Chapter 35
NOVA
The entire past two weeks, Wes and I had talked on the phone almost every day.
We talked about kink, art, New York, addiction, religion, and literature.
Our conversations spanned centuries, continents, and worlds, a mix of the deeply serious and profoundly unserious, sometimes both at the same time.
By the time he was at my front door, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers and my favorite bodega Dubai chocolate, I almost couldn’t believe he was here—in my world.
“Your building is in alarming condition,” he said, glancing back at the disgusting hallways that probably hadn’t been cleaned in two decades.
“It’s managed by a slumlord. So, you know, what are you gonna do? I’m sure he’s a very busy man.” I glanced behind him at the filth. “We were never even sent a lease to renew last year. We just stayed here and kept up monthly payments, and we haven’t heard a peep. A true gentleman’s agreement.”
Wes sighed, frowning as if displeased with this information but powerless to solve it.
I grinned, taking the flowers and chocolate and stepping back to let him in. “Thank you. These are beautiful.”
“They’re cat-safe. I checked,” he said.
Inara trilled on queue, rubbing up against Wes’s shins. He bent to pet her.
My eyes devoured the finely sculpted muscles of his arms and shoulders under his brown shirt, swallowing hard when he looked up at me devilishly.
Wes was in my apartment. Wes was petting my cat. Wes was a real human being who existed outside of churches, mansions, and Greenpoint.
“She’s very sweet,” he said with a smile, scratching under Inara’s chin. “Sort of dog-like.”
“She was a street kitten. Her friendliness and adorable disposition are tools of manipulation.”
Wes chuckled. “I’m familiar with such tactics.”
I led him into our cozy kitchen-living-room combo area, where Delilah and Hudson were waiting on the couch. I almost expected Hudson to cock a shotgun like a toxic father figure.
“Hi!” Delilah said, jumping up immediately and stretching out a hand. Her gold charm bracelet jangled on her wrist, her blue eyes bright as she smiled. “I’m Delilah.”
Wes shook her hand.
Hudson looked at Delilah as if she’d betrayed him. He didn’t stand. “We have questions,” he said tersely.
Delilah sat back down, resuming a businesslike disposition in her bubblegum pink lounge set.
Wes’s smile was easy-going and unperturbed. “I was told you might.”
I rolled my eyes at Hudson as I searched our cabinets for a vase for the flowers.
Hudson cleared his throat, as if prepping for his cross examination. “Are you aware Nova is ten years younger than you?”
Wes took a seat on a barstool and faced my roommates as I filled the vase with water. “Yes, I am aware of this fact.”
Hudson’s eyes narrowed. “Why might you have a difficult time finding women your own age to date?”
“Hudson,” I said pointedly, lifting my arms in a gesture that said, what the hell?
“I know a leading question when I hear one.” Wes’s lips tipped up in amusement, and I took a seat next to him. “I’ve dated women my age and older before as well.”
Delilah crossed her arms. “You date a lot then, Wes?”
Wes chuckled, placing a hand on my knee. “Your prosecution team is great, baby,” he said. His casual affection made my stomach flutter. He returned his attention to my roommates. “Not in recent years, no. I’m only dating Nova.”
I knew we weren’t officially exclusive, but the admission soothed me. I released a breath.
“Is it true that Nova is the only person from the cult you are in contact with outside of said cult happenings?” Hudson posed.
It was a clunky question, but a decent one. I eyed Wes, watching his face. It was smooth and non-reactive.
“Correct,” he said. “And I intend to keep it that way. In fact, I would prefer it if neither of us interacted with the group ever again.”
Delilah nodded, her face softening. She looked to Hudson, as if for approval.
But Hudson wasn’t nearly finished yet. “And what is the nature of the predilections that led you to a BDSM cult?”
“Objection,” I called out, shaking my head.
“Sustained,” Delilah said. She lightly elbowed Hudson.
“What are you objecting to?” Hudson scoffed. “I’m trying to make sure he’s not going to turn your skin into a lamp!”
I rolled my eyes.
“If that was my intention, I’m not sure that’s something I would disclose,” Wes said reasonably.
“We’re going to need to have your ID on file,” Hudson said. “Standard procedure for men Nova meets in sex cults for evil wealthy people—especially when said men have zero online presence.”
Wes’s face was suddenly unreadable, and I felt defensive of him as Hudson inadvertently struck a nerve with his dig at the rich.
“Okay, okay, we’ve entertained this long enough,” I said. “You’re not scanning Wes’s ID. I will continue to share my location with both of you so you will know where to find my skinless body.”
“I prefer your body intact,” Wes said, making me wrinkle my nose and giggle.
Delilah smiled. “That’s so romantic.” She sighed. “I’ve heard enough. I like him. He has good banter. And the age gap and Southern gentleman vibe is sooo Lana-coded.”
“Lana Del Rey,” I explained to Wes.
“Thank you, Gen Z, but I actually understood that reference,” Wes drawled. “Born to Die is one of the greatest albums of all time.”
Delilah’s entire face lit up with sheer delight. Hudson’s lips poised to call Wes a performative male, but I communicated with a wordless, pointed look that I’d truly had enough.
Hudson pressed his lips together. “I will be assessing you and how you make my best friend feel very closely.”
I smiled at Hudson’s use of the term best friend. What the world needed to understand about Hudson was that his outer shell was only a hater to protect his gooey, lover center.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Wes said. He kissed my temple, and we both moved to our feet. “I’d love for you both to join us at Third House tonight. They’re celebrating four years in business.”
“I can come for like an hour, and then I have a date,” Hudson said.
“Me too,” Delilah said. “Except I don’t have a date. I met a person named Goose at Brooklyn Harvest Market who invited me to a warehouse party in Bushwick.”
Wes grinned and looped his hand around my waist.
“Delilah…” Hudson and I said at the same time, preparing to tell her we were too old to be attending parties spearheaded by people named Goose from Bushwick.
“That is exactly the name of a person who should be throwing parties,” Wes said.
Delilah beamed and made a gesture with her hand as if to say, see?
Wes and I led my roommates out of the apartment and the rundown, roach-infested building. His fingers intertwined with mine as we headed north.
“Don’t fight me on this, but I got you a new phone,” he said, low to my ear as Hudson and Delilah lightheartedly bickered behind us. “They didn’t have your model at the store anymore, so I got the oldest one they had, in case that would help you feel more comfortable.”
I sighed. “I still feel very uncomfortable. But it needed to happen, and I can’t do it myself, so…” I looked down at our feet. “Thank you, Wes.”
“Of course. I just want you to be safe.”
I grounded myself in the firm, warm hold of his hand in mine and his familiar scent that I wanted all over me by the end of the night.
The rest of the walk, Hudson finally loosened up, finding common ground with Wes in music and film, just as I knew he would.
By the time we reached Third House, Wes had gotten Hudson to laugh. Hudson didn’t seem entirely pleased about it, but it was a major win.
“I get it,” Hudson said to me with a sigh when Wes had been stopped by yet another neighbor in the street. He glanced at Wes and then back to me.
I smiled. “I knew you would.”
“But he’s still a man, so be careful.”
I saluted him.
“This is Nova,” Wes said as I stepped toward him and away from Hudson. He introduced me to a fabulously dressed man in his fifties carrying a Pomeranian.
And that was the first of many introductions.
What I expected to be a quaint celebration in a cute neighborhood coffee shop was actually more of a block party.
Celebrants poured out of the coffee shop and into the street, some chatting on neighboring stoops or in limited outdoor seating.
The door to the shop was propped open, and a DJ spun records just inside for dancing patrons.
“Come on,” Wes said. “Into the chaos we must go.”
Hudson and Delilah had already found themselves in a group of people in their twenties loudly debating which astrological placements were the biggest red flags.
I caught a glimpse of Hudson tipping his head back with laughter and clutching a man’s arm.
Maybe he would be having two dates this weekend.
Delilah shared a cigarette with a goth woman in all black.
I focused back on Wes as he led me through the crowd and into the coffee shop. We had to squeeze through packed bodies to work our way to the bar.
“Oh my God, they’re playing Substance,” I squealed at Wes over the music and chatter, recognizing the New Order album immediately.
He glanced back at me with a smile. “You are so fucking sexy.”
“Wes!” a woman called.
The faces of everyone gathered behind and around the bar lit up when they saw us. It was the most delightful mix of ages and personal styles, giving me the distinct feeling there was no one in the world who didn’t belong here.
“This is Nova,” Wes said.
A few of the women’s faces sparked in recognition, and one of them stepped out from around the bar.
“Oh my God, we’ve heard so much about you. Are you a hugger?” she asked, already lifting her arms.
“Sure,” I said. I was neutral on hugs from strangers at best, but she’d passed the vibe check.
“I’m Ruby, the owner,” she said.
Her purple dress was accented by a black corset, matching the artful purple eyeshadow that glittered on her tan skin. Her black hair was impressively long and shiny.
Wes introduced me to the rest of the group. My stomach flooded with warmth at the understanding that Wes truly had told all of them about me. He kept a hand on me at all times, staying close, speaking so highly of me that my heart fucking melted.
“She’s brilliant,” he said to Ruby and the women closest to her, who I learned were the baristas. “I can’t wait to read what she’s working on now.”
My heart skipped a beat. I was terrified for Wes to read my next book, for him to understand how much my inner world had shifted since we’d met.
Ruby put a hand on her hip. “I told you to send me the book titles.”
“I didn’t need you all cyberstalking her before you’d met,” Wes said with a shake of his head. “Nova can decide for herself what she’d like to share.”
“They’re cozy romances,” I explained with a small shrug.
“Ooh, I love those,” Sienna, one of the baristas, said. She was striking, with a curly pixie cut and a tall, model-like frame.
I gave them the titles.
Ruby’s features lit up as if she’d remembered something. “Ooh, Nova, you have to come to the next artist salon. We’ve been hosting them every month. They’re for any type of artist to come be in community and discuss creativity, philosophy, and craft.”
Sienna nodded. “Yes, please come. We want to bring this style of dialogue back—inspired by the literary salons of the 17th and 18th centuries.”
“I’d love to,” I said. “That sounds amazing.”
Everything they talked about sounded amazing.
The warmth of the people gathered and the space itself was palpable.
Being here felt safe and familiar, like Ruby had built a sanctuary nestled between townhouses and small businesses.
I was in awe that I’d lived in North Brooklyn for nearly three years now and had never even heard of this place.
“Is Third House an astrology reference?”
“Yes. I have a third house stellium—three planets all in Leo. My Sun, Venus, and Mercury. The third house rules neighborhood, communication, writing, surroundings, and intellect. Hence, all of this,” Ruby explained, gesturing to the packed space of laughing, talking, dancing patrons.
“Do the stars explain Wes?” I asked teasingly.
“Oh, they sure fucking do,” Sienna said. “He has a twelfth house Scorpio stellium. It’s horrifying.”
Wes chuckled. “I already warned her I was a Scorpio.”
“It gets worse. His Moon and Venus are in there too,” Sienna said.
“Now that we know him, it’s cool. But those are the placements of an intense, broody, secretive man.
We had to force him to tell us about you the other day.
Once he cracked, he wouldn’t shut up about you, of course.
Then his Sag rising? Lord help us; talk about hot and cold. ”
“This all tracks with me.” I eyed him suspiciously. “Though I’m a Gemini, so I should probably stop talking so much shit.”
Wes gave my waist a playful squeeze. We locked eyes, and the room quieted and stilled.
For a moment, we were Just Wes and Just Nova, brought together by algorithms and stars.