Chapter 36
Sometimes, bad things come for a reason.
That’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past two weeks.
I’m a lucky woman. Very, very lucky. And quitting my job was probably the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. Well, of course, I could’ve done it years ago, when I was younger and my life had still some joy in it.
But I guess things happen when they’re meant to happen.
And I know I’m starting to sound like a fortune cookie here, but hear me out for a second.
I’m broke. Totally and completely broke. Have you ever tried starting a business with a three-month savings cushion and nothing but five hundred dollars left in your account?
Well, neither have I. But here I am, digging out my old cameras and my journalism skills, using every last moment of my fourteen-day free trial of Adobe to create a logo for the channel.
Here I am, calling my cousin in Indiana who’s still in high school and likes to make videos with drones.
Here I am, asking favors from everyone I know, to be honest. And, surprisingly, I managed to get a fairly long list of athletes willing to meet me for an adventure whenever they’re in New York, considering I have exactly zero dollars to cover anyone’s travel expenses.
I bought used microphones and lighting kits on eBay, wrote scripts, planned calendars, and filled an entire notebook with notes and ideas for the project.
I created an Instagram account and listed various possibilities for catchphrases and video intros to ensure consistency.
I prepared, rehearsed, organized, and haven’t done anything else since I got back from Mexico.
I haven’t thought about Jasper for a single moment.
Well, that’s what I tell myself too, but we all know I’m lying.
I’ve thought about him in more ways than I’d like to admit, and in ways that could hardly be called healthy, but I was busy. It hurts much less when you’re busy.
Mila and Robbie returned to New York on the private jet with the family and caught their honeymoon flight to Indonesia. Tony and Cordelia drove to Tulum and got engaged that same night.
A photo with a diamond ring on her finger – the same ring I almost lost in a dirty bathroom of some gas station – and suddenly our group chat exploded with congratulations and side conversations, so it seemed like everyone had already forgotten all the chaos that happened at the wedding.
I just wanted someone to knock me on the head with a rock or whatever so I could forget too, but here I am, fully lucid, life upside down, only grateful for having no job and no money, because now I have a to-do list that takes over my time every day, making me go to bed exhausted and practically passing out immediately, without having to think about anything else.
Not about the mess in Mexico, not about the fact that Mila may be spoiled and controlling, but somehow is still the best friend in my world, because even I’m not sure I would’ve handled it as calmly if I were in her place. All the crying, the lies, the fights, the hospital visit, everything.
Oh, and I’m especially grateful to be too busy to think about it. Too busy not to tear myself apart with regret and guilt every single day for the past two weeks.
Two freaking weeks.
Time passed, life went on, everyone moved forward, and so did I. I haven’t suffered at all because of it.
So you can imagine my surprise when lunchtime comes, and I’m waiting for my Chinatown noodles, sixteen dollars short from my five-hundred-dollar reserve.
But hey, I’m basically eating one meal a day.
And then loading up on milk and cereal so I don’t have to spend on anything else. A girl’s gotta eat!
Anyway, imagine my surprise when I open the door, and instead of my delivery guy, I come face-to-face with Jasper Hassmann. And instead of screaming, saying something, or, I don’t know, laughing like a crazy person, the only thing I do is shove the door back, trying to slam it in his face.
Oh, no-no! Not you, sir!
Two weeks! Two weeks after I left the damn key in his room, and all I got in return was pure silence. Whatever he has to say at this point, I don’t want to hear it.
Unless someone died.
Shit! Did someone die?
I pull the door back instantly, eyes blazing, searching his.
“Who died?”
He blinks a few times.
“What?”
Right, no one died. Perfect! I start pushing the door again, but Jasper’s ready this time.
“Julie!” He calls out just as he notices what I’m doing, hand shooting toward the door gap to stop me from closing it completely, and now I’m scared of pushing harder and squashing his fingers.
The last thing I need right now is a lawsuit. I don’t have the money for that.
“What is it?”
His free hand slips into his suit pocket. And, speaking of which, why the hell does he have to be in a suit? Why does he have to look so stunning and elegant? And why do his suits always fit him so perfectly, making him look taller, stronger and totally manly?
God, I can’t even think!
Just being near him, I can’t think.
Then his hand comes out of the pocket holding something I immediately recognize. It’s silver, with white and orange, the fingers covering most of the rubber, but I’m sure there’s a slightly faded number 9 underneath them.
My stomach flips, my heart leaps, and my brain officially turns to mush.
“Where did you leave this?” he asks. And I feel like I’m supposed to reply, but I just stare at him, unable to say a word. Jasper doesn’t even blink as he shakes the keychain toward me, asking again, his voice firm, “Where did you leave this, Julie?”
“On your bed,” I answer, my voice is anything but steady.
“I didn’t see it,” Jasper says, but the words take a moment to make sense in my head.
I stay silent like an idiot.
He lets out a nervous laugh.
Jasper, nervous.
Nervous.
Jasper.
The world must really be upside down.
“I didn’t see it, Jules,” he repeats, his voice soft, tinged with regret but with a tiny spark of hope and a little smile. “My assistant showed me today, along with a box of very suspicious items left behind at the house and sent here by mail.”
Silence. Deep silence because I don’t know what to say.
I’ve spent the past two weeks fighting to hate him. Fighting to forget he exists. Hating myself completely for failing. I didn’t even come close.
Jasper takes a step forward. Just one. But it’s enough to make my breath hitch.
“You left,” he states, as if it’s entirely new information. As if I didn’t already know. “You left without telling anyone. You just disappeared, and when I went into your room and saw your things weren’t there, I…”
“You went into my room?” I ask, my voice cracking as I try to make it louder than his.
Jasper stops mid-sentence. Looks at the floor, then at me. And it’s as if the whole world disappeared. His dark eyes squinting, slightly confused, like he doesn’t understand what I’m asking.
“Of course I did,” he responds as if it’s obvious. Then he shrugs, a tiny corner of his mouth lifting as he says something not at all obvious, “And I also packed my bag in a rush, in the middle of the worst hangover ever, and ran to the airport to try to make it before your flight took off.”
He what?
“You what?”
“Well, I clearly wasn’t thinking straight. I could only think about how much you hated me and the terror of knowing that and doing nothing.”
“I don’t hate you, Jasper,” I say softly, with all the sincerity I have. “I tried. I failed spectacularly. Even when I spent all this time thinking you hated me.”
“That I hated you?” He laughs, in a mix of surprise and confusion. “Why on earth would you think I hated you?”
“Uh…” I pretend to think. “The fact that you spent the entire wedding looking like you wanted to drown in the Caribbean every time I came near you? And then I left the damn key on your bed, had to sneak into my house through the fire escape, and yet you didn’t…”
My voice fades, my argument losing steam.
He didn’t see the key.
He didn’t know about the key. And now he has one eyebrow slightly raised, his face reminding me of that as well.
“Jules…” Jasper says, and my name sounds soft on his lips.
It sounds like a song.
It sounds like the word he loves most in the world.
It sounds like Mimosas.
“I know exactly who I am. I’m a sarcastic, arrogant jerk. I enjoy creating chaos around me and have just enough integrity to function in society, but not a lot more. I’m stubborn, problematic, cynical, and I hate everything. I hate everything and everyone, but I love you.”
My eyes widen instantly.
“And that says so much more about you than it does about me, because… how could I not? You’re perfect,” Jasper continues, his eyes shining brighter than anything else in this world.
“And you deserve the most perfect guy in your life. So I can only pity you for having to deal with idiots like me knocking on your door.”
He keeps talking but I don’t hear a single word of what he says.
I’m still stuck in what came before.
“You love me?” I ask, my voice so weak it’s practically a whisper.
Not surprising, because I’ve been holding my breath for who knows how long, and I don’t have much oxygen left in my lungs at this point.
Jasper is clearly trying to be a better person, pressing his lips together tightly, a frustrated grunt stuck in his throat.
I bite my lower lip, trying not to smile, and allow him, “Go ahead, say what you wanna say.”
He must be relieved because he takes a deep breath before letting it all out at once, “No, Julie, I don’t love you.
I’m just here humiliating myself completely, while running from work and pissing off a bunch of dangerous people, after buying a ticket to fucking Tulsa, Oklahoma, just to try to find your gate because it seemed like fun. ”
I’m smiling. Jasper Hassmann is undeniably a sarcastic jerk. Yet I can’t stop smiling.
“Of course I love you!” he tells me impatiently, this time with zero sarcasm.
Then runs his hand through his hair, trying to compose himself, maintain that tough, emotionless lawyer facade, but it only seems to make him more flustered.
And more handsome than ever.