Page 46 of When Javi Dumped Mari

Mari

Now

“Welcome to Jeremy’s not-so-humble abode,” Javi says, standing back and ushering me inside.

I step over the threshold and gape at the ridiculously large space. “Oh wow…I hate him.”

Javi grins, his expression easygoing and his outfit—a black T-shirt and blue jeans—matching that vibe perfectly. “I felt the same way when I first saw it. He even has empty cabinets in the kitchen.”

“The bastard,” I say, my fingers splayed across my chest. “Two bedrooms?”

“Yeah, and two bathrooms.”

“Is he around?”

“Nah, he’s in Europe with his parents.”

“What an asshole,” I say, only half joking. Because seriously, this truly is too much square footage for one person. Reminds me of my dad’s house.

Javi laughs. “He’s a good guy, though, and he’s doing me a real solid by letting me stay here. It’s exactly what I needed.”

I don’t miss the way he scans me from head to toe. When he notices that I’m staring at him and likely witnessed his blatant perusal, he drops his gaze to the floor. “Can I, uh, get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” I say, dropping my purse on one of two sofa tables that span the length of a ginormous U-shaped sectional.

I circle the room, digesting Javi’s new workspace.

Four freestanding chalkboards are lined up against the wall opposite the sectional, and the dining table is littered with legal pads, crumpled paper, red markers, and pencils.

A keyboard on its own stand is positioned in front of a highbacked lounge chair. “So this is where the magic happens.”

“Or the chaos.”

“How’s it going?”

“Sometimes it’s going; other times I want to throw it all in the trash.”

I stand in front of one of the chalkboards. “What’s happening here?”

“I’m working through the structure of each of the acts.” He points at the chalkboard next to it. “Here’s where I keep notes on characters, try to flesh them out.” He taps the third with his index finger. “This is where I keep track of lyrics I want to build into whatever songs I write.”

“Will you do the music too?”

“No, not yet,” he says. “I’ll need to collaborate with a composer for that.”

“When will that happen?”

“It’s not a given that it will happen,” he says, stretching, then scrubbing a hand down his face.

“If there’s enough interest in what I’ve written, I might be able to convince someone to work with me on the music.

One of my friends who was in the musical theater department at Belmont, perhaps, if I can call in some favors.

Maybe just two or three songs. Enough to workshop it to potential backers and secure enough money to do the rest.”

I blow out a short breath. “That’s quite an undertaking.”

“It is.”

“And you’re doing it.”

“I am,” he says softly, his gaze piercing mine. “Thanks to you.”

“Me?” I ask, genuinely shocked. “How so?”

“You encouraged me. Convinced me to set my pride aside and accept Jeremy’s help. Made me realize I wasn’t focused on finishing, because I was too scared. A wise person once said I was getting in my own way.”

I remember the moment as well as he does. “That was when you decided to finish the musical?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m honored to have played a small role in your decision to finally finish your magnum opus.”

“You didn’t play a small role. You were the reason I decided to finish.”

I shiver at the intensity of his expression. What is he saying? That he finished the musical for me?

I’m in desperate need of a pithy response to cut the tension, but my brain has turned to mush; thankfully, it senses my panic and kick-starts my memory.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” I sprint to my purse as if whatever’s in it will save my life.

I dig inside and pull out the envelope. Returning to Javi, I hand it to him.

“Here,” I say, as he opens the flap. “It’s a belated invitation.

To a party my dad’s throwing in honor of my wedding.

” His head whips up, and his face goes blank.

I’ve never understood the idea that someone can look right through you, but I get it now, and it’s not a great experience.

“My and Alex’s wedding, I mean,” I say, unable to keep myself from making it even more awkward than it already is. I roll my eyes. “Still getting used to thinking of us as a pair.”

“Hmm” is all he says as he glances at the linen cardstock.

“Will you come?” I ask hopefully. “It’s next Saturday. Most of the people attending will be colleagues who weren’t invited to the wedding because we’re trying to keep it intimate, and since you’re in the city for a bit, I figured you might want to get out of Jeremy’s house.”

“Of course I’ll be there,” he says, his mouth curving into a wide smile. “How else am I going to do my due diligence where Alex is concerned?”

“Oh God,” I say, throwing my head back. “You’re not still on that, are you?”

He shoves his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Listen, until the wedding happens, I’m going to put that man through his paces.”

“Knock yourself out, Javi, but you’re wasting your time.”

“If I’m spending my time ensuring your happiness, it could never be wasted.”

“You know, sometimes you talk like a hero in a romance novel.”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t know what that means. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no,” I say. “It’s just…a thing I’ve noticed.”

“What else do romance heroes say?” he asks, his expression equal parts intrigued and baffled.

“?‘My heart stopped the first moment I saw you.’?”

“Guys talk like that?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, they also say things like ‘You’re so wet…and tight.’?”

As soon as the unfiltered words escape me, I remember that Javi isn’t Sasha or Chloe or Brittany, and we shouldn’t be talking about wetness or tightness at all.

“That makes sense,” Javi says, tipping his head from side to side. “Telling someone they’re dry and loose would probably kill the mood.”

I snort and turn away. “On that note, I’m going to leave you to your work. I don’t want your ideas to dry up.”

He gives me an adorable pout. “But I thought we could have lunch. I can call something in. I’m on a first-name basis with the dim sum place down the block.”

“Maybe some other time,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I need to get to the office.”

He scrunches his face. “On a Saturday?”

“Well, yeah. I’m going to be taking several days off for the wedding, so I need to make up for it somehow.”

I’m already walking to the door when he says, “It doesn’t count as time off if you need to replace it.”

I wave away his comment. “Bye, Javi, I’ll see you next Saturday. Promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.” When he says nothing in response, I turn back, my hand on the doorknob. “Promise.”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, Mari, I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

“Ooh. Gauntlet. Thrown.”

It’s cute that Javi is operating as if our pact is still in place, but there’s no way he’s going to change my mind about marrying Alex. No way at all.