Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Within the quiet and the routines of everyday life here, there are always these small moments that somehow make everything feel worth it. This past week unfolded to be full of them. From calls to lunch dates. My time has been split between work and Harrison.
Monday came dreadfully. After an amazing weekend, the idea of going back to my desk, pretending nothing had changed, felt almost cruel.
I could’ve stayed on my couch, in his arms, for the rest of my life without needing anything else.
He left Sunday night, despite my repeated (and embarrassingly clingy) attempts at making him stay.
But right on cue, like he knew I’d need the boost, he was outside my office the next day waiting for my lunch break. A little sunbeam breaking through the gray.
My excuses for sneaking out are growing less believable by the day. I started with a sweet and simple ‘I’m not very hungry’ and yesterday I hit rock bottom with ‘tummy troubles.’ It’s tragic, I know. I’m running out of ideas.
Harrison’s been using his free time to research small, tucked-away restaurants that are both walking distance from us and quiet enough to enjoy our time together.
It’s panned out almost every day. Our only misfire was an Indian spot that had gone viral online not too long ago, blessing it with a waiting line that almost turned the corner.
My favorite find has been Sunny’s Café. A tiny coffee shop, with five tables inside and two outside flanking the front door.
Run entirely by Martha, a silver-haired woman in her sixties who cooks, serves, and doesn’t know who Harrison is.
It’s intimate and peaceful and, if the BLT I ordered is anything to go by, secretly incredible.
I got an iced green tea too—and not the bitter kind.
My camera roll has become a quiet witness to all these new developments in my life. Harrison’s been more than the perfect model—he’s been gently nudging me to take the shot, to trust my eye again. I haven’t shown him a single photo he hasn’t loved, though I suspect he might be a little biased.
Everything has felt so mundane. If he wasn’t who he is—and if we weren’t hiding our situationship from everyone but Emma—I’d let myself believe this could be something real. Something with a future.
But I haven’t had the guts to bring up the topic. Living in a love bubble has been too addictive. Who doesn’t want their life to be like a movie?
The hopeless romantic in me is still wondering if this is even real. It’s hard to make sense of things when I can’t talk to anyone around me about us. Emma’s been trying her absolute best, but we’d be lying if we said that our schedules and time change haven’t been getting in the way.
And Claire… poor Claire. She’s been trying so hard to make me feel at home. Trying to bond, to chat. And all I’ve been able to give her back has been a few spare minutes and short, vague answers. I can tell she’s starting to get suspicious. If only she knew how much I want to tell her everything.
There’s this tiny voice in the back of my head lately, nagging me. Almost warning me to not make the same mistakes as I did with Noah.
Make friends. Enjoy the experience. Have a life outside of your romance.
Hence my current situation. It’s Tuesday. I’m at my desk, stuck in a loop, wondering if there’s any version of this secret that can coexist with everything else. And even though I could come up with a dozen reasons to not hang out with my coworkers… I don’t want to.
Luckily, everyone’s too busy to realize I’m going for lunch.
I ride the elevator to the lobby and briefly wonder how much trouble I’d get into if I were to press the emergency stop and lock myself in.
Harrison would probably still bring take-out, sit on the other side of the doors, and wait for someone to free me.
And as tempting as that escape plan is, I can’t lie another day. It has to be today. I have to talk to him.
We walk to Sunny’s again. I’m clinging to his arm, letting him lead the way while he talks about his latest meeting with his manager. I nod, hum, and agree—but I’m not really listening. It’s not until we’ve sat down and ordered that I finally take a look at him.
Our eyes lock, and he narrows his. I wonder how worried I look.
“So...” he says, smirking. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Hmm,” I murmur. “I’ve been... thinking.”
“That doesn’t sound promising coming from someone who usually has something smart to say,” he says, the smirk slipping into a frown.
“I’m just a bit preoccupied,” I say, trying to gather my thoughts at lightning speed. “Obviously, I like you. But I don’t want this whole experience to just be about… my relationship with a guy. I’ve been lying to my coworkers whenever I go out to lunch. It doesn’t feel healthy, and I––”
“Relationship?” he cuts in, brows raised. “Is that what you want?”
Of course, I’ve been assuming that I was already in one. Maybe not for him.
“I’m not looking for any labels,” I rush to say. “I know who you are. I know it’s not that simple. I just don’t want to go back home in a month and have nothing to show for it except a secret fling. I want friends. Memories. A solid camera roll that’s more than your godlike features.”
I exhale loudly.
“I guess I’m saying maybe we should cool it off a bit.”
“Cool it off,” he repeats slowly, like he’s testing the words for splinters. “Because you don’t want labels?”
“Yes.”
No, I think to myself.
“That’s too bad.”
What?
“Too bad?” I blink. He nods.
“Too bad because I’d take any label you’re willing to give me.”
“Wait a minute,” I say, trying to not get ahead of myself. “You mean like date date?”
“I mean that if you want me, I’m yours. Officially.”
The butterflies in my stomach stage a full-blown Cirque du Soleil routine.
“But what about work? My coworkers?”
“I don’t care,” he says. “Tell them. Tell the whole world. Tell them I’m dating the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”
I actually feel myself blush. “Aren’t you scared of the press?”
“There are a lot of things about this that scare me,” he says, and his voice drops into something softer. “I’m scared you’ll change your mind. I’m terrified I’ll lose you. But I’m not scared of them.”
Something inside me tightens and loosens at once. He ponders for a beat before continuing.
“It won’t be easy. Especially once I go back to work. People can get nasty—I’m sure they will be. But if this is something that you want… I promise to always be there for you. I’ll be honest. I’ll love you so hard you’ll never doubt what we have is real.”
There it is.
The L word. Maybe it slipped. Maybe it didn’t. But I heard it.
“So, we’re dating,” I say for clarification. “For real.”
“There’s nothing I want more.” His smile stretches from ear to ear. His blue eyes have never glistened more.
“I’m dating the Joshua Harrison,” I laugh, half-dazed.
“Yes,” he says proudly. “Say hello to my girlfriend, Julia Thomas.”
He takes my hand and plants a sweet, slow kiss on top. Sealing it.
“It’s hard to believe this is happening,” I whisper, still nervous but for different reasons. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
He leans across the small table, lips brushing my ear.
“I’m sure you’ll realize how good an idea it is when I finally get you into my bed.”
Leaving with the peace of knowing everyone’s on their lunch break means returning to find all of them sitting at their desks.
I’ve been tingling with excitement about telling Claire. Harrison insisted—multiple times—that he’s totally fine with it. Now my brain is threatening to take over and spew out words without control before I’ve even reached her.
I’m a sucker for gossip, even when it’s mine.
“Look who’s back!” she says. I crouch beside her desk, gripping the edge so I don’t tower over her for the whole office to see. “Out again with the mystery boyfriend?”
“Actually… yes.”
Her mouth drops open. Fair—after weeks of denying anything, this is the last thing she expected.
“And I’m finally allowed to tell you everything.”
“Allowed? What do you mean?”
“My place for dinner,” I say. “I’ll explain everything then.”
After a few hours and roughly two dozen failed interrogation attempts, we finally arrive at my apartment. I hand her the family-size pizza we picked up on the way and unlock the door.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, setting the cardboard box on the coffee table. While she kicks off her shoes and flops onto the couch, I grab two plates and some wine.
I hand her a glass. “You’re going to need this.”
“Who’s the mystery man that you’ve been hiding away?”
“Well,” I begin, “after my first day at the office, I got caught in the rain and ducked into that bar we went to once.”
She gasps. “Please, tell me you’re not dating the bartender. He’s charming, sure, but Julia—he doubles your age.”
“Oh, no! God, no.” I shudder at the mental image. “That’s just Tony. There was someone else there that night. Someone I’d honestly be shocked if you didn’t know.”
Her brows knit together. “Who? Like… a famous influencer or something?”
I shake my head. “His name is Joshua,” I say carefully. “Joshua Harrison.”
Her jaw drops. The slice of pizza she’s holding freezes midair, mozzarella dangling like it’s in slow motion.
“You mean… the Joshua Harrison? Like, the actor?”
I nod.
“What in the bloody hell,” she breathes.
“I know!” I cover my face, suddenly hyper-aware of how insane it sounds out loud. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”
“All this time I thought you were sneaking around with Phil from accounting!” she cackles. “Julia. Julia. You’re dating one of the hottest men alive. Are you even aware?”
“I am now,” I say, cheeks burning.
“I need every detail. Every. Even the juicy ones.” She sets down her plate and leans in like we’re about to start planning a heist. “The closest I’ve come to a Hollywood romance is matching with someone who said they once catered a Netflix premiere.”
“Fair,” I say, standing. “But for that…we’re going to need more wine.”