Forty-five
Danica
I sip my coffee, the steam curling up like whispers, and let my gaze drift over the cityscape through the loft’s large windows. Right now the buildings are dotted with holiday lights. I’ve grown to love San Francisco, with its rolling fogs and vibrant pulse, much like I’ve grown to love Austin.
The two months since Austin and I reconnected have been amazing, more than I ever imagined was possible. Despite everything Nancy did to keep us apart, and despite what I knew about long-term relationships, Austin and I belong together. Unfortunately, his relationship with his mother has thus far been a casualty since she refuses to apologize, but I hope in time that might change.
With Austin in my life, everything is brighter, more intense, more real. We laugh so hard my stomach aches, and when he looks at me, he sees right into my soul. He’s become my unexpected port in a storm, someone I can trust in a way I never thought I would.
But that’s not to say everything is perfect. Anna’s loft has been a sanctuary, but it’s not mine, and she’s returning in three weeks. Time is slipping through my fingers. I need to find a place of my own.
My job at SHN is solid. But what good is that when you’re homeless? And I’m not ready to move in with Austin. I trust him, but I won’t lose sight of myself, and I refuse to let my current instability define me. I need to find my way on my own before I make choices about living together. Then it will truly be a choice.
My phone buzzes on the table, a text from Austin lighting up the screen. A smile tugs at my lips as I read his words.
Austin: Good morning. You’re going to find your new home today. I’m sure of it.
I nod. Today’s mission is clear—find an apartment. A haven. A space that is unequivocally mine. I stand, stretching out the tension in my muscles, and move to my makeshift desk in the corner, where a list awaits me.
Ten places. Ten chances to secure a future here. I won’t end up on Marisa’s couch. I can’t. My independence is non-negotiable. And with that, I gather my things and get going.
The early-morning fog clings to the streets as the rideshare drops me at Early to Rise. Inside, the warmth hits me first, followed by the comforting aroma of coffee and toasted bread. It seems I beat Marisa. I snag our regular booth—the one with the view of the busy street—and signal for coffee while I wait for her.
I study the map of all the places we need to go, and in my periphery, I notice a large body sliding into the booth opposite me. I look up, surprised to find Austin, his eyes carrying a spark of mischief.
“Marisa’s tied up with her boyfriend, so looks like you’ve got me today,” he says.
“You want to look at apartments with me?” I quirk an eyebrow as I accept the coffee the server sets down. “You realize my budget is significantly less than yours, and we’re not at that let’s-move-in-together stage, right?”
“Absolutely,” he replies, seeming unfazed. “But I can’t let you navigate the treacherous waters of real estate alone. Think of me as your...personal bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” I chuckle, shaking my head as I mark the best route from place to place on the map. “You planning on fending off aggressive landlords or just the high prices?”
“Both if necessary.” He leans back, watching me with an attentive gaze. “And who knows, maybe I’ll get some ideas for when it’s time for us to...” He trails off.
“Time for us to what, exactly?” I ask, deliberately keeping it light. We both know it’s too soon, but the flutter in my chest wonders what if ?
“Let’s focus on finding you a place,” he says, steering us back on track. “I promise, no pressure. Just support.”
“Support, huh?” I rest my chin in my hand. “Well, Mr. Bodyguard, let’s see how supportive you can be when we hit the ground running after breakfast.”
“Challenge accepted,” he declares.
Austin traces the lines of my carefully curated list, scanning each address with a physicist’s precision. Then he reaches for the pen clipped to the spine of my notebook. “This one, at the corner of Eighteenth and Castro? No good. It’s like living in the middle of a beehive—constant buzz, no peace.” He strikes through that listing with a definitive scratch. “No laundry or parking either.”
He continues down the list, each rejection accompanied by a reason I can’t argue with. The pen makes quick work of four more addresses. “These two are sandwiched between rough neighborhoods. I’m not letting you live there.”
I want to protest, but the finality in his voice isn’t commanding, it’s caring.
I lean back against the worn leather of the booth, biting my lip as our options dwindle to two. “You know, if those places are any good, they’re probably already snapped up.”
He meets my gaze, steady and sure. “We’ll find something today. Somewhere safe, somewhere you’ll have your space. And that’s imperative, because I plan on being around a lot...if you want me there, of course.”
“Of course I do,” I say, getting lost for a moment in those earnest eyes.
The server comes over, pad in hand, ready to take our order. Austin requests an assembly line of breakfast foods that would fuel a marathon. “Eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns,” he lists, and I imagine the kitchen firing up in response.
“Show off,” I tease. “Eggs benedict, please.” As I hand back the menu, my gaze returns to Austin. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me—a mix of adoration and something fiercer, like determination—that warms me from the inside out.
“I love you,” he says casually, as if commenting on the weather, but the weight behind the words tugs at my heartstrings. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it thrills me just the same.
“Love you too,” I reply, warm and fuzzies doing a jittery dance in my belly. It’s almost enough to make me forget the daunting task ahead. Almost .
After a few minutes, our breakfast is delivered, and we catch up as we eat.
Austin finishes a large bite of eggs and pancake. “We got some bad news about Justin this morning.”
I pause.
“Turns out the lead on Justin’s location was a false alarm. Wasn’t him…or that’s not where he was, at least.” He runs a hand through his dark hair. “I just want to know he’s okay, you know? He doesn’t have to come back to EnergiFusion, but...” He shakes his head.
“What happened?” I ask. “With the lead, I mean.”
“Clear Security sent a guy in where they thought the computer was being used. But Justin wasn’t there. They couldn’t get the exact IP address, so now Jim’s team is saying it was spoofed.”
“What does that mean?”
“Justin’s faking his IP address, or someone is, I guess. I feel like if someone took him, we’d have heard from them by now. Some sort of ransom demand… I don’t know. It all just seems ridiculous. But here we are.”
I think for a moment. “Was Justin always technical? With computers, I mean. I would think something like that’s pretty hard to do unless you know how.”
“We all took electrical engineering classes in school, and we changed our IP addresses a few times playing around as hackers.” Austin scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m just worried about him. Why would he have to do that? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
I reach across the table, covering his hand with mine. Although I’ve never met Justin, the ache in Austin’s voice is enough for me to understand. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze.
He offers a weak smile and returns the gesture, then shakes his head as if to clear it. “Enough about that. Let’s go tackle that housing list of yours.”
We finish our food, and when we step outside, Austin leads me to his Mercedes parked at the curb, glancing at the first address on my now-streamlined list. “This one’s way out in the Avenues, at the far end of Golden Gate Park,” he warns. “That area’s locked in fog year around.”
“Could be cozy?” I suggest hopefully.
“Let’s find out.”
The drive is quiet and much longer than I expected. The bus ride will easily be an hour or more. We’re mostly lost in our own thoughts until the charming house comes into view, shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. It feels like driving into a cloud. This has potential , I tell myself. But then I step out onto the sidewalk and almost immediately slip on the slick moss underfoot.
“Be careful,” Austin cautions, taking my arm as we navigate to the small guesthouse waiting quietly behind the main residence.
Upon entering, the musty scent hits me hard, and my heart sinks further when I spot mold creeping along the wall like an unwanted intruder. The kind owner chats away, oblivious to my internal crisis. I manage polite thanks and a tight-lipped smile, but as soon as we’re back outside, the dam breaks.
“Austin, what if I never find a place?” My voice cracks, betraying the fear of being left adrift again.
“Hey,” he says, turning to face me. “You will. We’ll make sure of it.”
“Thanks for believing. At least one of us should,” I say with a sniffle, trying to laugh it off. But I’m not sure how many more disappointments I can take before hope fades completely.
We get back in the car, and Austin looks at my list and starts driving. I stare out the window, my mind buzzing, and then the loft building looms above us like a sanctuary.
“I know there’s another place to see, but let’s just talk for a minute,” he says.
“Okay?” I say, my mind still whirling from the disappointment of the mold-infested guesthouse.
He guides me inside and opens the door to his loft with a flourish, revealing the high ceilings and expansive windows that bathe the space in a warm, inviting light. “What if you moved in here?” he suggests, gesturing around the room
“Here? We’ve already said it’s too early to move in together.”
“Until you’re ready for the house on Alamo Square, you can rent the loft,” he explains, watching me closely. “I don’t need this space the way I used to, so it’s available. No pressure, no rush. You’d be doing me a favor, keeping the place lived in.”
My heart leaps, but the offer feels too generous, too intimate for our burgeoning relationship. My pulse races as I weigh the implications. “Austin, what if we break up? What then?”
He frowns. “Why would we break up? What am I doing wrong?”
“It’s not you,” I admit, picking at the hem of my shirt, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “But nothing comes with a guarantee. And I worry about your mother. She worked so hard to keep us apart. Have you talked to her since?”
His jaw tightens, and he looks away. “I haven’t spoken to her much, no. She’s not ready to have a real conversation, acknowledge what she did. But why does that matter?”
“Because family is important,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I don’t agree with what she did, but she loves you. And I love you too.” A pause fills the room. “Maybe it’s time to mend fences?”
He mulls it over, his eyes darkening. “I’ll think about it,” he concedes, turning back to me. “So, what do you say? Will you move in here? It would be a business transaction, of course. Even if something happened to us personally, we would honor the arrangement we’ve agreed on.”
I study him a moment. I want to be independent, but that doesn’t mean stupid. I managed this situation with Anna. Surely, I can manage it with him as well. “Only if I’m paying my way,” I insist.
“Deal,” he agrees with a nod, his eyes warm. “Welcome home, Danica.”