Page 43 of The Hookup Situation (Billionaire Situation #5)

NICK

I wake up to the smell of bacon and coffee, and for a moment, I think I’m dreaming. Then I see Julie standing in the bedroom doorway, holding a tray and wearing nothing but a T-shirt and panties.

“Happy thirty-one days,” she says with a sweet smile. “Ready to disappear and pretend I don’t exist?”

“As if that’s possible. I tried that last year, but it didn’t work out for me,” I tell her, sitting upright to lean against her headboard.

She sets the tray on the nightstand and climbs onto the bed, straddling my lap. Julie leans forward and kisses me, tasting like coffee and promise.

“How does it feel to make it past your infamous thirty-day mark?” she asks against my mouth, then pulls away. “Wait, does this even count? I mean, technically …”

“Hell yeah, it does.” I wrap my arms around her, leaning in to kiss her again. “The countdown began the moment I kissed you in the coffee shop.”

“So, you’re finally admitting that you kissed me ?” She laughs, running her fingers through my messy hair.

“I wanted to.”

I love the way she looks at me. It makes me believe I’m something special, something worth her time.

“Good, because I woke up early and made breakfast to celebrate this record-breaking occasion.”

“Thank you.”

The words I need you and want you forever sit heavy on my tongue, begging to be said, but I’m keeping emotions to myself. We agreed to wait, and it’s still two and a half weeks away. It’s hard.

“Thank you for not sliding out of bed last night and disappearing.” She grins. “Or suddenly deciding you need to find yourself in Tibet.”

“The only thing I need is more of you,” I admit freely.

“You have me.”

“Forever?” I tease as she crawls off of me.

I sit up straighter, and she sets the tray on my lap. There are two plates, one for each of us, and two cups of steaming coffee. She prepared crispy bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese, and hash browns.

“Wow,” I say. “This is the first time a woman has ever made me breakfast in bed.”

“Really?” She looks proud of herself. “I feel special to have one of your firsts.”

“You are special,” I admit. “No one ever cared enough.”

Her smile fades. “That makes me sad.”

“Aw, don’t be.” I chuckle. “I wasn’t the best partner. Being with you has made me realize I was an entitled asshole for no reason, who had zero respect for myself or anyone else. Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.” She sips her coffee, eyeing me. “So, I kept my end of our fake-dating bargain?”

“Hell yeah, you did,” I say. “I’m not the same person I was when I arrived. Truthfully, I don’t know how I’ll transition back to my life.”

“You’ll figure it out,” she says. “You know why?”

I shake my head .

“Because what’s meant to be always has a way of working itself out.”

“You believe that?” I ask.

“Yep,” she says. “Think about the things in your life that have worked out. For me, I didn’t have to force anything because it fell into place.

That’s how relationships should be too. Try because you want to and because you care, not because you have to.

Pour your energy into what matters. It’s impossible to force a square peg into a round hole. ”

I smile. “I’m so damn lucky to have met you.”

“I feel the same,” she confesses. “You know, the Nicolas Banks they talk about on the internet and the one eating breakfast in my bed aren’t the same.”

This makes me laugh. “I’m aware.”

“I’m glad,” she says. “Not sure I’d like that asshole very much.”

“Oh, I’m still that asshole, but you make me soft.”

“Aw,” she says. “That’s kind of adorable though.”

We finish eating and talk about anything and everything. It feels nice to be with her. I imagine this is what she meant when she said she wanted lazy days with someone.

“Don’t forget, tonight I have to do inventory at the coffee shop,” she says, stacking the plates on the tray, then moving it to the bedside table.

“You don’t have to,” I tell her.

She grins. “I want to. I miss being at work. Not being able to help makes me feel guilty because it’s the busiest time of the year. It’s similar to being one of Santa’s elves and not working during December.”

I turn to her. “I understand, but your safety is more important. Speaking of, today I’d like it if you filed a temporary restraining order on Craig,” I say, catching her hand and kissing her palm.

“Okay,” she tells me. I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “I was hoping he would calm down.”

“But he hasn’t, and after speaking with Sarah, I don’t think he will. Once Craig’s served papers, he will know to leave you alone. No more games, Julie. I worry about you, and I can’t follow you around everywhere.”

“Are you sure you can’t? I enjoy having you around all the time.” She playfully bumps my shoulder.

I take a sip of coffee. “I love it and wish I could, but I also want you to be protected. If something happened to you …”

She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Nothing will happen, Nick. We’ll go today, even if it’s just for peace of mind.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as she leans over and kisses me.

I meet her eyes, knowing I’ve never made it past thirty days with anyone. And maybe it’s because with Julie, it’s different. It’s comfortable without the normal pressures. I’m not counting down the seconds, waiting for when it’s over. I watch the clock because I never want it to end.

With anyone else, I’d be halfway to Europe, giving excuses about needing space or time to figure things out. Instead, I’m pulling her down for a kiss, wondering how I ever lived without her.

“Are you ready for the real celebration?” she asks against my lips.

“Breakfast wasn’t it?”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “This was just the appetizer.”

Before I can move, she’s straddling me again, pulling her T-shirt over her head.

“Thirty-one days deserves a proper celebration, don’t you think?” she whispers .

“Hell yes.”

The courthouse smells like old paper and disappointment.

“Reason for requesting order?” she reads aloud, then pauses, pen hovering over the small box. She takes a deep breath and begins writing.

Julie fills out form after form, and I watch her hand cramp as she writes, detailing every incident—from the constant texts to the festival confrontation to Sarah admitting he drove by her condo at night.

I can see some of the words from where I sit. Harassment , unwanted contact , and stalking her are just a few things she’s scribbled down. Her handwriting gets shakier with each sentence.

Once she’s signed her name at the bottom, she returns to the clerk with her head held high. The woman—probably in her late fifties and with kind eyes behind thick glasses—reviews everything.

“What are the odds of this going through?” Julie asks, fingers tapping on the counter.

The clerk looks up at her. “Honey, with what you’ve documented here, it’s enough for a temporary order. He’ll be served within forty-eight hours. After that, if he does this again, it’s considered a violation.”

“And then what happens?” Julie’s voice is just above a whisper.

“Then he can be arrested.”

Julie nods, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”

“You’re doing the right thing,” the clerk adds. “I know this is uncomfortable, but too many women wait until it’s too late, and something terrible happens to them. You have to protect yourself where you can.”

Julie flinches, and I step forward, placing my hand on her waist, needing to be close to her.

As we walk out, I wrap my arm around her, feeling her lean into me. The October sun is bright, and it makes her squint.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I hate that it came to this,” she mutters. “I just wanted Craig to move on. To be happy with Sarah, have his baby, live his life. He moved away, and I thought he would be gone forever. None of this should’ve happened.”

“I do understand him not wanting to let you go,” I tell her, tilting her chin up to meet my eyes. “But he has to. It’s become an obsession, Jules. Driving by your house, keeping your photos, calling Sarah by your name … that is not normal behavior.”

“And what happens if he doesn’t respect this?” She waves the copy of the order. “Will they actually do something?”

I don’t answer because I don’t know. Restraining orders work if the person respects them. And Craig has already shown he doesn’t care about boundaries.

“Come on,” I say, leading her to the Range Rover, needing to change the subject. “Want to get lunch?”

“Hmm …” She looks up at me with those green eyes, still glassy with unshed tears. “Can we just go home?”

The word home does something to me.

She continues, “I want to spend the rest of my free time with you today. Just us. No wandering eyes or whispers.”

“Whatever you want, Little Red.”

When we return to her condo, Julie kicks off her shoes and collapses on the couch. “Want to be a potato with me?”

“Hell yeah,” I say, joining her.

I position myself behind her body, holding her as she flicks on the TV. Her phone buzzes, and she pulls it from her pocket.

Autumn

Just checking in. How are things?

Blaire

Yeah, let us know !

She texts the group chat, named the Sanderson Sisters, which includes the three of them.

Julie

I’m surviving!

She records a voice memo to catch them up. Their responses come fast, and it’s all supportive messages. Autumn even threatens to deal with Craig herself if he violates the order.

Then she texts her mom and updates her too.

Mom

Oh, sweetheart. Good for you.

Julie

You’re not upset?

Mom

Upset? I’m relieved! Your father and I have been worried sick about his behavior. It’s unacceptable. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. How are you and Nick?

She turns her head toward me, smiling. “My parents adore you.”

I snuggle into her neck, kissing the softness of her skin. “I adore them.”

Julie

We’re great!

Mom

I like him. Seems as if you two really hit it off.

Julie

Thanks, Mom!

Mom

I’m serious. I’ve never seen you so happy. Hope you’re having the best time.

Julie

I am. It’s been incredible.