Chapter 24
24
Juni
That didn’t go as planned.
Maybe the problem is that there was no plan how we would play out at all, so the only direction was down.
I walk off the elevator to find Gil napping on the job. I don’t blame him. I step lighter, not wanting to wake him. I had hoped a shower could make me feel human again or lying down in bed would make me feel better. Neither worked, so I sit on the couch across the lobby from Gil, needing advice from my best ally. But after a while, I get hungry and wonder if he has a donut back there for me.
Tiptoeing over, I’m quiet as soon as I reach over the counter. My hand is lightly smacked.
Snapping it back, I say, “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” He slides his feet off the desk and onto the floor, sitting upright. “No stealing.”
“I thought you said you got that for me?”
“I did,” he replies. “To bribe you into spending time with me. Not take it and run.” Despite my inner turmoil, he makes it hard not to smile. “You sticking around for a few minutes?”
“I need your advice.”
He holds up the pink box. “Then take two.” I laugh. It’s light but feels like a good release of some of the turmoil swimming around in my stomach.
The one will do. “Thank you.” I take a donut and plant my elbows down on the counter. “By the way, you don’t have to bribe me to spend time with you.”
I only got one taco wrap before this night went off a cliff, so the sugary sweet is a nice addition to fill my stomach.
Studying me, he says, “Wet hair. PJ’s. Five thirty in the morning. What’s going on, Juni?”
I’m sure I’m a shining example of an emotional catastrophe, but I appreciate that he’s willing to tackle my issues head-on. “He found out.”
“ He found out? Ah. Mr. Christiansen,” he says as if that’s the complete answer. Actually, I thought he was for a short time, like tonight. “He found out you live here? He found out that Rascal’s not your dog? He found out that?—”
“Okay, let’s not get carried away. You hit the bull’s-eye the first time.” I rip a piece of the donut off, trying my best to savor something that usually brings a little joy. It’s good, but it can’t fix my troubles this time.
“I’ve been wondering how that would go over.”
“Why? We like each other, so me living in the same building should be a good thing. Why is he upset?”
“A lie’s a lie, Junibug. You know how I feel about them. Even little lies can cause significant damage.”
Maybe I’m tired. I rub my forehead, thinking the hour is messing with my head. That’s the only thing that can explain why I’m so emotional right now and explain the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “I feel terrible,” I say, sniffling. “Worse than terrible, Gil.”
He gets up, the chair squeaking along with his bones working out the kinks from sitting too long. “Come here, kiddo.”
I let him wrap his hug around me and rest my head on his shoulder. “You warned me, and I didn’t listen. Now I’m paying the price.” I hadn’t cried until now. It’s a whimper, pretty pathetic if I were being judged. It’s not like Drew and I were so far gone we can’t turn around. “I liked him more than anyone else.”
“Sometimes, if we’re really fortunate, that happens.” He grabs a tissue and wipes under my eyes. “You’re strong. You always have been. I think you had to be, so I know what happened. You didn’t let him inside.”
“How could I? He didn’t know where I lived.”
“Your heart, Juni.”
Pointing out the obvious is sometimes necessary. I’ve avoided deeper feelings when it came to Drew, but tonight is a prime example of why I did it.
Why would I let him inside so soon after meeting? We were friends and coworkers. It’s fun to hang out with him, but did it become more without me realizing?
I ask, “How was I to know he’d mean more? Sure, he was cute with Rascal, and he lets me barge into his office at work anytime I feel like it. He gets protective when other guys look at me . . .” I finish the donut, shoving it in my mouth as if that will stop the twenty reasons that justify exactly why Drew and I can’t be friends. He’s grumpy but adorable. Grumpy-adorable? Whatever that means, I like it.
I like him .
Gil says, “Love?—”
“Love? Let’s not get carried away, Gil.”
He chuckles, but it’s light, befitting the conversation that weighs on the heavier side. “Listen,” he says, gesturing his hand in front of him. I’ve learned that means he’s serious. “I know why you’re protective. You were done a disservice as a kid. I’m protective over you because of it, but if you like him, maybe like the new job, you show him. Love only blooms with an open heart. And if it’s not love, you’ll find out real soon.”
His words unexpectedly reveal a new side of the situation— Drew’s .
Drew welcomed me into his world, his private sanctuary. He didn’t treat me as if I were only temporary. He treated me like I belonged there with him. “Always coming in with the good advice. How do you know all this love stuff?”
“I’ve been around the sun a few turns, and what can I say? I have less than two hours until I go home to my sweetheart after a long shift. She’ll have a hot meal waiting, and then she’ll lie beside me until I fall asleep.”
They’re the sweetest. “Nancy’s always been a great cook.”
“Hey,” he says, pretending to pop his collar. “I’m not so bad myself.”
I’ve been to his house a few times over the years. He grills out back, but the kitchen always seemed to be Nancy’s domain down to the rooster décor. “Do you cook for her?”
“When I wake up to start getting ready for work, I have enough time to make her dinner. I usually leave a little note for when she gets home.”
Finishing my donut, I ask, “What does it say?”
“I’ll see you in the moonlight.”
That’s about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. “Does she leave you notes?”
“Yes,” he says, his tone reminiscent of something special he’s experienced. “I’ll see you in my dreams.”
I can only dream of finding someone as special to spend my life with.
While Gil takes a rag to the top of the desk, I look back at the elevator. Maybe it’s that I’m more awake, or that I have food on my stomach, but my mind and heart are clear, giving me a new perspective. “Gil?”
He stops and looks up. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for the chat as always.”
“Always here for you.”
“Too much, in fact,” I joke but also mean it. I start for the elevator, knowing I owe Drew an apology. Now I understand why he was so upset. A lie is a lie, no matter how big or small or the intention behind it. We told each other trust and honesty, and I broke that promise.
I can’t be mad if he doesn’t forgive me. It will hurt, but I have to give him that right to do what he feels is best for him.
Gil says, “Family is always there when you need them.”
My parents used an unorthodox method of parenting, one that involved leaving me behind. So family isn’t always there, but Gil has been. We don’t tell each other I love you or get into the deep feels for each other, but we know we care without the words. “Good night.”
“Take care.”
The elevator door opens on the seventeenth floor, and I use the distance to his door to go over the things I want to say and try to predict a better outcome than the dread I’m feeling inside.
The night started with me still convincing myself we could be friends. That was a lie I was telling myself. As if I repeated it enough times, I would believe it. The teasing, the fun, and spending time together was already moving us past that stage. The physical attraction was always there, but somewhere along the way, my heartstrings started attaching to his.
I knock, light at first, and then wait. Dread digs its claws in deeper with every passing minute. Not able to stand there and wait, my fears have me knocking louder when he doesn’t answer.
Lowering my hand, I know it’s still early, and I look down the hall at the other door. I don’t have a right to disturb his neighbors just because I screwed up. Leaning against the solid wood door, I say, “Drew? Andrew?” I’m not sure if I have a right to the nickname right now . . . or at all since it’s become personal to him. “Mr. Christiansen?”
What am I doing?
We were making love three hours ago. Even if he is mad, surely, he’ll be okay if I call him by his first name, for Pete’s sake. Knocking lightly, I call, hoping he can hear me through the wood, “Andrew?”
Nothing.
No answer.
No reply.
No acknowledgment at all.
Anger tries to rear its ugly head as the insult of being ignored burns through me. I take a breath, drowning the emotions that make this about me instead of him. I should have told him the truth. He was owed that. I knew it all along. Is cutting me out with such finality my repayment? Now I start to worry about my job come Monday.
I like that job. A lot. But I’d give it up if it meant we could pick up where we left off earlier tonight in bed. “I’m sorry.” Pressing my face into the corner of the door, I whisper, “I’m sorry I lied,” hoping he can hear me.
Stepping back, I wait a few more minutes, silently begging him, willing him to open the door. When he doesn’t, I decide I need to walk away. Not for me, but to give him the peace he’s seeking.
I bypass the elevator and push through into the stairwell. It’s only one flight down, but I’m dragging my feet. When I swing open the door to my floor, I stop. Down the hall on the right, long and muscular legs in fitness shorts stretch before him with sneakers on his feet. His T-shirt hanging loose around his torso might be the most casual I’ve ever seen him dressed. He wears it well like everything else.
Drew might be the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but his mood permeates the hallway. His presence fills wherever he exists, and it’s easy to get consumed by it. Right now, I’m willing to take the chance.
The door comes flying closed and whacks me in the ass, sending me stumbling forward. “Ow!” Graceful.
He turns, and the recognition filling his eyes has him scrambling to his feet as fast as he can. “Where have you been?” There’s no harsh tone but one of worry.
I rub my ass and then toward him. “I’ve been waiting for you upstairs. I knocked. A lot. Probably disturbed your neighbors. After a while, I finally came back down.”
“The same.”
I cover the last few feet and ask, “For how long?” Call me a romantic, but it matters.
“Until you opened the door.”
I’m not sure I’m doing a good job of hiding my smile when I twist my lips to the side, but at least, I’m trying. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I was an asshole, and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t?—”
“I am, actually. I’m an asshole in life, a miserable jerk who cares more about a company than my own life. But you know what, Juni?”
I’m surprised to be having this conversation so quickly, so honestly, so easily. That has to be a good sign if we’re trusting in those sorts of things. And I do. I lean on the wall across from him. “What?”
“I’m not such an asshole with you. And I don’t mean to you, if you can momentarily forget my behavior upstairs, but to everyone because of you. You make me less annoyed with the world. You make me see the little things, the important things, everything I ignored before.” He steps closer, but each is tentative. “Instead of getting upset, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure you have a good reason for not telling me you live here.”
Glancing back, he scans the door and the wreath hanging on the outside. It’s dusty, and I should have packed that away, but my grandmother loved it, so here it’s stayed. I pull my key from my pocket and move forward, knowing I’m totally letting him into my small corner of the world if he’ll stay. “Actually, I don’t have a good reason, other than you called me a stalker on day one, so I did everything I could to make you believe otherwise.” I roll my eyes just listening to myself admit that out loud. “You know, like a stalker would do.”
Shoving the key in the knob, I unlock it and open the door.
But then he does more than I could ever ask of him. He says, “I was willing to wait all night for you. I think I’m the stalker, after all.” He takes the heat off me. I might have hearts in my eyes. Fine, I do.
“Since you know where I live, psycho, come on in?”
“I’d like that, but first, I hope you accept my apology for how I treated you. So many excuses from being tired to realizing you’re the one who has kept me up so many nights with your cooking concerts to the lie have run through my head. But I failed to acknowledge my part in all this.”
Taking my hand in his, he brings it to his mouth to kiss, and then again. “I’m sorry, Juni, and I’m sorry for not making you feel safe to share the truth. I never thought you were a stalker.” The smirk comes first in a direct hit to my knees. Why does he have to be so good at everything, including weakening me? Then the wink. “But,” he says, playing it off in that non-bragging but totally bragging way, “you’re not the first woman to follow me home.”
My smirk pales in comparison, so I give him my best smug grin. “I bet I’m not. I can only imagine all the girls tripping over themselves when you were in high school.” When I move closer, his arms envelop me without hesitation, bringing me against the soft T-shirt that covers his hard chest. I close my eyes, absorbing everything I can about this man. We are friends, but we’re becoming much more, and I recognize that now.
“I did all right back in high school.” He strokes the back of my hair. “But Juni, I would have been a one-woman man if I had known you back then.”
Looking up, I rest my chin on him. “Magic happens when two forces join. This feels good because of us, not because I’m so special.” He kisses my forehead, still appearing to bear all the wrong of the night on his shoulders. I add, “It feels good to joke with you, but I want you to know that I’m sorry I lied. I won’t do it again.” And I do need to explain to him why I held back, but I need more time to figure that out myself. Is it because I’ve never felt safe in a relationship before? Safe enough to let someone into my heart? I have a lot of thinking to do.
He caresses my cheek, looking into my eyes. “I believe you, but I’m going to need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
Holding his hand up, he says, “I’ve never pinky-promised with anyone other than my mom. Not even Nick when we were little. But I will with you if you will with me.”
When his pinky stretches out, I burst out laughing. “Hell yeah, I’ll pinky promise with you.” Our pinkies wrap around each other’s, and he bends to give me a kiss. I kiss him because in the span of an hour, I went from thinking I blew it with this amazing man to being in his arms again.
He kisses me once more. I revel in the sweetness. And then he says, “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
I could point out that I’m the one who lied and kept secrets, but I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “It’s okay. We’ll call it even.” That wins me a chuckle that I’ll happily take all day, every day, and in the middle of the night in the hallway. “Come in, and I’ll give you a tour.”
I shut the door behind him and let him wander on his own into the living room. A smile comes easy, and he says, “I like it.”
Not wanting to let another moment pass, I go and kiss him because I can. Our lips meet, and his hands slide over the sides of my pajamas. But then he leans away from me, appearing to be confused. After he bends down, I ask, “What are you doing?”
Clapping his hands twice, he turns back to me, and asks, “Where’s Rascal?”
Oops! “About that . . .”