Chapter Fifteen
Julien
My office was my sanctuary.
Minimalist. Organized. Everything in its place. My desk faced the window, natural light, optimal for concentration. My diplomas were arranged in perfect chronological order on the left wall. My bookshelf was organized by subject, then alphabetically by author.
Even my pens were sorted by color in a custom organizer.
It was the one place in the world where I had complete control.
Or it had been.
Until I’d made the catastrophic mistake of bringing Athena inside.
“Oh my Goddess, Julien, this office is so you,” she said the moment I closed the door behind us.
“I mean, look at this. Everything is so precise and organized and there’s this energy in here that’s just...
it’s very structured, very controlled, but also there’s this underlying current of something else, something deeper, like you’ve built all these walls, but the foundation is actually—”
“Athena.”
“And your desk! It’s facing the window, which is perfect for natural light and also for contemplation, and I read once that the direction your desk faces can affect your productivity and your connection to the universe, and I think yours is facing...
let me think... east? Or maybe northeast?
Which would make sense because that’s the direction of new beginnings and intellectual pursuits, and you’re a neurosurgeon, so obviously your intellect is—”
“Athena, I need—”
“And these diplomas! Oh my Goddess, you have so many diplomas. Yale, Johns Hopkins, Harvard. Julien, you went to Harvard? That’s incredible.
I mean, I knew you were smart, obviously.
You’re a neurosurgeon, but seeing it all here on the wall, it’s just...
it’s very impressive. Very you. Very precise and accomplished. ”
“Athena—”
“And is that a plant?” She’d spotted the small succulent on my windowsill.
A gift from Vivian that I had been too polite to throw away.
“You have a plant! That’s so sweet. I didn’t think you’d be a plant person, but succulents are very low-maintenance, which makes sense for your lifestyle, and they’re also very grounding, very Earth energy, which you probably need given how much you live in your head—”
“Athena, please.”
“And your bookshelf! Can I look at your books? I promise I’ll put them back exactly where they were. Oh, you have Gray’s Anatomy... the medical one, not the TV show, obviously, and all these neurology textbooks, and... wait, is that The Alchemist? Julien, do you read Paulo Coelho? That’s so—”
“I need you to stop talking.”
My words came out sharper than I had intended.
She turned to look at me, her eyes wide and bright, and there was no hurt in them, just curiosity, just warmth, just that infuriating certainty that everything was exactly as it should be.
“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “I know I ramble when I’m excited. It’s just... your office is amazing, and you’re amazing, and I’m just so happy to be here with you, and—”
“Athena.” I closed my eyes and counted to five. “I need five minutes. Just five minutes of silence. Can you give me that?”
“Of course!” She nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Five minutes of silence. I can do that. I’m very good at being quiet when I need to be. Well, not very good, but I can try, and—”
“That’s not silence.”
“Right. Sorry. Starting now.” She mimed zipping her lips.
I took a deep breath.
Okay. Five minutes. I can work with five minutes.
I need to think. I need to plan. I need to figure out how to—
“Your energy is very tense right now,” Athena said.
“That’s not silence.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I can feel it and I just want you to know that it’s okay to be stressed, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed, and if you need to talk about it.”
“I don’t need to talk about it. I need to think about it. Alone. In silence.”
“But you’re not alone. I’m here.”
“I’m aware.”
“And that’s good! Because you don’t have to handle everything by yourself anymore. You have me now. We’re a team. A partnership. A cosmic union of—”
“We are not a cosmic union.”
“We’re married.”
“We’re getting divorced.”
“Are we though?” She tilted her head, and there was something in her expression, something soft and knowing and absolutely certain, something that made my chest tighten. “Because it doesn’t feel like we’re getting divorced. It feels like we’re just... beginning.”
Don’t look at her.
Don’t look at her eyes.
Don’t!
I looked at her eyes.
Mistake.
She was looking at me like I hung the moon. Like I reached up into the cosmos and rearranged the stars just for her. Like I was something precious and important and worth believing in.
No one had ever looked at me like that.
Not even close.
“Julien,” she whispered, taking a step toward me.
“I know you’re scared. I know this isn’t what you planned.
I know your whole life is about control and precision and having everything exactly where it’s supposed to be.
But sometimes”—another step—“the best things in life are the things we don’t plan.
The things that surprise us. The things that break through all our carefully constructed walls and just—”
“Stop.”
“—make us feel something real—”
“Athena, stop.”
“—something true—”
“Stop talking.”
“—something like—”
I kissed her.
I didn’t plan it. Didn’t think about it. Didn’t weigh the pros and cons, or consider the consequences, or run through a mental checklist of reasons why this was a terrible idea.
I just... did it.
One second, I was standing there, my hands clenched at my sides, my jaw tight, my entire body wound so tightly I thought I might snap. The next, my hands were in her hair, and her back was against my bookshelf, and I was kissing her like she was oxygen and I had been drowning.
She made a small sound of surprise, and then she was kissing me back, her hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer, and she tasted like honey and hope and every reckless decision I had ever tried not to make.
This is insane.
This is a mistake.
This is... perfect.
Her fingers slid up to my neck, into my hair, and I heard myself make a sound that was definitely not professional, definitely not controlled, definitely not—
“WE BOTH LOSE, WINNIE!”
I jerked back.
Athena blinked up at me, dazed and flushed and beautiful.
In the doorway... because of course, of course he was, stood Fitz, his phone in his hand, his face split in the widest grin I had ever seen.
“HE’S ALREADY IN LOVE!” Fitz shouted into his phone, presumably to Winnie. “I SAID THREE MONTHS; YOU SAID SIX. BUT LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT HIS FACE! THE MAN IS GONE!”
“Get out,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“This is incredible,” Fitz continued, completely ignoring me. “I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, but this fast? Mate, you didn’t even make it twenty-four hours back in New Haven. That’s got to be some kind of record.”
“Fitz.”
“And against the bookshelf? Very romantic. Very ‘I’ve lost all control of my life.’ I’m proud of you.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re too busy being in love.” He grinned at Athena. “Hello, Mrs. Darcy. Enjoying your tour of the clinic?”
“It’s wonderful,” Athena said breathlessly, her lips still swollen from kissing me, her hair mussed from my hands. “Very educational.”
“I bet.” Fitz’s grin somehow got wider. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your... education. But just so you know, Julien... the whole clinic has money on this. There’s a pool. When you would fall for her, how long until you admitted it, whether you’d do something dramatic like kiss her at work.”
“There’s a pool?”
“Very active pool. Hayden’s got money on you making a grand romantic gesture within the month. Nathan thinks you’ll panic and try to run. Gabriel’s betting on a dramatic confession during surgery.”
“During surgery?”
“He’s an optimist.” Fitz shrugged. “Anyway, I’m off to collect my winnings. Or rather… to split the pot with Winnie since we both lost the timeline bet. But honestly? Worth it. This was better than I imagined.”
He started to leave, then paused, looking back at me with something that was almost... almost sincere.
“For what it’s worth, mate? I’m happy for you. You deserve this. You deserve her.” His eyes flicked to Athena, then back to me. “Don’t screw it up.”
Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence.
Athena and I stared at each other.
Her: flushed, disheveled, smiling like the sun had taken human form.
Me: horrified, aroused, and experiencing what could only be described as a complete psychological break.
“So,” she breathed. “That happened.”
“That happened,” I agreed.
“Your colleagues have a betting pool about us.”
“Apparently.”
“That’s kind of sweet.”
“That’s kind of invasive.”
“They care about you.”
“They’re enjoying my suffering.”
“Maybe both.” She reached up, gently smoothing down my hair where she’d mussed it. “You kissed me.”
“I’m aware.”
“You didn’t plan to kiss me.”
“No.”
“But you did it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked at her, really looked at her. At her ridiculous optimism and her cosmic certainty, and her absolute refusal to let me hide behind my walls. At the way she had somehow, in less than forty-eight hours, turned my entire carefully ordered life into beautiful chaos.
“Because,” I said quietly, “you wouldn’t stop talking.”
She laughed, bright and delighted and completely unrepentant.
“I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“I know.”
“I’m probably going to keep not stopping talking.”
“I know.”
“And I’m definitely going to keep showing up in places you don’t expect me.”
“I know.”
“And believing in the universe and cosmic connections and—”
I kissed her again.
Softer this time. Slower.
Not because I needed her to stop talking.
But because I wanted to.
When I pulled back, she was smiling.
“You’re going to do that a lot now, aren’t you?” she said.
“Probably.”
“Good.” She straightened my collar, her fingers gentle. “Because I really like it when you do.”
From outside my office, I heard voices, my colleagues, undoubtedly gathering to discuss the latest development in the ongoing disaster that was my life.
I should have been mortified.
I should have been planning damage control.
I should have been figuring out how to maintain my professional reputation after kissing my wife against my bookshelf while my best friend live-narrated it to the receptionist.
Instead, I just stood there, holding Athena, and thought:
Fitz is right.
I’m already in love with her.
God help me.