Chapter Twenty-Two – Verity
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
VERITY
I wake up to yet another text from Cullen.
Every morning for the last seven days, this man has sent me a text.
Every night for the last seven nights, he has sent me a bouquet of flowers. Each one contains around a hundred flowers, either lilies or roses, and all come with a note that I never read.
I’ve started to foist the bouquets off onto my neighbors because at least someone should get to enjoy them.
My phone vibrates again with another text notification.
I haven’t opened them because I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a read receipt. I could cheat—do that little trick where you hold down and read the message without actually opening it—but I’m worried that if I read his words, I’ll cave.
Contrary to my initial plan, erasing Cullen from my mind has been a chore and I’m slacking off.
I’m a little curious as to how long he plans to keep this up.
Surely, he’ll eventually get bored if I keep ignoring him.
And when that happens, he’ll just move on to someone else and I’ll be forced to accept it.
He is a wildly attractive, rich, single man.
There are probably plenty of women waiting to snatch him up who aren’t afraid of his ex-wife.
I hate that idea.
Cullen had barely been mine before he was taken away.
Well, I suppose I let him go—but it was unwillingly, so it’s a gray area.
I should block his number, is what I should really do, and not torture myself with the daily reminder of his existence. It is unhealthy, and I have my work to worry about.
I pop my earbuds in before dropping the case into my work tote and double checking that I have everything. I scroll through the music library on my phone as I leave the apartment and bounce down the four flights of stairs, trying to decide what mood I feel like for my commute this morning.
I click on one of the auto-generated playlists.
Heartbreak Pop Meltdowns for Sad Girl Hype Energy.
Well, that’s a little rude.
The songs look good though.
I hit play, allowing the noise to filter through my earbuds and distract my mind from a man I shouldn’t be thinking about.
I push out the apartment building door, a gust of wind whipping my hair around. The music clearly isn’t helping, because the first thing I see is a hot man whom I think is Cullen leaning against a light post.
Come on, Verity, get a grip. Stop hallucinating the man.
I turn right onto the sidewalk, taking my usual route to the subway stop five blocks away. Another pedestrian gets way too close, almost brushing my shoulder as they walk past even though there is plenty of space.
Scratch that. Not walking past, walking beside me.
Seriously, what is this person’s issue?
Don’t they know the universal law of mind your distance?
I whip my head to the side, a bitch glare already prepped that would effectively tell them “Seriously? Back up, buddy.”
That plan fails because it’s the hot man from the light post.
The man whom I thought was Cullen.
The man who is Cullen.
Shit.
My feet malfunction, causing me to stumble, and my brain is too caught up on Cullen that it fails to process my lack of balance. The concrete comes fast, looking to kiss my forehead and promise what is sure to be a concussion.
A strong hand grips my elbow, pulling me back into a hard body. One of my earbuds tumbles free, plopping onto the sidewalk.
“Careful, angel.”
The timbre of his voice buzzes against his chest, which my cheek is currently pressed against.
I push away, taking a healthy step back from the tempting man.
I thought it would help, not being connected to his body, but now I’m forced to look at him.
God damn it. It is seven in the morning, and he looks like he is ready for a photoshoot.
It should be illegal for this man to wear suits this well.
He has an expensive leather backpack slung over one shoulder and is carrying a brown paper bag in his left hand.
His stubble is darker than normal, almost like he took a day or so off from shaving. It does nothing but sharpen his jawline and make me want to run my hand along it to feel the pricks.
Oh God. This is bad. I’m already losing myself.
Cullen opens his mouth to say something, but I drop down, grab my runaway earbud, and then swivel on my feet to start marching away.
More distance. I need more distance.
“Verity.”
The word slithers across my skin, tearing further into my fracturing resolve.
There is a tap tap as he jogs to catch up to me, easily falling back into step beside me with his long legs that eat up my small strides.
What is he even doing here? Shouldn’t he be at work? Why is he outside my apartment?
I want to ask him, but I can’t open that jar without everything spilling out.
I’m just going to ignore him like I planned.
I pop my right earbud back in, drowning out any possible conversation he could start. Lyrics swim around me, but they sound like gibberish because I can only focus on the man beside me.
We walk three blocks in silence, and I worry I’m about to go nuts from the tension that crackles between us.
Seriously? How long is he going to keep this up? There is only one more block until I get to the subway entrance. Surely, he isn’t going to follow me down there. He can’t trail along all the way to the office. That would be…
I shake my head, banishing the thought.
There is no way he’d do that, not after everything.
I readjust my tote on my shoulder, gripping the fraying strap more tightly with my hand, and start to walk even faster. If I can just get to the end of the street, I can escape on the A train.
When I’m only a few feet away from the stairs that descend into the station, I begin to panic. He’s not slowing down. He doesn’t show any sign of leaving. I push ahead, jogging down the steps and hoping that he isn’t behind me.
I scan my watch on the electronic scanner, waiting for the light to pop up before I push through the turnstile. The air is always warmer down here, which isn’t a bad thing, unless it’s summer. That’s when the subway system turns into a boiler and the smells become noticeable.
I shuffle down the platform until I get to a pocket that is a little less packed. I rock back and forth on my heels, eyeing the notification banner that says the next train will be here in one minute.
Come on, hurry up.
I don’t risk looking to my left to see if Cullen followed me down. There’s no chance he did. Still, I can’t help but feel like there is a pair of eyes watching me. It’s this awareness prickling the back of my neck.
The wind in the tunnel picks up, signaling the impending train. I step a little closer to the yellow safety line painted on the ground. The air pressure increases as a screeching noise cuts above the music playing in my ears.
When the doors to the car open, I wait for people to exit before pushing in. I clock an empty seat—which isn’t that rare, since I live so far uptown—and slip onto the blue plastic, placing my tote bag in my lap.
Safe.
I let out a sigh, closing my eyes briefly. I have the next ten stops to get my heart rate back under control and my mind cleared before walking into the office. Totally doable.
A knee brushes against my own, and my lids pop open.
No.
I whip my head to the side and—
There he is.
Why?!
My lips part, the question bubbling in the back of my throat, desperate for release. The pressure builds on my tongue, the word dangling on the tip.
He turns, those hazel eyes glittering with a dare for me to speak, to acknowledge him.
I clamp my mouth shut, swallowing my voice and bottling the scream deep within my lungs.
I force myself to look forward and stare at the advertisements running along the top of the car. It feels like these ads change once a month. Right now, it’s a promotion for a new dating app. I read the words over and over, memorizing them in an attempt to not think about Cullen.
His cologne trickles into the air, twisting my core. The train turns a smidge too sharply; the force causes my butt to slide on the plastic and close the few inches that separated our bodies. My thigh presses against his thigh. My bicep against his bicep.
I squeeze my tote bag more tightly, holding onto it for dear life.
The tips of my fingers play with the loose stitching around the handle, which I should probably get fixed before it snaps.
I numb myself with the repetitive movements, rubbing the threads between my thumb and forefinger.
I’ve been meaning to get a new bag, but every time I look at the price tag, I shudder.
The stops keep trickling by, one after another.
My awareness of Cullen doesn’t dull even the slightest, but I stay true to my decision and ignore him to the best of my ability.
We arrive at the ninth stop, one away from my destination, when he stands up. The movement catches me off guard, and I automatically shift my gaze to peer up at him.
Cullen drops the paper bag he’d been carrying onto his empty seat and gives me a sad smile before fading into the sea of people exiting the train car.
I stare at his disappearing form until the doors close, cutting me off from him and creating this sense of hollowness right between my breasts.
What was the point of that? Why? Why?
I itch to run my hands through my hair and grip my head. The frustration crawls all over my body at the unanswered questions.
I glance at the paper bag he left behind. I can’t just leave it there. It would look suspicious as hell if a random brown bag were just chilling on the seats for the rest of the train’s journey.
I pick it up, intending to throw it into the trash as soon as I get to my stop, but my curiosity gets the better of me.
Inside is some sort of pastry in a white bag. It smells delicious, a rich sweetness emanating from it. I pluck it out, noting that it’s somehow still warm. My fingers catch on something on the back of the white bag, and I turn it around to find a little Post-it note stuck to the back.
May your Monday be as sweet as this Danish
C x
It’s cheesy as hell, totally eye-roll worthy, but as the train slows at the tenth stop and I get up to leave, I catch myself smiling.