I opened my mouth, ready to defend myself, but the lie wouldn’t come out.

Sundays were library days.

Days of echoed silence and old ink and yellow paper. Of munching on sweets and stealing glances at eager, young students, reading and writing away their future, one word at a time.

Today, Dad had practically pushed me out the door. He’d made some excuse about me getting some Vitamin D, but it wasn’t even that sunny. Nonetheless, I figured he wanted time alone. The apartment was small. Besides, getting some me-time to think wasn’t the worst idea I’d had. I also needed to read more about the Sudanese crisis. I’d felt a little unequipped and uninformed this week when we’d discussed it in one of our rundown meetings. Célian shot facts from his sleeve at a speed I could barely register. Not only did he have the general knowledge of Google, but he delivered it with the charisma and finesse of Winston Churchill. I’d wanted to curl up like a kitten under his desk at that moment and listen to him talk all day.

That sounded degrading, even in my head, but it didn’t make it any less true. Hell, at night, when I turned off the light and looked out my window, I imagined myself sucking him off as he wrote the latest newscast. The man’s mind was even sexier than his looks. He was an amazing sight to behold, in and out of the newsroom.

“It’ll be a long time before you stop thinking about my cock every time you masturbate at the end of a long workday under your cheap covers.”

God, I hated him.

And he was three-carat engaged.

I settled into a chair and chewed into a retro foam mix of sunny side ups and banana-shaped candy, flipping pages. Two hours passed before my head finally lifted from the magazine I was reading. I could have stayed like that forever, but a shadow had darkened the glossy pages. I snapped the magazine shut and stared back at a stranger’s face.

“Hello.” His smile was lopsided. Lazy, but kind.

“Uh…hello.”

He looked familiar, yet somehow I knew I’d never met him before. If I had, I would remember. Tall. Attractive. With blond curls, deep-set blue eyes, and a tan that could only be the result of endless days in the sun. He looked to be a little older than me, maybe late twenties, and a whole lot sweet, with life-earned creases around his mouth and eyes. When he smiled, he did so with his entire face, and I found myself smiling, too.

“Sorry to interrupt, but…you snagged the last copy of The Times.” His grin was dimpled, like I knew it would be.

I stuttered an apology and handed him the paper, which I’d already read. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize unless it’s warranted. Besides, we seem to be sharing the same interests.” He glanced at my desk.

“Mine’s work.” I felt the need to explain, as if my usual hobbies consisted of being suspended in the air by nothing but nipple clamps and swimming with sharks.

“Mine too,” he beamed. “Where is work?”

“LBC.”

“The coincidences continue.” He wiggled his brows.

Hey, Jesus? Did you send me someone to get over my obsession with Célian Laurent?

“Girl, I’m not even talking to you after the last few weeks.”

“Really?” I cleared my throat, straightening in my seat.

I mean, he could be working for the website three floors up. But he seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t have an office job. He took the seat in front of mine, leaning forward and thumbing through the magazine I’d just dropped. “Yup. Just got back from a stint in Syria yesterday. I’m catching up on things now. And, of course, eating my body weight in Katz’s cheesesteak.”

I laughed. “That good?”

“You never had it before?” His eyebrows shot to his forehead. “We’ll need to rectify that as soon as possible, before you get your New Yorker card suspended.”

“I’m Jude.” I offered him my hand. He took it and kissed the inside of my palm—which was ten times more intimate than doing it the right way—and the butterflies I thought could only flutter for my boss stirred in my chest, stretching their wings, albeit lazily.

“Phoenix Townley.”

“Just like James Townl—” I started, before pulling my head back to examine him thoroughly. So that’s why he looked so familiar. His father was the anchor, or Mr. Numbers for the high ratings he scored every night. Now I was the one beaming, and it felt strange, but good. Like someone had unlocked a new setting for my face.

“I can see the resemblance. I like your dad a lot.”

“Ditto. Well, most of the time.” He reached for my candy bag without asking and bit a foam banana in half. “Another hour of fine reading and then a trip across town for that cheesesteak?”

It was scary, the way I accepted the invitation with little to no additional thought. Jude Humphry was a calculated girl. She’d been shaped and molded through the heartache of knowing how unpredictable life could be. I wasn’t planning on dating anyone anytime soon, especially after the entire Milton fiasco. Part of me didn’t even know if I should. If I wasn’t going to fall in love, was there really a point in trying?

But Phoenix was nice, and he seemed to be easygoing and fun. He would make a good friend. And, not only was I single, but the man I pined after was engaged—full-blown about to marry someone else. Not to mention, he was into an open, uncommitted relationship, and I wanted more. I needed more. Maybe Phoenix Townley was exactly what the doctor ordered. Maybe he would rise from the ashes of my love life and defy my mother’s curse.