Chapter Fifty-Three – Verity
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
VERITY
I gnaw on my thumb, staring dazedly out the window and watching the rain pound against the glass. It is seventy degrees this morning, but Mother Nature doesn’t seem to care. I wasn’t expecting the downpour.
I hadn’t expected to see Cullen yesterday either.
And I certainly didn’t expect to see him drop to his knees.
My stomach flips at the memory.
I’d headed to Common Catch to meet with Garrett and Nick to celebrate our upcoming partnership.
I’d gone into their offices beforehand to sign the work-for-hire contract and chat about their deadlines for each aspect of the project.
They’d even agreed to give me thirty-five percent of my pay up front, with the remaining sixty-five split upon the completion of each of the three brand projects.
That amount will have me more than set up for the next few months, which is nuts to think about.
I’ll be making more with the Harver Group than bi-weekly with Delute—minus the fact that the Harver contract is for a set term and Delute had been a steady income with health insurance.
I am excited about this new journey, about what it could mean for me.
Yes, it might not totally work in the long run, and I might end up needing to go back to a corporate job if I can’t get consistent pay—but I can’t live in that might mindset.
Right now, it seems like this could work.
I will have the freedom to take on whatever client I desire, not one that has been preapproved and vetted by Celine, and not one that has been forced on me with no choice.
But while it seems like my work life might be sorted, my love life is still in shambles.
I’d been so tempted to run after Cullen, to call his name and grab his hand.
Watching his back as he walked away had been like hammering nails into my heart.
But I needed the time to think about what he’d said and not just leap back into his arms without a second thought.
They were sober words, not drunken declarations left over voicemail, and I needed to process it sincerely.
The issue is, the more I think, the more I realize that I don’t need the time.
At this point, it feels like I am just delaying the inevitable. I want to be with Cullen. Yes, I am still hurt that he lied about still being married to Celine, that he never made the distinction between separated and divorced, but I also understand why he didn’t tell me.
At the end of the day, I know in my heart of hearts that if he’d told me on the night that we met that he had an ex-wife that he’d been separated from for ten years and hated but was still married to because she refused to sign divorce papers…
I would’ve walked in the opposite direction.
Even just imagining that scenario in my mind gives me a headache from how messy it sounds.
So, what do I do now?
Do I just take him back? Is it that easy?
“Hey, I have a latte for you.”
The smiling barista places a tall ceramic mug next to my laptop, a hexagon pattern dusted onto the foam. Her name is Aisling, and we’ve become quite familiar these last couple of weeks. Actually, I’m pretty sure everyone who works at this coffee shop knows me by now.
“You messed up another order?”
“Life’s a bitch. We can’t all be perfect.” She shrugs before heading back behind the counter.
I lift the mug off the napkin and give it a sniff, trying to decipher what it could be. My gut is saying honey, especially considering the design.
A small sip confirms my suspicions, the sugary sweetness coating my tongue. There is a slightly nutty, almost roasted almond undertone on the back end. It is freaking delicious, as always.
I turn and give Aisling a thumbs up, and she gives me a mock bow.
I am starting to get suspicious of these lattes.
The first few times they brought them over to me, they’d claimed they were mistakes. Orders that had gotten botched because they used the wrong milk or syrup. I’d tried to refuse, but they said if I didn’t want it, they’d just end up tossing it down the drain.
I’m not proud enough to let them go to waste, not when they are almost nine dollars a pop.
It’s been weeks, though. There is no way they are capable of messing up this many coffees in a day if they are still in business.
I think they just feel bad for me after overhearing Hannah and me talking about Cullen and my lack of employment.
Which says a lot because I’m the one imposing on their coffee shop, so I should feel even worse.
I’ve turned this place into my own personal workspace, claiming the table in the front corner as my own every morning while Hannah goes to work across the street.
I take another sip of my drink, scrolling through the design brief Nick’s assistant sent me and sketching a few ideas on my tablet.
After an hour, I shut my laptop and head to the bathroom. The coffee I drank is killing my bladder.
I finish drying my hands and give them a quick wipe on my hips as I head back into the main shop. I pass by the back room, lost in my thoughts, when a conversation halts my steps.
“Do you really think she believes all those coffees are mistakes?”
“I have no clue.”
“I mean, it’s been weeks. She has to have caught on by now.”
“I dunno, Josh. She seems pretty happy every time we give her one. I’m so jealous. I wish I had some rich guy buying me drinks every day.”
“I mean, she’s hot, so...”
“Seriously?”
“What? I’m not wrong.”
“Whatever. Have you seen him, though? Aisling snuck a pic when he came in the other day. He is soooo freaking sexy.”
“Sexier than me?”
“Obviously.”
“Oh, come on, Gracie. I’m a hunk.”
“Oh my God.”
The back door opens unexpectedly, and I’m caught red-handed as the two employees just about bowl me over.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, Verity. Almost ran right into you.” The guy, Josh, reaches out to steady me.
“It’s fine.”
The three of us stand there awkwardly for a moment.
I might be a little paranoid but…
“Were you talking about me?”
They share a look. The kind that says oh shit, now what?
The girl, Gracie, grimaces. “Um, well. You see—”
“Yes,” Josh cuts her off. “Yes, we were talking about you.”
“Joooosh,” she whines. “You can’t say it like that.”
“What? She clearly heard us.”
She lets out a huff, rolling her eyes at him before turning to give me a pitiful smile. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to gossip—”
“Yes. We did.”
“—but it’s just that you’re probably the most interesting thing to happen here in, like, forever.”
“Okay.” I try to sort through the facts. “What did you mean about some guy?”
“You mean your secret admirer?”
“I guess?”
“Well, you see—” Gracie starts talking with her hands, eyes lit up in a way that tells me she one hundred percent does, in fact, love to gossip, despite her earlier statement.
“A few weeks ago, this guy came in at the end of the day and asked Aisling if it was possible to pay for someone else’s drink whenever they came here.
Aisling was like, ‘What, dude?’ But he said he upset his girlfriend, and that she’d been coming here to work, and he wanted to do something for her.
And Aisling, I mean, I know she seems like such an I don’t care kinda person, but she’s actually pretty kind, so she agreed.
And so, once a week he comes in and just gives her a wad of cash to cover the girl’s drinks—and that girl is you! ”
I think this Gracie chick gives me a run for my money on rambling.
But also.
What?
“Did you happen to catch his name?”
“No, but Aisling has a picture. Come on.” She beckons me with a wave, skirting around me in the narrow hallway and heading back into the shop.
I trail after her, watching as she waits for Aisling to finish making a coffee for the couple that came in while we were all busy chatting. When she’s done creating the perfect layer of foam on the cappuccinos, she pulls her phone from her apron and scrolls through it for a few seconds.
“Here. It’s not super clear because I didn’t want to seem like a weirdo, but...”
She flips her phone around, and even though the picture is pretty blurry, it’s easy for me to recognize him.
Who am I kidding? Of course, it’s him. At what point did I think it could be any other guy?
There isn’t a universe that exists where it wouldn’t be him.
We’re talking about the same man who sent me a bouquet of flowers every day for weeks until I agreed to be his girlfriend.
The man who teamed up with my best friend to get me tickets to the ballet.
The man who rented out the restaurant where we first met for a date.
The man who commuted to work with me every day even though he lived in the opposite direction.
The man who still gets me a coffee every day when I work even though I shut him out.
The man who came running to me when he thought I might be on a date with someone else.
I always wanted to find someone who would put me first, someone who would notice the little things about me and go above and beyond to fulfill them…and I found that person. I found that person and then I let him go.
But it’s not too late to get him back.
Fuck Celine. She’s stolen too many years from me as it is.
I won’t let her steal my happiness…and I won’t let her continue to steal Cullen’s either.
I run back to my table in the corner, not even giving it a second thought as I pull up Cullen’s contact on my phone and hit dial. I shove the phone between my ear and shoulder as I work at tossing all my crap into my tote bag as quickly as possible.
The call barely even rings once before he picks up.
“Verity? Are you okay?”
My heart melts into a puddle of goop. Trust that to be the first thing he says to me.
“Where are you?”
“Where am I? Hudson Yards.”
“Send me the exact location.”
“Sure, one sec.” There’s a pause before my phone vibrates with a text. “Why?”
“I need to see you.”
“Wait, where are you?”
“Midtown. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Hang on, it’s pouring. I’ll come to you.”
“No. Don’t move.”
“Verity—”
“Wait for me, Cullen. Please.”
There’s a beat, and I worry he’s going to fight me on this. He always cares about putting me first, but there is no way I can just sit here. I’ve made up my mind, and there’s zero chance I’ll go back on it. I have to see him. The need burning in me is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.
“Always,” his voice is steady. “I’ll always wait for you.”