steven, still giving the guy all his attention, and I decide it’s time for me to change.

To choose better.

Axel’s the best choice I have ever made. I just know it.

There. That’s settled. My pulse evens like a boat lolling on peaceful waves.

But as I wait for him to finish, my phone trills. I grab it. Oh, I know this number. It’s the one that brings a cocktail of nerves and excitement.

My publisher.

Did something happen with the contract? What if they don’t want the book anymore? What if they want ten more books with Axel and me for one million dollars?

“Hello,” I say as I answer, and my voice is rusty.

“Hazel!” It’s Aaron, the publicist.

“Hazel Valentine,” Cady chimes.

“That’s me,” I say, stepping away from the hotel entrance and stopping at the quaint street corner.

“We have news,” Cady practically sings.

“Such good news. You know how well The I Do Redo is selling?”

“Like, everywhere,” Cady tag teams. “The U.S. and the world, and France and just everywhere.”

Everywhere is indeed everywhere. “I’ve heard. Michelle said the same. I’m so glad.”

“Oh, good. So you’ll go?”

Did I miss something? “Go where?”

Aaron tuts. “Cady, you didn’t even tell her.”

“Ack! My bad,” Cady says. “I got ahead of myself. Hazel, An Open Book wants you to do a special signing tomorrow.”

“In New York? When I return?”

I can hear Aaron roll his eyes. “I got this, Cady,” he says to her, then to me.

“No, sweetie. In Paris. The store wants you to do a solo event tomorrow, a reader Q and A, and to sign both the French and English editions. Since you’re already there, we thought, easy-peasy.

We’ll tack it onto the end. If you can just grab a flight to Paris tonight, you can do it tomorrow and leave from Charles de Gaulle. We’ll handle everything.”

That’s…incredible and awful. I turn toward Axel, unsuspecting as he chats with Steven. Axel glances at me, a dirty look in his eyes, like he can’t wait to get me alone.

I have to look away and confirm I heard right. “You want me to leave tonight?”

“Well, sort of. More like in the next two hours. I’ve got my Google Flights open and we can get you on the next flight out of Copenhagen to go to Paris for the event tomorrow. Lancaster Abel would be so happy if you could do this.”

My heart hurts. I want so badly to stay here, to have one wild and free night with Axel. To talk.

But I don’t want to disappoint my publisher or my readers. “Of course,” I say, sounding hollow. Feeling hollow.

They rattle off details, including that a car is coming for me in fifteen minutes.

When I hang up, Steven has taken off. It’s just Axel and me outside the hotel on the Danish street.

I must be frowning because his expression shifts as he walks to my side. His sly smile burns off, replaced by question marks. When he reaches me, he looks…guarded. “What’s going on?”

My throat is too tight to speak. I feel sick. This is so dumb. I should not feel this emotional. “I have to leave. I’m going to Paris in…” I croak the next words. “Fifteen minutes.”

He blinks, startled. His eyes flicker with surprise, maybe even hurt. “You do?”

I quickly explain, finishing with, “I’m sorry.”

But that sounds so weak. Except I don’t know what else to say. I was going to ask to maybe date you in a few months, but hey, gotta go .

I can’t say that before I take off. I can’t ask him what I haven’t truly figured out myself.

Especially when a black town car pulls up to the curb ahead of schedule. A driver hops out, holds up a sign.

Valentine.

No Huxley.

Just me.

There isn’t even time for goodbye. I need to grab my bag from the bell desk. I rush inside, snagging my stuff, then return to the sidewalk, right outside the entrance. Axel’s still here, but he no longer looks shell-shocked.

He seems cool. In control. He’s sporting his nothing bothers me face as he leans against the hotel facade.

“Sorry about tonight,” I say, but that barely covers it.

He waves a dismissive hand. “No big deal.”

But it’s a huge deal , I want to scream. Only he seems like the Axel of before, and I don’t know what to make of it.

I manage a confused, “I’ll see you in New York.”

Then, like a confident, aloof hero in a romance novel, he cups my jaw and presses a quick, final kiss to my lips.

Final. It feels final.

“This was fun. And we’ll get back to work in New York,” he says, and that’s that. “Like we planned.”

The only-for-the-trip trope is over. And so are we.

I slide into the car, feeling rattled and thrown. The vehicle pulls onto the road to head to the airport.

I turn my face to the window, looking back, but Axel is already walking away.