19. Lucienne
Monday, October 30th
When it rains, it pours. And it’s literally pouring.
Because I was going stir crazy in my apartment, I left to meet Jude at the coffee shop early. I don’t know why I asked to meet him here. It felt safe for some reason. Halfway there, the sky opened and I got stuck in a torrential downpour. All the effort I put into looking like a functioning human being has been for nothing.
My hair is wet and as it dries, my curls multiply tenfold. It looks like a bird’s nest or a tumbleweed, one of the two. My patchwork dress is heavy. It was so wet, I had to wring it out in the bathroom when I arrived.
A wet rat. That’s what I look like.
I woke up in a cold sweat this morning at the thought of seeing Jude today. He agreed to meet me and talk, and we haven’t spoken since. I couldn’t even get in touch with Colette yesterday, so I was left alone with my thoughts.
She is always attached to her phone, but my guess is she was with Zade. Though I want to lean on her, I’m trying to handle this on my own. I know I’m strong, even though I don’t like to be.
There is a way through this, and I need to find it on my own. But I guess there’s no harm in seeking some reassurance. I grab my phone and text her.
Lucienne:Meeting with Jude in 30 minutes. Wish me luck.
Her reply only takes seconds.
Colette: It’ll be fine. Trust me.
Lucienne:Whatever you say 3
Colette:Damn straight. I’ve been wrong before, but not this time.
That’s good enough for me. I’ve always trusted her and I’m starting to trust myself, just a bit. It’s quiet in the little corner coffee shop. The rain likely kept the large crowds away, but a handful of people are seated at the small café tables.
The blast of heat mixed with the smell of roasted coffee beans and vanilla when I walked in felt like a warm embrace. But it doesn’t compare to cedarwood bear hugs from Jude and I hope I can have one of those again. I tap my fingers on the wood tabletop restlessly.
The barista approaches my table, wiping her hands on her apron. “Here’s your coffee, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” I nod.
The cup burns in my hands, but I hold it tight and let the warmth travel up my arms. My sweater clings to my skin and I shudder. I’m chilled to the bone, soaking wet, and lovesick. There’s a chance I could actually get sick after letting myself freeze in the fall rain.
“If you need anything else, just give me a shout,” says the barista from behind the counter.
I give her a quick smile, coffee in hand. “I will. Thank you again.”
She’s probably wondering if I’m okay since I’ve been sitting here eagerly looking out the big picture window for thirty minutes. Everyone else is either nestled up in squashy armchairs with a book, chatting away while sipping their hot beverages, and then there’s me. I haven’t stopped bouncing my foot, which is becoming tiresome, and my lip is almost chewed raw.
It’s such a strange combination of feelings, desperately wanting to see him and also wanting to run at the sight of him. The letter, somehow, stayed completely dry. I run my finger along the envelope seam, bending the corner subtly. Last night, I ripped it open and reread it several times before resealing it. It needs to be enough.
The bell over the door chimes and I whip around to find a damp Jude standing in the doorway. His jeans are darkened by the rain and his flannel jacket looks plush and warm. The bun at the back of his head is messy and his beard—his beard is a full beard. It’s a mess of honey brown tangles that wrap around his upper lip and his jaw.
There’s never been a time when he hasn’t left me breathless.
When he sees me, his expression softens, that anxious crease in his forehead barely visible. It’s as if seeing me allowed his body to relax—at least, that’s what I want to believe. He strides over, his boots squeaking against the wooden floors, and I stand before he reaches the table.
The gesture is absentminded. I’m drawn to him, but I stop myself from reaching out. I hold my hands at my sides and our eyes lock. He’s standing so still, waiting for me to make the next move. I sit back down and smooth out my dress, then clasp my hands together on the table.
He doesn’t move. He watches me with a look of disorientation etched on every part of his face. My heart breaks a little more seeing him like this, tiptoeing around me and questioning his every move. I didn’t think there was anything left that could break at this point.
“Please sit down with me, Jude.” I motion to the seat across from me.
He shrugs out of his jacket and sits, letting out an exasperated sigh. We’re back where we started, embarrassed glances and awkward movements, dancing around each other to avoid whatever comes next. His green eyes seem to have lost their glimmer against the dark circles beneath them.
“H-how have you been?” I ask, my voice shaking. We’ve been reduced to small talk. I hate small talk, but I’m holding on to whatever I can.
His eyes lock on mine and he gives me a small smile, just enough for that dimple to show.
I love that dimple. That’s my dimple.
“I’ve been worried, but I suppose I’m alright,” he says, clearing his throat.
“What have you been worried about?”
“I’ve been worried about you, Lucienne.”
As broken and worn as he looks, hearing those words makes me happy. He will always be a source of my happiness. Only a few days without him and I had forgotten what it felt like.
“I’m not—I’m not good at this, Jude. I—what I’m trying—there are things I want—” I’m stammering, my words starting to become jumbled. This is why I wrote that damn letter and I squeeze it tight in my pocket.
He peers at me. “Are you cold? You’re soaking wet—”
“Here.” I shove the letter into his hands.
He doesn’t look down right away. Instead, he stares at me and wraps his fingers around the envelope. His hand brushes over my knuckles and I hold my breath.
“What’s this?” he asks. He holds it in his hands as if it’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He runs his finger along the fold delicately, as if wondering what it contains.
“P-please read it. I—I was going to read it out loud, b-but I can’t. Please just read it,” I whisper.
He rips open the envelope and unfolds the letter. Before he starts, he looks at me and I almost fall out of my chair. The look in his eyes is nothing but tenderness. I recognize the man behind those eyes. I need to be brave and trust myself. Trust us.
“W-will you hold my hand while you read it?” I ask.
Jude doesn’t answer me. He reaches for my hand and grasps it gently. He rubs the back of my hand with his thumb, and I can feel tears pooling in my eyes. He needs to read this before I lose it completely. He clears his throat and starts to read.
“Jude, I’m still learning to use my words, to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. I’ve never been good at it, but I’m trying. I wrote this letter to tell you that I think this whole time, I’ve been falling in love with you.” His bottom lip quivers and I place my other hand on top of his.
“You took me by surprise and the world has been brighter since you came along. It wasn’t something I was expecting, and I was so scared to let you care for me the way you do, so entirely, so incredibly, so intentionally. But you’ve made me realize what I’m capable of, who I can be, and what I have to offer this world. What I have to offer to those I love and who love me in return.”
He places the letter down to wipe his eyes. He tried to hide it, but he’s crying. I feel a tear escape and roll down my cheek.
He’s so beautiful, so miraculously Jude.
“Your heart is unlike any I’ve ever encountered before and one I will never encounter again. I hope I can hold onto it for safekeeping. Yours and only yours, Lucienne.”
Our hands are still intertwined and warm. My heart is on the table, waiting to see if he’ll pick it up and put it back together. I’ve survived the leap; now let’s see if I’ll survive the fall.
He brings our hands to his lips and closes his eyes. “I’m so sorry I let you think I would do anything to hurt you, Lucienne. I—I’m so—I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You didn’t do that. I did that. All you’ve ever done is show me love, Jude. It just took me a while to see it, to accept it,” I whisper.
Then he laughs. A warm, breathy laugh against my fingers. “I don’t care how long it would have taken, beautiful. I would have waited for you.”
And I know he would have. How I ever thought I had somehow pushed this man out of my life—it isn’t fathomable.
He never went anywhere.
“You’re not the only one with an envelope,” he says. “I kept myself busy the past few days. My own love letter, I suppose.” He digs into his jacket and pulls out a large envelope, placing it on the table and sliding it toward me.
I look from him to the envelope and back. My arms won’t work and my lips are pressed tightly together. Jude brings our hands to the sealed flap and rips it open with his forefinger.
“I can’t read this one to you, Lucienne. You’ll need to read it yourself. Do you trust me?” He smiles.
I nod, unable to hold the tears back any longer. He cradles my face in his hand and wipes the tears from my eyes with his thumb. I plant a kiss in his palm.
There is a thick stack of papers and the first thing I see is an accepted application for an LLC. All the wind leaves my lungs and I can’t see through the tears. I can’t process what I’m reading, but I continue to flip through the documents. Client contracts, testimonials, financial documents.
“W-What is all of this?” I ask.
“It’s under my name for now, but I—you’re so amazing, Lucienne. I spent our days apart getting in touch with former Wilder designers, developers, clients, and started an LLC. It’s a web design company and I—it’s for you. Create the way you want to create, beautiful. Show the world what you’re made of, yeah? And I’ll be there to make sure it all runs smoothly. Oh, and Colette. If you’re wondering, she’s in on this too,” he laughs.
It feels like I’m floating, unable to touch solid ground. All other noises around me are drowned out by the white noise buzzing in my ears.
“These people admire your work; they love what you do. They believe in you, like I believe in you. Let’s do it, beautiful.”
He started a company for me. He believes in me so irrevocably that he spent days talking to my former colleagues and clients to create a team, to give me something to make my own.
“You d-did this for me?” I gasp.
“We can start next week. I sent in my resignation this morning. Come on this adventure with me?”
My hands are shaking and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I grab the envelope, find my footing, and start to run out of the coffee shop. I hear the bell chime above my head as the rain hits my face. Jude is on my heels and when I turn around, I collapse against his chest.
His arms are around me and the scent of cedarwood floods my senses. “I’ve got you, Lucienne. I’ve got you. If you run, I’ll follow.” He rests his chin on my head.
Even though I’m sniffling in his arms, I’m smiling. I can do this. We can do this, together. I’m scared out of my mind, but he’s here. I’m in his arms in the cool fall rain and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“I’ve never been kissed in the rain,” I sob.
His hand comes beneath my chin as he lifts my head. Then he kisses me. It’s not urgent; it isn’t hungry; it’s soft. It’s as if he’s savoring every moment we’re connected to one another. I stand up on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck.
“That’s something I didn’t know. Tell me more,” he whispers.
Our foreheads are pressed together, the rain dripping off our noses, our chins. Jude Carr is in my arms again.
“I wore this dress on the day we met,” I whisper.
He laughs, bunching my dress in his hand and kissing the corner of my mouth. “With that olive green cardigan and black tights. Covered in expensive coffee, I think it was.”
“I want to do this with you. I want to do everything with you, Jude.” And I do, with every fiber of my being, I want Jude Carr.
“Are you saying you want to work with me again, Lucienne Amato?” he laughs.
“So long as we’re always on the same team.”
“Always, beautiful. Always.”