Chapter 22
twenty-two
Josh and I tiptoed around the apartment, talking to each other in only pleasantries, for if we did any more, one of us would suddenly be on the edge of tearing the other’s clothes off.
Now I was thinking about tearing his clothes off.
No. I needed to get back on track.
Getting on track with my life included continuing my schedule of two more dates, which had felt like I was being locked in a torture chamber. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice, though they each had their quirks. They were just…not Josh.
I took a deep breath as I smoothed out the black sweater dress I’d put on for Gina’s first big art show opening. Since her work friends would already be there, answering questions and making sure everything ran smoothly, she had given Josh and me her two complimentary tickets.
“I just can’t believe that none of your dates were winners,” she said as she got ready for the big night. She lined her lips and applied a light sheen of lip gloss. “Or at least went into a second date.”
I glanced at her. “You’ve heard how they went.”
“I know …” She hesitated. “Are you sure you’ve been giving them a good chance? You’re not just humoring me?”
I sighed. “Yes, Gina.”
“Don’t give me that. I’m being serious, but I also just want you to be happy. I appreciate that you’re getting out there, and honestly, that was the main point for the dates.”
“What do you mean?”
“Would it be freaking amazing for you to fall in love and have this great story? Of course. But it’s also good to see you getting out of the house and kind of getting your spark back.”
“My spark?”
“Yeah. I mean, not that you lost it. Just—you know what? I don’t know what I’m saying.
I feel like when we moved back in together, you were kind of serious and quiet and—you were stressed, I know.
But lately, you’ve looked happier. Lighter.
Maybe it’s that you are writing again too. Writing actual fun stuff.”
Or a few other things.
“You might be right.” If anything, I did feel a bit less … stressed, like I had been before. Especially now that no new jobs were being posted anywhere for the rest of the year, it looked like.
“I really like that dress on you.”
I glanced down at the simple dress. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”
“You didn’t.”
“I’m just so excited to have my friend here and now I’ll finally have less work all the time so that we can celebrate the end of the year together. You’re the best, and you always cheer me on.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in the mirror. “Love you, Bri.”
I smiled faintly, grateful for Gina’s attempt to lift my spirits. “Love you too, Gi.”
The art show was already in full swing by the time we arrived.
The gallery buzzed with conversation and the soft clinking of glasses—which were filled with slightly better than decent sparkling wine—echoing off the stark white walls.
Light reflected off gilded frames and glossy canvas textures, creating a warm glow across the sea of people in curated coats and careful shoes.
Almost immediately, Gina was swept into a tide of colleagues and admirers, disappearing with a beaming laugh and a glass already half empty. That left Josh and me standing by the entrance, hands awkwardly stuffed into pockets until the tray of wine got to us, each of us taking one.
I held my glass in both hands as his eyes settled on me, like a weight. A silent question. A thread pulled taut and fraying between us.
“I meant to make time before this to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sorry,” Josh said quietly. His voice barely cut through the ambient hum of the room, but it still landed square in my chest. “I never meant for things to get this complicated between us.”
“You didn’t make anything get complicated,” I said quickly—too quickly. “I mean …”
“We need to talk. I can’t just let this hang like it doesn’t matter.” His hands shifted deeper into the pockets of his dress pants, his jaw tightening. “I can’t stand you ignoring me now. I didn’t upset you, did I?”
“No,” I said, the word catching in my throat. “Of course not.”
“Because if I did—”
“You didn’t.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t believe me.
Before I could say anything more, Gina reappeared, her energy like a gust of wind as she slipped between us, entirely oblivious to the storm we were standing in.
“Hey there!” she chirped, eyes bright as she scanned our faces. “How are you two enjoying it?”
“It’s amazing, Gina,” I said, forcing a smile as I glanced around the gallery. “It’s crazy to think you helped put all this together.”
She grinned, satisfied. “Right? And to think people said an art history degree was basically useless.”
Josh huffed a short laugh and shook his head. “It’s really impressive, Gina. Thanks for inviting us.”
“Well,” she said with a teasing scrunch of her nose, “I really just wanted Bri to come, but I didn’t want to be rude by leaving you out.”
“Appreciate that,” Josh muttered, barely masking the edge in his voice.
But Gina was already turning back to me. “Come on. I have someone I want you to meet.”
She grabbed my wrist and tugged me through the sea of guests. I stumbled for a moment, glancing over my shoulder just in time to catch Josh tipping back the rest of his drink, watching us with unreadable eyes.
We weaved past art collectors and press badges, between stretched canvases and minimalist sculptures.
My nerves buzzed. Every step away from Josh made my thoughts louder, less manageable.
When we finally stopped, Gina tugged me to a halt in front of a tall, clean-cut man in a navy blazer, who was sipping from a stemless glass of red.
“Brielle, this is Alex. He helped support the show and apparently has a thing for books. So, obviously, I thought of you.”
“Alex,” I repeated dumbly, blinking as he offered his hand.
He smiled warmly, showing off straight teeth and a hint of a dimple. “It’s great to meet you. Gina’s told me a lot about you.”
I shot her a sideways glance. “A lot?”
She held up a hand. “An appropriate amount. Nothing that’ll ruin your mystique.”
Alex chuckled, his grip firm and easy. “She undersold it, honestly.”
We fell into casual conversation about the show and books we’d both read. He asked about my writing, my newsletter, the kind of things I liked to explore in my work. It was easy. Comfortable even.
I knew Gina was watching from somewhere with smug satisfaction, probably thinking she was doing me a favor.
But I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder.
Josh stood across the gallery, half-heartedly chatting with one of Gina’s friends. He was angled just enough to keep me in view.
He was watching.
I hated how much I noticed that.
Alex walked me over to another piece. In front of us hung an oil painting in heavy color blocks that didn’t seem to have a focal point.
I found myself nodding to whatever he was saying while counting the seconds until Josh moved again.
And he did. Around another corner, like a ghost trailing just a little too close.
“You okay?” Alex asked gently.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I said, faking a laugh. “Just trying to take everything in.”
“It’s a lot. And honestly? I’m impressed by anyone who can navigate this kind of thing without wanting to hide in the corner.”
I smiled at that. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
We chatted a bit more, his questions thoughtful and his laughter easy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling crawling up my spine or the sight of Josh following us around the gallery.
Then came his voice behind me, low and firm.
“Sorry, need to steal her.”
I turned, unsurprised. “Josh.”
Alex blinked, his eyebrows lifting a little. “No problem. I’ll catch up with you later?”
“Sure,” I said a little too quickly.
Josh barely waited for Alex to turn away before speaking. “I couldn’t watch that anymore.”
I arched a brow. “Watch what exactly?”
His jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer.
Neither did I. Not yet.
We stood there, in the middle of other people’s art and other people’s conversations, still stuck in the silence between whatever we were and whatever we weren’t ready to be.
“He wasn’t that bad. He was thoughtful and has passion for what he does,” I said. “I get that.”
“Sounds exciting.”
I huffed, looking around for Gina, though she, too, was nowhere to be found. Right now, as Josh held me to his side, I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Good, because it felt so so good.
Bad, well, because of everything else.
I thought maybe by the time we reached the far end of the gallery, he’d stop leading me, but he didn’t.
We kept drifting—his hand at my elbow, then not—until we ended up at a narrow hallway near the catering station.
Servers moved in and out with trays of empty flutes and shrimp skewers, casting us quick, curious glances as they passed.
One waitress raised her eyebrows at us before turning on her heel, no doubt eager to whisper to someone about the almost couple lingering by the storage door.
Even though we weren’t a couple.
I closed my eyes for a moment and reminded myself of that.
“What are you doing?” I asked quietly.
“Talking.”
I glanced around again. “Here?”
“It’s the only place you won’t pretend I’m not standing next to you.”
That wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t wrong either.
“Okay,” I said, breath hitching. “Talk.”
“You haven’t been talking to me.”
“I’m talking to you now.”
“You know what I mean, Bri.”
I sighed.
“Fine. Then just tell me why we can’t …”
“Can’t what?”
“Be together,” Josh said. “I kept waiting for you to talk with me again after the other night and then you just ignored me completely again.”
“That’s not what I was trying to do,” I said.
“Wasn’t it?”
“No. Not exactly.”
Josh blinked, but his voice didn’t hesitate. “I don’t think I need to remind you just how much I like you and want to be with you now, but I can. Do you want me to?”
I wanted him to say it again and again until it rewrote all the memories of him walking away. “I’m scared.”
His chest bowed as he let out a deep breath, a small smile on his lips. “That’s ok. So am I, but I’m told in life that’s what makes it’s worthwhile, isn’t it?”
Coming from the guy that just last year was traveling the world and skydiving.
“What if …”
“What if what?” he asked, though we both already knew. “What if Gina finds out? Honestly, I feel like my sister couldn’t be more oblivious to anything that isn’t about her right now. I think we’re safe.”
I folded my arms, glaring. “Don’t be a jerk. I was her friend first.”
“I know,” he said, softer this time. “I’m sorry. I just … I’ve been trying to talk to you for days. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Because it’s the only thing I can think to do. So this can all just … pass.”
“I told you,” he said, stepping closer, “you’re not something I want to get out of my system, Brielle.”
“We could still—”
“Try?” he interrupted. “No. Even that kiss was enough to tell me that if I ever get to kiss you again, I want everything. I want all of it. All of you.”
The words made something in my chest crack open. Joy and fear and a deep ache tangled together, sparking like faulty wiring.
He reached out, tentative. “Just give me a chance. One that’s on your terms. You can even kiss me and then tell me it was a mistake after. Say I’m terrible at it. That I misread everything. But let this be yours. Not mine. Not anyone else’s.”
My voice was barely above a whisper. “What are we even doing?”
“Are you really going to make me say it again?”
“My friendship with your sister …”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I don’t care what she thinks.”
“I do,” I said, and I hated the tremble in my voice. “I care. A lot.”
Josh studied me like he was trying to memorize something. Like maybe if he stared long enough, I’d say something different.
“Then you’ve made your decision?” he asked quietly.
“I think … I think I have to.”
He sucked on the inside of his cheek, trying not to react.
“Are you doing this to get back at me?” he asked. “For what happened at Christmas. That night.”
“I thought you said you didn’t remember.”
“Of course I remember. You told me how you felt, and I shut you down like a goddamn idiot. I was scared then. I was a coward. But I’m not anymore. I’m here. I’m trying.”
His voice cracked a little, and that somehow made it worse.
“I’m willing to be brave now, Brielle. But I need you to be brave with me. Because we can’t control how anyone else reacts—not Gina, not anyone. We only get to choose us.”
But I wasn’t so sure I could.
I didn’t have a job. I barely had a social circle in this city. And now Josh was asking me to risk the one stable thing that had remained through all of it—his family, Gina, the holidays, the safety of the role I played in their lives.
I couldn’t shake the voice in the back of my head. The one that asked, What happens when he leaves again? What happens when he decides he can’t stay?
Because people always seemed to leave.
My jaw trembled. I tried to answer, but couldn’t find the words.
Josh waited. And when I didn’t speak, he slowly nodded.
“All right,” he whispered.
“Josh …”
He paused.
“I can’t lose her,” I said finally. “You don’t get it. You and Gina and your family are the only constant I’ve had.”
“I’ll still be here,” he said. “But …”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
I looked down at my nails, red polish already chipped at the edges, and focused on breathing. Anything to stop the tears from coming.
But when I lifted my head, Josh was gone.
Quiet tears tracked down my cheeks anyway.