chapter 25
[Jude]
The entire way home, I stew.
What are we doing? she’d asked. I thought we were getting to know each other better. Building on whatever this strange connection is between us.
Hell, hours earlier today, I practically asked her to marry me. When I don’t trust the institution. My experience has taught me to distrust marriage.
Does this feel like pretend? I’d asked her. Maybe we’d started out with that intention. The fake-date exchange. But something has shifted. Something I want to explore, and yet somehow, I’ve misread the situation.
An audiobook narrator is fictional. An actor goes through motions. But the softness of her pleas? My name on her lips which drove me wild? Her body’s response to my touch was not an act.
She said she wasn’t my type, but she was wrong. She is exactly what I need. Who I want.
As for me being her type, maybe she wasn’t wrong there, but how can I prove to her that I want to be? I want to be someone she’s proud of and excited about. Someone she wants to see again and again.
Even though she mentioned attending her brother’s wedding, she didn’t sound convinced my attendance was what she really wanted. This was no longer about a square deal. This was about feeling something. Something strong and overwhelming and unfamiliar, but something I wanted to embrace.
Slamming my hand on the steering wheel, I maneuver into the private parking garage of my building and make the silent climb in the elevator to my condo.
Once inside my place, the loneliness is almost too much.
It’s quiet compared to the chaos of Angelica’s grandmother’s kitchen.
It’s empty and hollow, like my heart feels right now.
I head to the shower, needing to wash off the scent of sugar and spice, and baking cookies.
I’m just stepping out of the shower when I hear a sharp rapping on my front door. Strange, considering the building is secure, and I don’t interact with my neighbors. Typically, I’d ignore the sound. Whomever is on the other side of the door will get the hint and go away.
But something draws me to my entryway. Maybe it’s the insistence of the knock. Maybe I’m just curious.
After peering through the security hole, I yank open the door and exhale a confused breath.
“Angelica?”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts.
“How did you get up here?” I glance into the hallway. She is familiar with where I live because of her first responder position. This building is an icon in Chicago, but getting up to my floor involves being buzzed up or being on a list.
She sheepishly shrugs. “I can be persuasive without being in retail.”
I’d smile at the joke if I weren’t still so confused. Instead, I open the door wider, inviting her in.
I don’t miss how her gaze leaps to my naked chest and the low-slung towel around my waist. My wet hair should confirm I’d been in the shower.
She enters my spacious living room, where the city is on display through the wall-to-wall windows. Pinpricks of light dot various buildings along Lake Shore Drive. The stars are out there somewhere over Lake Michigan. One of the reasons I love this place is the view of the water during daylight.
A butter-soft leather couch faces the windows, and Angelica stops behind it. I lean against the back. Spreading my hands wide, bracing them on the support, I cross my ankles and hang my head, waiting for her to speak. She came to me.
Don’t you leave me, Jude. The quiet command still makes no sense, but it is a reminder that I promised myself I’d turn over a new leaf. That leaf feels like an autumn one right now. Crunchy and brown, and crushed underneath someone’s foot.
And I shouldn’t have left her grandmother’s place the way I did.
“I wasn’t fair earlier.”
My head pops up and I watch as she licks her lips.
“The past few days have just been a lot. I’m not used to someone taking care of me like you did when I was sick. And then hanging out with my family was new, too. I meant what I said; they really adored you.”
But does she adore me?
She waves toward me, while her brows crease. “And this morning got a little intense. I’ve just been in my head.”
The laundry room and wedding plans.
“I never meant to imply you weren’t good enough as you are, Jude. Or even suggest you need to be a different person. You have changed. I’ve seen it.”
Has she? I turn my head, staring at a dark piece of art over a false mantel. The image is abstract and disturbing, like the artist was mad while creating it, and simply smeared the paint over the canvas. I instantly connected with it. Angry. Bitter. Spoiled.
But holding those negative feelings up as a shield has been exhausting.
“I do want to change.” I slowly turn my head back toward her. “I am changing.” Maybe the ways have been small. Maybe it’s more of a feeling than something physical. I can’t describe it, and I don’t want to try to quantify it for her.
This wasn’t about her. After the heart attack, I felt different. Felt something for the first time in a long time. Something strange, almost itchy, like I’m coming out of my skin most days, but when I am around her, everything feels right. Calmer. Peaceful.
Today had been a surprisingly great day. Her family was so . . . real. It had been fascinating to watch, to participate in their chaos, witness their love for each other. It made me both happy and envious. I want what they have.
“I’m not pretending with you,” I blurt. I’m through pretending. Holding back emotions. Struggling with feelings. Putting up an act.
“Okay.” She nods, rolling her lips inward like she has more to say but stopping herself.
Silence weaves between us before she asks, “Can I hug you now?”
I stiffen for a second, uncertain I’ve ever been asked. I hardly remember the last time someone willingly hugged me. Or I hugged someone back.
With a sharp nod, I invite her toward me, but keep my arms locked around my bare chest.
When Angelica steps closer to me, she gently pulls them apart. Because I don’t know what to do with them, I set my hands on the back of the couch again, fisting them on either side of my hips. For some reason, I’m sweating.
Angelica doesn’t falter.
My feet uncross like they have a will of their own and she steps between them, forcing my legs further apart as she settles into the cradle between them.
Her hands come to my chest first. Her touch is like a hot iron on my skin, branding me.
My heart races as she takes her time to skim up my pecs and around my shoulders.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she presses her body against mine, tightening her arms around my neck.
Her cheek meets my ear as she tips up on her toes to match my slightly seated height.
We awkwardly stand like this for a solid minute. The longest minute of my life, if I’m honest, and I inhale her sugar and spice scent. A loose hair of hers tickles my jaw.
When I sense her ready to pull away, I finally react. My arms wrap around her back, and I tug her tighter to me, feel her settle against my chest, like she’s melting into me. She shifts her head and smiles against my neck.
“That’s it, Jude,” she whispers near my ear, like when she was coaching me to ice skate.
I continue to hold her, feeling my shoulders start to relax, and my arms loosen from their stiffness. I hold firm, but not so awkwardly. Even my legs begin to mellow, releasing from their stiff stance, like beams holding up a building.
We stand like this another minute as Angelica cups the back of my head, and I slide my hand up to her nape. Slowly, I turn my face into the space between her throat and shoulder, inhaling and exhaling like the nurses taught me.
Only, my heart doesn’t stop racing.
When I feel Angelica pull back, I don’t want to let go, but I don’t want to force her to hold on longer than she desires.
Lowering my arms, I catch her hips as she leans back and slides her hands down my chest again. She watches the path her palms take. I watch as well, liking how her delicate fingers look against my skin. Loving the feel of them against my flesh.
“I’ve never seen you so casual,” she teases about my towel-only attire.
“You’ve seen me in my underwear. Doesn’t get any more laid-back than that.”
She chuckles. “You are a bit shameless.”
“But you like it.” Cautiously, I glance at her, meeting those soft, flaming eyes.
She gently plucks at a few chest hairs. “Yeah. I like it.”
The smile slowly forming on my lips feels strange, almost too large for my mouth, and I dig my teeth into my lower lip as if I can stop the unfurling spread.
But when Angelica smiles back, my grin is inevitable. Like a fool, I suddenly feel like I can’t stop smiling.
Angelica covers my hands on her hips with hers, and I expect her to push me away. Instead, she holds onto them and steps away from me.
“I’m tired, Jude. And it’s late.” She stands tall, but something in the set of her shoulders suggests she’s nervous. “And since we’ve already slept together . . .”
I arch a brow, prepared to make a joke, but the flickering gleam in her eyes stops me. Without another word, she tugs at my hands and takes another step backward, urging me to rise, and follow her.
She helps herself down my hallway, as if she knows where she’s going, as if she’s been here a thousand times before.
With her confidence shored up, she spins to face the last door of the long hallway and leads me into my bedroom.