Chapter Five – Cullen
CHAPTER FIVE
CULLEN
“ S he knows you’ve purchased the apartment,” my lawyer drawls.
“Does she?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she knew I’d move back by now.”
“Her reaction says otherwise.”
“She probably wishes she could keep me away for eternity.”
“For lack of a better word, according to her lawyer’s voicemail.”
“Now I’m curious, Hughes. What colorful words did she have for me this time?”
“Do you really—”
“Hang on, hold that thought. I have to jump. Fill me in later.”
I hang up without waiting for him to finish—which he will chew me out for later—and slip my phone in my pants pocket. I smooth out my shirt and readjust my posture on the wall I’m resting against, making sure I come off relaxed and not like I’ve been here for the past thirty minutes.
Verity breezes into the coffee shop, looking just as stunning as I remember.
Her cheeks are a little flushed as she smooths down her hair and tucks a stray flyaway behind her ear.
She ping pongs her gaze across the coffee shop until she spots me, and then raises a hand to her chest with an apologetic smile.
“Hi, sorry I’m late. The A train isn’t running and I didn’t know, so I had to take the F, and that didn’t bring me nearly as close to the shop, so I had to walk a couple of blocks.
And there was like an entire horde of tourists clogging the path because of those damn bus tours that–between you and me–are a total rip-off, and fighting through them was a complete nightmare.
This one guy nearly took out my eye with his elbow and he didn’t even apologize. I swear, I’m normally on time.”
I smile at her signature rambling.
“You’re fine. I just got here myself.”
“Really?”
No.
“Yes.”
“Okay, that makes me feel a little better.” Her shoulders relax a fraction, and she finally takes in the coffee shop, neck craning to observe the small space. “I don’t know how I’ve never seen this place before. My office isn’t that far from here.”
“Our office is near here, too. They have some of the best coffee in the city.”
She raises a brow. “First, it’s the best wings in the city, then the best hangover food, and now the best coffee? You sure are pretty confident in yourself.”
“Have I been wrong yet?”
“No.” She smiles. “Those bagels were pretty killer. What do you recommend here?”
I hold out my elbow to her, and she takes a second before looping her dainty fingers around the crook. Just like the other night, the feel of her against me is like a puzzle piece slotting into place.
We join the back of the short line, and I use my free hand to point at the menu printed on the wall.
“I tend to just get their house drip brew. You really can’t go wrong with anything here, but they are known for their specialty lattes.”
“Hmm.” She tilts her head to the side, almost resting on my shoulder. “Well, I do love trying new coffees wherever I can. It’s kind of like a fun game I play with myself.” She purses her lips briefly. “I think I’ll try the Spanish latte.”
“Perfect.”
I place our orders, and we wait off to the side until they’re ready.
She peers up at me through her long lashes. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I thought we could just walk and talk. It’s pretty nice out.”
“Okay. Works for me.”
We grab our drinks and head onto the busy street. It takes a few blocks until the crowds start to thin out and the bustle of the city quiets a fraction. I make sure to keep my strides steady so she isn’t rushing to keep up with the pace of my longer legs.
I do technically have a rough destination in mind, but I don’t want to spoil that for her just yet.
Verity said the other night that one of the things she cares about is quality time, and I want to take the time to get to know her more.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since I closed the door to her rideshare.
Even while I was meeting with Clifton Bank, I found my mind straying to her when I’m normally locked in during deals.
For years, I’d closed myself off to any new potential partners and stuck to just the occasional one-night stand.
I’d believed that my shot at love had passed me by and was hesitant to let myself become caught up in another whirlwind romance that would just leave me bruised.
I’d let the fear of my ex rule my life for too long.
I’d lost so many years to her, and I’ve finally gotten to a place where I can see myself trying again.
Verity sparks the small ember in my chest to a flame.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a committed relationship, but I know myself enough to acknowledge that once I become invested in a woman, I am all in.
My friends used to give me shit for it when I was younger, saying I was easily pussy-whipped.
It was my nature to turn my girl into my whole world, so much so that it blinded me to everything else.
I’ve spent the last decade growing from the terrible mistakes I made in the past because of that.
Verity has offered me a clean slate for the first time.
I tilt my head toward her.
“All right, Verity, tell me three things.”
“Oh, this game again?” She smiles. “Okay, what three things?”
“Anything. No category.” I take a sip of coffee.
“That vagueness is a lot of pressure. Okay. I’m a Cancer, this is my third coffee of the day, and I’m pretty sure that man is peeing in that bush.”
“Wait. What?”
“Over there.”
She gestures with her coffee cup at a man in a large coat who is—yup—he’s peeing into a bush.
“Yeah, I didn’t miss that about the city.”
She laughs. “It really is a special place, isn’t it?”
“There was this one time I was waiting for the train out in Bushwick at like six a.m., and there was this dude buck naked in nothing but an adult diaper.”
“Seriously? Was he old or young?”
“Old, but not old enough. It just made it creepier, especially with all the chest hair.” I give her a fake shiver.
“Yikes. I once saw a lady pull out a whole seafood boil in a plastic bag and start slurping it down. It was the middle of summer, and the humidity did no one any favors.”
“That’s rough.”
“You have no idea.”
“I think my favorite, though, is during the holidays when there is that massive Santa bar crawl and the trains are just full of drunk Santas. They still do that, right?”
“Yeah, they do. Although, I try to avoid riding late that night. Drunk Santas can get real creepy real quick.” She turns to face me. “I’m surprised you take the subway.”
“Why?”
“You seemed pretty against it the other night.”
“That was a safety thing, not an anti-subway thing.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not that bad at night.”
“Verity.”
“Cullen,” she mocks back.
She’s so damn cute when she gets all playful. It makes me want to hold her closer, makes me want to kiss those plush, smirking lips.
She notices me staring, a pinkish hue tinting the apples of her cheeks. I don’t look away, though; I keep her trapped in my gaze. Her tongue pokes out briefly, licking her bottom lip, and I know her mind is in step with my own.
A car speeds past us, honking, which causes a chain reaction of beeping around us.
Verity whips her head forward and takes a desperate chug of coffee.
I stare at the taxi and silently curse its entire existence.
It seems like every single time I have her nibbling the bait on the end of my hook, something crashes into the water and scares her away.
Verity’s steps slow as we pass a boutique flower shop on the corner, and she stares at the different arrangements in the window.
“Snapdragons are my favorite flowers, closely followed by roses and lilies.”
“In other words, I picked well, but I could’ve picked better.”
She laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone give out bouquets of snapdragons.”
“There’s always a first.” I make a mental note to look into it.
“Fair. But the roses you got me were gorgeous.”
“Can’t go wrong with a classic.”
“Did you know red’s my favorite color? Blue is a close second, but I’m starting to get a little PTSD from looking at a million shades of it for this project I’m working on.”
“Actually, yes. I planned that accordingly. I know you love the color red and are going through an anti-blue phase. It was absolutely not a complete fluke.”
“Oh, really? And how’d you know that?” she teases.
“Obviously, it’s because I stalked you.”
She lets out a mock gasp. “Is that how you know where I live? You stalked me? I can’t believe I got it wrong. I was worried about you murdering me in the alley when I should’ve asked if you were a stalker. Classic misstep.”
“Or, and this is me just thinking out loud, it’s because you gave me your address to call the rideshare.”
She stops walking, her lips pulling into a thin, awkward smile as she glances at me from the corner of her eyes.
“Oh. Right. That. That makes a lot more sense.”
Although I’d had no idea which apartment was hers—I’d only known the building. Paying the delivery driver extra to knock on the door of each apartment until he found the right one is something I don’t need to divulge at this point.
I am just lucky she lives in a small walk-up; if she’d lived in some fancy high-rise, I would’ve been screwed. Going through eight apartments is a lot easier than eighty.
“What about you, Cullen? Tell me three things?”
“Three things, hmm.” I toss my empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and then use her grip on my elbow to steer her around the corner and down one of the main streets.
“Come on,” she nudges me. “I was quicker than this.”
“All right, all right. One, I got no sleep last night because my friend was bothering me at four in the morning.”
“Ouch. Was he drunk or something?”
“No. He’s in London and has no respect for time zone differences.”
She laughs. “Okay, what else?”
This game was a lot more fun when I was the one asking the questions.
“Two, that was my second coffee of the day.”
“So, we’re both caffeine addicts.”
“Who isn’t?”
“My boss. She refuses to drink coffee and instead has her assistant buy her a ridiculous number of matcha lattes every day from the place next door.”
“She sounds like fun.”
“An absolute riot. Okay, last one.”
I groan, trying to think of something simple.
“I have a sister. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that yet.”
“Vaguely. Is she younger or older?” She stops walking and holds out her hand. “Wait. Let me guess. Younger.”
“Correct. What gave it away?”
“The anti-subway vibes.”
“I told you, I’m not against the subway system. I’m just against gorgeous women taking the subway at one a.m. while drunk.”
“Tipsy,” she corrects. “But your argument only supports my observation. Older brothers are more protective.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Nope. Only child. Always wanted a sibling. My high school bestie had an older brother, though, and he once punched the daylights out of this guy who was shit-talking behind her back.”
“I respect that. I suckered my best friend into helping me remove all the tires from my sister’s ex-boyfriend’s new car when he dumped her after the fall dance.”
“That’s less violent but almost more concerning because it’s premeditated.”
“I didn’t get caught. I’m guessing your friend’s brother did?”
“Touché.” She raises a brow. “It’s interesting. One moment you’re waxing poetic, the next you’re revealing misdeeds. You’re a hard man to pin down.”
“You only have to ask, Verity. I’m yours to pin down anytime, anywhere.”
“That–that’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s what you were thinking.”
“Was not.”
“Fine, then what were you thinking about?”
She puckers her lips, slightly puffing her cheeks as she refuses to respond.
It draws my attention to her mouth, to those plush pillows I’ve been dying to kiss. “Actually, why don’t you ask me what I’m thinking about?”
She releases the puff of air she was holding, glancing up at me.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“You.” I give her a sly grin. “Well, more specifically, kissing you.”
“You—wait–” Her steps falter, but I keep her upright, pulling her to face me.
“I have a new question for you.”
She blinks.
“Do you kiss on the second date, Verity?”