Just the Way You Are: a heartwarming wonderful romance perfect for fans of Holly Martin

By Aimee Brown

True love should last a lifetime, but how do you know if you've met your soulmate?

Ambri and Henry have been best friends forever. They've been through the highs and lows of life with each other by their sides. Together, they can face it all. Until one night destroys everything.

Two years after he stepped out of it, Henry walks back into Ambri's life and she's more than a little shocked. But as old friends fall into even older habits they need to decide whether they can forget the past and embrace their future.

Perfect for fans of Lindsey Kelk, Mhairi McFarlane and Anna Bell. Previously published as The Last Dance.

***

Praise for Just the Way You Are:

'Perfect for a hopeless romantic, Ambri and Henry's story feels real, and honest, and it was incredibly easy to get utterly lost in – completely un-put-downable!' Hannah Brown

'The book is just perfect!' NetGalley Reviewer

'The Last Dance has me crying and laughing and just feeling good' Phyliss Hasen

'I adored this book' Emma Lewis

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Apr 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781788547260

Aimee Brown

Aimee Brown is the bestselling romantic comedy author of several books including The Lucky Dress. She’s an Oregon native, now living in a tiny town in cold Montana and sets her books in Portland. Her series with Boldwood is full of love and laughter and real-life issues.

Book preview

Part One

Nearly Two Years Ago

1

Tickets For Two

Ambri

I glance over the line of people behind the counter in front of me when the door dings open. Henry smiles, displaying the tickets with a goofy grin. He got them. Just last week he swore he couldn’t get any because the show was completely sold out and had been for weeks. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always been able to somehow pull off the impossible.

‘Are you sure you two aren’t into each other?’ Jenna, my co-worker, asks with a coy smile.

I roll my eyes. ‘We’re just friends.’ I watch him take a position at the back of the line, making small talk with the elderly woman in front of him.

Henry and I are friends. Just friends. Like I keep telling her over and over. We’ve been best friends since the day we met during my freshman year of high school. It was about as anti-romantic as things could get right from the start.

It was the third day of school and I was a little on the mouthy side that day because I had gotten my very first period. Ah… PMS. I was on the late bloomer side of life, still am, actually. I had just walked through the front doors when I saw it.

*

‘Come on, shy girl, you’re cute, I’m cuter, and I think you’d fit perfectly in the back seat of my car.’ Jasen, a guy whose name is the only thing I know about him, is harassing a fellow freshman classmate.

‘I don’t think so,’ she says quietly, obviously uncomfortable but clearly trying not to make a scene. Jasen’s leaning into her, his hand resting on the wall behind her, above her head.

‘You don’t want to be known as the prude girl, do ya?’

I can’t even believe what I’m hearing, and that people are actually walking around this douchebag as he does it.

‘Hey, asshole Romeo!’ I yell at him. He turns towards me, somehow knowing I was addressing him. ‘She said no, that’s your cue to walk away.’ When he takes a step towards me she speeds away from him, never even looking back.

‘Oh yeah, shorty?’ He walks towards me, a perverted grin on his face. ‘How about you and me, then? I like them feisty – they’re better in bed that way.’

‘Ughh…’ I act like I’m going to vomit, rolling my eyes so hard it hurts. ‘Yuk. How about never ever in a million years? I don’t date dickheads.’ I haven’t dated anyone up to this point so that statement is sadly far too true.

I see him walk up out of the corner of my eye. Henry Decker. I know who he is just like I know who Jasen is; they are in the popular crowd. Everyone knows who they are. Of course, Jasen is popular for being a dick and Henry is pretty much the exact opposite of that. They are both a couple years older than me, and our crowds don’t exactly intermingle. Not that I am even a part of a crowd. I’m more of the ‘leave me alone’ kind of girl than the cliquish kind.

Anyway, Henry stops to my right as the word ‘dickheads’ leaves my lips.

‘I think you heard her,’ he says to Jasen. ‘Now would be your time to leave.’ Henry shoves him away from me, Jasen not arguing even a little bit. Henry turns to me once Jasen is well on his way to wherever he should have been going in the first place. ‘I think asshole Romeo is a great nickname for him.’

I nod, completely in agreement. ‘I know it’s what I’m gonna call him from here on out.’ I shrug. ‘If you ask me, the best nicknames are the ones people don’t know they have.’ I turn to walk away, Henry quickly following and walking alongside of me.

‘Do you have a nickname for me I don’t know about?’

I stop, turning towards him shaking my head. ‘Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.’

He laughs. ‘I look forward to that. Until then, what should I call you?’

‘Just Ambri,’ I say, turning to walk away from him, heading for my first class.

‘OK, then, JustAmbri. I’ll be waiting on that nickname so don’t be a stranger!’ he calls after me. When I glance back he’s still watching me, standing in the middle of the hall, a goofy smile on his face and a finger pointed in my direction as the halls bleed with people making their way around him to their first class.

*

Looking back on it, I can’t believe he even spoke to me, a bitchy, cursing, PMSing fourteen-year-old girl, already tired of most of humanity at such a young age. But somehow, that was that. We were friends from that moment on.

‘I wish I had a friend that would go out of his way to find me tickets to a sold-out show,’ Jenna says as she hands a woman her coffee.

‘He didn’t go out of his way.’ I shake my head, writing the name of the customer in front of me, Violet, on an empty cup and handing it to Jenna. ‘They fell into his lap.’

‘Right, fell into his lap.’ She laughs, the whir of the espresso machine finally overpowering her words.

I admit that I might have mentioned to Henry that I wanted to go to the Infusion show a time or ten. I have every time they’ve played in Portland for the last decade. I also knew good and well that the tickets were sold out. I honestly didn’t think he would even attempt to find tickets. They’re a great band – my favorite, actually – but according to Henry, they aren’t exactly twelve times live great. I’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.

Secretly, I was hoping he would pull through somehow. When he called me last night to tell me he just happened to have a client with tickets they could no longer use, I tried my best not to squeal into the phone. I didn’t succeed but I think we both knew it could have been worse.

‘Since you don’t want him, can I have him?’ Jenna asks when the espresso machine quiets again.

‘No…’ I answer with a roll of my eyes. ‘Trust me, for the thousandth time when I say that Henry is a broken man. He’s got demons he can’t always silence.’

That’s not even a lie. He’s not dark and demented or anything. Quite the opposite really. The last couple years though, they’ve changed him in a way I didn’t even realize was possible. He’s still the same Henry I’ve been friends with for years, most of the time. But other times, he’s depressed, really depressed, which isn’t something I’ve ever witnessed in him before now.

Unfortunately, I get where he’s coming from. I’ve struggled with everything too. For me the hardest part was watching her go. Her being my sister, Rory. She died last year, almost a year ago exactly, on my birthday. Yeah, my birthday hasn’t been the same since. She was the perfect older sister even though we were complete opposites in everything from personality to looks. She was three years older than me and only twenty-seven when she took her last breath.

Henry and I had been friends for years before they started dating five years ago. Including the year she was sick, they dated for four years. This month she’s been gone a year. One of the longest years of my life. She was exactly his type: blonde, successful, social, and sweet. She was a year older than him, but you’d never have known it. Henry’s always been one of those old souls. As if he’s lived life before and was good at it even then.

He and I are so close that he actually asked my permission before even asking her out. Had I known what her passing would do to him, I’d have said no that day. And yes, I know that’s selfish and there is absolutely nothing wrong with Henry as he is right now but I sometimes miss my best friend from before.

He’s always been the strongest and bravest person I know and was even while she spent months in the hospital. If she was in the room, he was everyone’s rock. Including my own. After she died his ability to deal with everything as he had been able to was gone. Like a light switch flipped off and he was done. Neither of us were ready for her to go and it’s really left us both stumbling through life trying to find a new normal.

Every day when I meet up with him for coffee before we go to work, I hope and pray that I’m not walking in to meet the Henry that I can’t seem to console. The one who can’t seem to see past what he’s lost. Not because I don’t still adore him when he’s like that, but it hurts so much to see him that way. Those days are getting fewer and farther between as time goes by, but they’re not completely gone. I’m starting to wonder if they ever will be.

Through it all, we’ve become even closer than we were before. He’s there any time I need him and vice versa. Whether it be the middle of the night or the middle of the day. Anytime one of us needs something, without fail we go to one another.

As destructive as it is, death seems to bond people in a way nothing else can. He’s become so much more than my best friend over the last year. As Meredith said to Cristina in Grey’s Anatomy, he’s my person. He’s just not my romantic person.

Jenna and I work our way through a few more customers before the elderly woman, who is now at Henry’s side, walks up to the counter.

‘Ladies…’ He grins. ‘I’d like to buy Florence’s coffee today. Go ahead, Florence.’ Henry winks over at her and even though she’s got to be at least eighty-five years old, she giggles like she’s sixteen and smitten.

‘I like my coffee like I like my men… strong.’ She bats her eyes at him, gently touching his biceps and giggling.

He’s not exactly ripped, but he’s not scrawny either. He’s just… normal. Your average guy that could turn every woman’s head that passes him.

She turns away from us when Jenna starts pouring her coffee, thanking Henry for his kindness and planting a kiss on his cheek, leaving maroon lip prints as evidence that he can swoon even the elderly.

‘My pleasure, Florence. You have a good day today.’ He grins as she walks away from him towards an empty table, waiting for her strong coffee.

‘Such a ladies’ man.’ I laugh.

‘Hardly.’ He laughs with a shake of his head.

‘Your coffee is on me. It’s the least I can do since you’ve once again somehow pulled off the impossible.’

‘I’d like him to be on me,’ Jenna says in a whisper hopefully only I can hear. I shoot her a glare.

‘I guess you do owe me.’ He winks.

‘Anything you want.’

‘Anything?’ Jenna asks me under her breath from her spot in front of the espresso machine, a coy smile on her face.

STOP, I mouth to her.

‘I’ll bring it over to you,’ I say to Henry as I grab a cup from the stack, writing his name on it and setting it on the counter in front of Jenna.

‘How are you not in love with him? I mean, look at poor Florence.’ We both glance over at her; she’s still staring his direction. ‘She’s gonna be dreaming of him the next time she—’

‘Don’t finish that sentence!’ I stop her with a laugh.

She rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll have you know that any guy I’ve ever considered my BFF…’ she uses air quotes around BFF ‘… was only telling me what I wanted to hear until he could sweet-talk me right out of my panties. He’s into you. I guarantee it. You might have put him in the friend zone a long time ago, but I bet that’s not the zone he wanted to land in.’ She puts a lid on Florence’s coffee.

‘I’m pretty sure if that was the case he’d have said something before now, eleven years later. Plus, you’re forgetting one very important detail… he was married to my sister.’

‘For like a week…’

I take Florence’s coffee from Jenna with a frown. Being married a week counts. Especially considering it was the week before she died. It was her dying wish, to marry the love of her life, my best friend.

I can’t have feelings for him; it’s against the rules. I’m not sure exactly which rulebook I’m following but me and Henry, romantically involved, feels like crossing some kind of invisible line in the sand. I’m sure he feels exactly the same way. Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s never considered it at all because I doubt he’s ever even looked at me that way.

I glance over at him as Jenna makes his coffee. He’s standing near a table staring at the phone in his hands.

‘He’s gorgeous, smart, successful, and he buys old ladies coffee for no reason other than that he’s genuinely nice. He’s the perfect catch,’ Jenna says as she works.

He is all those things and right now I really wish she were wrong about that. I know I said I’ve never had a romantic feeling for Henry and that is mostly true. But there are times when my mind wanders and I wonder what he and I might be like. I mean, come on, I’m not blind, I see how gorgeous he is. Sometimes I daydream and from time to time he even pops into those daydreams when I least expect it. Never have I asked him to leave. Judge me if you must.

He isn’t the kind of guy I normally date, apparently because he has a solid job and isn’t addicted to his PlayStation and if I’m going by my history in men those two things don’t seem to be deal-breakers, but there is something about him that sometimes does it for me. Most of my daydreaming moments usually start with something dumb like seeing him do something incredibly nice for someone, like a random act of kindness that he insists he doesn’t want people to know he does because that defeats the purpose.

He’s got a good heart. AlwaysDoTheRightThingHenry. That was the nickname I came up with for him at school that day we met. He did the right thing, standing up for a girl he didn’t know, even though I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Even back then he was the voice of reason between him and his not so female best friend, Ben. Always making sure they were doing the right thing. He’s lived up to it ever since.

‘I’ll bring this out to Florence.’ I walk around the counter, carrying her strong coffee in a to-go cup.

Then there’s me, AlwaysDatesTheWrongGuyAmbri. It’s not my official title but it fits. I can’t say the men I date have ever done what Henry just did that I know of. In fact, sometimes it’s a challenge to even get them to buy my coffee. The guys I date lately seem to think a meal at one of the food trucks I’m obsessed with is enough to woo me right out of my panties. If I’m honest, my romance bar seems to be set pretty low so the whole food-truck thing works more often than I’d like to admit.

I walk back to the counter as Florence waves goodbye to Henry.

‘Here ya go… one tall, dark haired, tanned, sweet, sexy, and mesmerizingly handsome coffee for the guy who’s just your friend.’ Jenna scribbles a couple hearts under his name before handing me the cup. ‘Look at him…’ She stares across the room at him. His back is still to us and he’s still standing near the table we normally sit at when he comes in. Yes, we’re completely juvenile and have a preferred table, as we did in the cafeteria while we were in high school. ‘He’s just so cute! That ass too… Yum. I wanna bite it.’ She chomps her teeth together.

I stifle back a laugh. ‘You’re killing me.’ I turn away from her with a roll of my eyes. She can be a little over the top, but she does make a long day more fun.

I walk the coffee over to Henry, setting it on the table as I sit down. He waits to finally sit until I do. Another moment to add to the daydream list. Chivalry isn’t dead when he’s around, that’s for sure.

‘Thanks,’ he says, suddenly noticing the hearts under his name as he picks up the cup off the table. ‘That’s new…’ He raises a single eyebrow, staring across the table at me as if I did it.

‘Jenna.’ I nod her direction and roll my eyes. ‘Be glad it’s not some kind of pornographic sketch.’ I shrug with a laugh. ‘You know she’s as in love with you as Florence now is.’ I point to his cheek where the lip prints still sit. ‘You’re like some kind of woman whisperer.’

He laughs, glancing at Jenna, who bites the air in his direction. I gasp in horror as he scrunches his face into an awkward and clearly uncomfortable smile, quickly turning back to me. ‘She’s kinda weird.’

‘You’re telling me.’ I laugh. ‘She hasn’t had sex in like six months, so you should be glad she hasn’t thrown you down on the counter yet.’

He shakes his head, his face still scrunched. ‘Way too much info about your fellow barista.’ He slides the tickets across the table to me. ‘Here they are.’

‘I can’t believe you got these.’ I count them and frown. ‘Only two?’

He nods. ‘Sorry, Ben and Claire will have to sit this one out. I’m sure they’d meet us after for a drink?’

‘Sounds perfect!’ I grin, excitedly. ‘Wanna meet there? I should probably go home and change after work.’

He looks me up and down, his eyes narrowed as he points to my outfit with a pinched smile on his face. ‘So, then this outfit… is specifically for lounging around my apartment as you hold my remote hostage?’

‘Haha, no. This outfit is reserved for when I wait to get out of bed until fifteen minutes before my shift and need to get dressed with my eyes closed. You can’t go wrong with all black.’

I literally wear the same thing to work almost daily. Black jeans and black T-shirt. Because I hate mornings and laundry and it’s so much easier to buy all black, so I can grab whatever I want while I’m half asleep and not end up looking like I did exactly that.

‘Girls and their outfits. Whatever you have to do, I’m good with. I’ll meet you there at eight? Just outside the main entrance.’

‘Sounds good,’ I say as he stands from the table.

‘I should get back to work. Thanks for this.’ He holds up his coffee. ‘Oh, hey…’ he stops after only taking a step from the table ‘… did you apply for that job?’

That job. A few weeks ago, I finally earned enough credits to graduate with my Bachelor’s in communication and journalism. I was one of those high-school graduates who couldn’t wait to be on my own and moved out the day I turned eighteen. Not because I hated my parents or anything, I just couldn’t wait to be an adult. It didn’t take me very long to realize that being an adult isn’t exactly as awesome as I had expected. Bills, working, feeding yourself, that’s all a lot harder than it seems. Because of my desire to be an adult long before I was really ready, I struggled through college taking a class here and there when I had the time and could afford it. Starbucks was never meant to be my permanent job in life, but considering college has taken me almost seven years, I’ve been here a lot longer than I thought I would be. For the first two years of school I didn’t even know what I wanted to major in. I finally chose journalism. Now, I’ve done it, years after all my friends, and my Bachelor’s degree certificate is in the mail. Naturally the next step would be to finally get a job doing what I’ve studied for so long.

I force a weird smile. ‘Um…’

I haven’t applied yet. I’ve been staring at the job listing for a week. It doesn’t close for a few more days so I’ve still got time to convince myself that I could even get this job for a popular local website writing restaurant reviews and news. I know I’d be good at it, because I write these reviews in my own head for every restaurant I go to. I need to talk myself into believing I could do it for more than just myself.

‘Ambri, you’re such a talented writer. And you know I’m not only saying that because I’ve helped with your homework. At some point you’ll have to accept that you’re talented. Plus, it’s your dream job writing about food, your most favorite thing besides seeing Infusion live five thousand times like some kind of stalker.’ He laughs. ‘Apply for the job. Don’t talk yourself out of it.’

I sigh as I drop my head towards the floor a little ashamed of myself for being so pathetically insecure. ‘There you go, always pushing me to be a better person.’ I huff it out with a laugh because even though I pretend it annoys me, him always supporting me is part of what I love about him. If he didn’t push me to go for my dreams, who would? ‘Fine. I’ll apply tonight but I won’t hold my breath that they’ll actually interview me.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘I mean, come on, besides a degree, my only résumé filler is this.’ I motion to the room around me.

‘Everyone starts somewhere.’

‘You know, someday I’m gonna finally grow up and get my shit together and you’ll have no one to motivate.’

‘Right.’ He laughs as he makes his way to the door. ‘Don’t do it.’ He shakes his head. ‘Don’t ever grow up, Ambri. You being all this is part of what I love about you.’

I grin like a loon as he says it, my insides doing a little flip.

Don’t do it, daydreamer me. Don’t focus on his using the word love. Now is not the time and that is not what he meant.

‘Also…’ he stops with the door partway opened, turning back to me ‘… don’t wear the stripper heels. I’m not carrying you home again.’ He winks, his ocean-blue eyes dancing in the overhead light as he laughs.

‘Got it,’ I say, the heat rushing to my cheeks as customers glance over at me, likely judging me by a single sentence. ‘Not a stripper, folks,’ I announce as he walks out the door, my hands in the air as if surrendering my personal life to a bunch of strangers. I make my way back to the counter with a laugh. ‘Not. A. Stripper.’

I only wore those heels one time, and trust me when I say I learned my lesson. Heels have no place at standing-room-only concerts. Now I know. And he didn’t carry me all the way home. It was more of a piggyback ride and it was only for a block after it started pouring down rain.

‘Something is definitely different between you two lately.’ Jenna is wiping down the counter when I get back to my station at the register. The after-lunch caffeine-withdrawal crowd has finally died down and we can relax and do the many other things required of us on our shifts. ‘You’re flirty with each other. And he said he loved you.’

‘Uh, that’s not at all what he said. Henry is not flirting with me, trust me. We started out as friends and we’ll stay friends. I’m pretty much the complete opposite of his type anyway. He goes for the girls who’ve got their shit together, and, let’s face it, that’s not me.’ I grab the rag from her hand and take over the cleaning.

His type is women like my sister. Five feet nine inches, perfect curves, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, totally fashionable, incredibly cool, and a degree in technology. I think that’s part of what attracted him to her in the first place. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was in a tech field like him. She seemed to have it all together.

Then there’s me. I’m not all that serious about most aspects of life; sometimes I’m as insecure as a teenager; I have a mouth like a sailor; I’m not even a little bit up on the newest fashion trends; I’m obsessed with food; I’m brunette, and I’m only five foot four. I’m average. I’m that more than average girl that does not get second glances and men falling over themselves to be around like my sister used to. I’m the polar opposite of his type.

Maybe that’s why we’ve been friends so long? Maybe I do have qualities he likes, obviously, I mean, we’ve been friends for over a decade, but there’s no attraction so any romance would be pointless. Just friends is our path in life.

‘Fine, you’re right. With the whole history you guys have together you two would probably be a complicated mess romantically. But, that doesn’t mean you can’t add him to your list of fantasies… I know I have.’ She giggles.

Way ahead of ya, Jenna. Way too freaking ahead of ya. I glare over at her playfully, hoping mind-reading is never ever a thing in the future. The chime of the door as a group of women walk through makes me thankful people don’t only drink coffee in the mornings. Customers mean we can’t continue talking about him and hopefully by the end of my shift, all will be forgotten.

*

He’s standing near the entrance as I make my way down the sidewalk. We don’t live far from the Crystal Ballroom concert venue so it’s easier to walk than it would be to find a parking spot.

When he spots me, he glances down at his watch animatedly, before tossing his hands in the air with a laugh.

‘Sorry!’ I yell the half-block that still stands between us.

He’d never actually be mad that I’m late, but he’s definitely going to give me a hard time for it. That’s what we do.

‘It’s eight-fifteen and you live blocks from here. What were you doing?’ he asks as I cross the street.

‘I was getting dressed!’

He looks me up and down, a single eyebrow raised. ‘You look the same as you did earlier.’ He laughs.

I don’t. In fact, I’m