39. Juno
CHAPTER 39
JUNO
I’m moping on the couch, rewatching my favorite moment in all of fiction—the scene in Encanto when Isabela creates a cactus.
What I’d give for such a power.
Oh, well. I’ll have to settle for the cactuses I’ve got: trusty El Duderino and his new brother, Chateau de Chambord.
Crap. Thinking of the new cactus reminds me of the person who gifted him to me.
Lucius has been extremely persistent over the last three days. There have been calls, voicemails, texts, emails, and various gifts.
If I’m honest with myself, he’s beginning to wear me down, but I have to be strong. The thing he most likely wants is to convince me to keep the fake relationship going, and that’s not something I?—
My phone rings. Is it Lucius again? Is he like the devil—think of him and he calls you?
But no.
It’s Pearl, my friend—not Lucius’s kinky grandmother.
“Hey,” I say, trying not to sound as depressed as I feel. “What’s up?”
“I just got a call from your insane billionaire squeeze,” she says.
“What?”
“I said I got a call from one Lucius Warren,” she says exaggeratingly loudly. “Imagine my surprise.”
I jump to my feet. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Yeah. He mentioned that as the reason for reaching out to me. Sounds like you two had a fight—and you didn’t tell me a thing about it.”
“Sorry. The NDA.” In truth, I didn’t talk to anyone about Lucius because it’s impossible to explain my situation without admitting to all the lies, and I can’t bear to get into that.
“Well,” she says. “Given the stunt he’s about to pull, I think you might want to talk to him.”
“Nope. Not happening.”
She sighs. “What happened, hon? Was there another woman?”
“No.”
She gasps. “Another man?”
“No! He didn’t cheat. I don’t think he’s even interested in… never mind.”
There’s a silence on her end for a while. Then she says, “Okay. I’m here to talk when you’re ready. For now, can you at least tell me how he got my number?”
“No idea. I did mention your name in front of him and his grandmother—because her name is also Pearl. He must have used his billionaire resources to triangulate you.”
It might not have even been all that hard. How many young women of our age are named Pearl? Whatever the number, I almost smile picturing Lucius cold-calling all said Pearls and asking them if they have a friend named Juno.
“Okay,” she says. “But you’ll need to at least talk to him once. Tell him to cancel his dumb idea.”
“Which is?”
She tells me.
My eyes go wide and my stomach drops. Then I clench my teeth and demand, “How do I get in touch with him?”
“Check your email,” she says. “He said the Zoom video conference is up and running, and that you should have an invite.”
“Okay. I’d better go.”
“Of course,” she says. “But you will tell me everything afterward.”
“At some point, maybe,” I say. “That is, unless you hear about what happened to him on the daily news. ‘Billionaire Dies from Idiotic Gesture.’”
“Romantic gesture,” she corrects.
Not dignifying that with a reply, I hang up, then grab my computer and locate the email.
Damn.
He’s emailed me another dozen times since I last deleted all his messages without reading.
I open the most recent email and click on the link to join the stupid video call.
A second later, there he is, on my screen.
Saguaro give me strength.
Seeing him, I forget everything, including how mad I am and why.
I’ve missed my stupid human cactus. Missed him so much it hurts.
“Hi,” he says from the screen. “Thanks for joining.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s not like you gave me much choice.”
As if to confirm my words, a white Persian cat strolls in front of the camera. Then a Siamese cat. Then one of those bald ones that all the movie villains have jumps onto his shoulder, no doubt thinking herself a parrot to his pirate.
“I wanted to apologize,” Lucius says, oblivious to the cat menaces surrounding him. “I wanted to tell you how I feel. In person.” He reaches toward the camera and the video cuts off. “A limo is waiting for you. Or if you want to take a cab, the place is called Purrville Cat Cafe.”
“Wait!” I shout. “Go outside.”
Except it’s too late. The call disconnects before he can hear me.
Fuck! Shouldn’t a cat cafe check if a patron is allergic to cats before letting him in? Or did he lie to them?
Whatever.
I run for my shoes, glad I was dressed reasonably well when this whole thing started. If he went into anaphylactic shock because I had to change, I don’t know what I’d do.
Sprinting outside, I leap into the limo and shout, “Go!”
Elijah must know of Lucius’s folly because we get moving at a Fast and the Furious pace.
Watching the streets blur, I can’t help but picture Lucius’s gorgeous features swelling up, his throat closing, and then?—
The limo stops.
Whew. At least Purrville Cat Cafe is close enough to my place.
I dash inside, ignoring the front door people saying something about waivers and fees.
Cats are everywhere. It’s actually a struggle not to step on a paw or a tail, but I do my best.
When I reach Lucius, he’s surrounded by enough cats to give even the most vicious, battle-weary sewer rat nightmares.
“You came,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by a fluffy tail wrapped around his face.
I remove the fluffy monster and glare at Lucius’s red, swollen eyes. “I refuse to talk here. Outside. Now.”
Nodding somewhat gratefully, he stands up and quickly exits Purrville.
As soon as we’re on the street, I give him my most seething glower. “Are you out of your mind?”
He shrugs and sneezes violently. “I had to see you.”
“So you staged a fucking suicide?”
“Nothing so dramatic.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an EpiPen. “I just needed to show you how serious I was. My life wasn’t in danger.”
“Bullshit.” Still, I sigh in relief, then say with feeling, “You asshole. I was worried.” Then, to show him just how much, I push him. Or I intend to.
He captures my wrists and then my gaze. “You were worried about me?”
“Yeah. Obviously. Unlike some, I have human emotions and?—”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezes my wrists gently. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Sure you did. And you’d better have a good fucking reason.”
“I do,” he says solemnly. “I need to tell you something.”
The look in his eyes makes me feel light and bubbly all of a sudden—like I might float away, or burst. I fight the feeling because I’ve been deceived before. Keeping my tone cranky, I say, “Fine. Out with it.”
“Okay.” He tugs me closer. “I love you.”
Or at least, that is what I think I hear him say. It’s so shocking that I reply with the dumbest comeback since the times of Ancient Rome: “What?”
He lets go of my wrists to cradle my face in his palms. “I love you, Juno. I need you to know that. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want you to date me. For real this time. I hope that over time, you also?—”
“I love you too, you idiot!”
“What?” he says, and I don’t think he’s making fun of my earlier “what?”
I cover his hands with mine. “I said ‘you idiot.’”
“Fair,” he agrees. “But before that?”
I dampen my lips. “I love you, Lucius. I’ve been falling for you all this time. I knew it when I realized that you’re a cactus. My cactus. Then, when we?—”
He silences me in the nicest way possible—with a kiss.
A sweet, gentle one that makes me believe he really means his words—as earth-shattering as they are. Swiftly, the kiss turns R-rated, our tongues mating hungrily as he drops his hands to my hips and pulls me to his aroused body.
And then he pulls away and sneezes. Twice.
I step back and give him a stern onceover.
Yep. He’s covered in cat fur, and his eyes are not looking healthy. At all.
“We need to get you out of those clothes,” I say. “And into a shower.”
His gaze heats up. “Will you join me?”
I pretend to sigh. “If that’s what it takes.”