Chapter 34
The next day, Sunday, is a gorgeous one: cloudless blue skies and just a taste of early autumn in the air. I peer out of my apartment windows. It’s my favorite kind of day. And it’s supremely unfair that I should have one of these when everything is in shambles.
I march to my coffee machine, slippers shuffling along through the boxes in my living room, and go through the motions, making myself some liquid fortitude.
I sip from my mug and take in my apartment.
The symbol of my first chapter away from my mom.
Breaking free… Maybe not as cleanly as I thought.
But I loved it. It loved me back. Right now, though?
I don’t feel anything for this place other than a twinge of nostalgia.
This apartment was once home. That’s all.
I check my phone. Jack hasn’t responded to a single text. I toss it down and settle on the sofa, half-heartedly committed to reading the rest of The Pirate Duke’s Revenge and then doing what I need to do.
I’m rereading the same page for the tenth time when my buzzer sounds. I set my mug down and unfold myself from my couch cocoon, frowning as I pad to the intercom.
“Who is it?”
There’s no response, so I don’t buzz whoever it is into the building. Last time someone did that, we had a fun package thief make off with tons of stuff.
I’m about to settle back onto the sofa when there’s a knock on my door. I open it, and my heart goes supernova.
Jack.
I open my mouth but can’t seem to get any words out. Instead, my eyes dart everywhere, frantically taking in every feature, from his furrowed brow to his fingers flexing at his side. The eye patch is gone, which causes me a moment of sadness, as do the shadows under his eyes.
“Before you say anything, I need to tell you something,” he begins.
“You didn’t answer my texts.”
“Damn it, Penny, I said before you say anything. You’re throwing me off my— No, I didn’t answer your texts, although I didn’t know you sent any until you just said so.
I fucking packed my personal cell in one of my moving boxes and didn’t realize it until everything was ready to go and then it was too late.
And the thing died, so of course I couldn’t even hear it ring.
I didn’t have your number in my work phone. Or Margie’s.”
“Who doesn’t have iMessage set up on their laptop?”
“I—damn it, Penny—I needed to tell you… Well, what I’m trying to tell you. So I went to La’s, but she called me a dickhead and kicked me out.”
“I need to tell you something very important,” I interject, growing uneasy. I want to delay whatever it is he wants to say to me. “About the whole argument about your sister, and…and more.”
He rubs at the back of his neck and looks so aggravated it’d be comical if I hadn’t spent the past week aching for him, if I wasn’t so scared that I’ve cured him of his affection for me.
I want to pull him to me and kiss that expression off his face.
I want to hear him tell me he wants me back. I want to hear him tell me he cares.
“Wait your turn. You’re making me go all out of order.
” He heaves a frustrated sigh. “My sister is back with that asshole. I didn’t want her to hurt your friend, because I’ve had to go collect Anna’s stuff from more than one rebound’s place.
I never once considered you and her to be the same.
That isn’t you. And I wasn’t trying to control things…
I mean, in this case I was, but it was because Avery matters to you, and he seems like a good guy, and honestly I was just tired of…
But I should’ve let two consenting adults make their own mistakes.
It’s not my job to fix Anna or always act as clean-up crew. ”
“So you were white-knighting the situation,” I cut in. But he was doing it for me. For my friend. And, I guess, for himself, too.
“Y— Wait. Okay, please, just, like…shut up for two seconds? So I can say my piece?” He pauses. “I can’t remember what the hell I was saying.”
“You have something to tell me.”
“Right.” He rubs at his temple and then pushes past me, turning to face me from the center of my living room. “So, I took a page out of The Pirate Duke’s Revenge and… Well, I’ve commandeered your vessel.”
I stare at him, blinking slowly. “I don’t have any clue what you’re saying.”
“I bought your apartment.”
“You bought—”
“You love this place. I couldn’t let you lose it just because your raise hasn’t come through yet.
So I signed the papers for it. You can unpack your boxes.
But I’m not being heroic. This is piracy.
I’m claiming this space for me, too. I’m going to live here.
With you. I mean… I mean, of course you have a choice, but I was kind of hoping I could move in with you.
I’m currently on the couch of a WWII shrine, and Moth doesn’t smell as nice as you. ”
Jack rushes back out to the hall and bends to pick something up.
A plant.
“So I was going to get you a golden pothos because I read they mean something about longing and perseverance, but it didn’t have a flower, so I passed.
And I came across this one plant that had the perfect meaning, but every florist in New York City laughed when I asked for it.
Fuck if I remember what it was called now.
Then I was thinking tansy, because it means ‘I declare war on you’ in flower language, and I was preparing this whole Pirate Duke vessel analogy, but that’s not the most romantic thing. So I got you this. It’s a sunflower.”
I have been struck dumb. At my silence, Jack blanches—and for once, I let him do the babbling. “It means adoration. Going the distance. Loyalty. Penny, I swear, the Anna stuff… And I shouldn’t have said that about you. About your mom. It’s eaten me up inside not being able to tell you—”
“I believe you.”
That brings him up straight. “Okay.”
I move past him to close the door, slowly. And I turn to face him, my hands twisting in front of me. I’m quaking inside, a full cast of feelings jostling for center stage.
He still wants me.
Still cares.
Never stopped.
Bought my apartment.
He’s right there, holding a sunflower, and he’s perfectly imperfect—my villain and my white knight all wrapped up in one. I just have to reach out and tell him.
But the things I want to say, they’re jammed up. I watch the concern growing in his gray eyes. He sets the plant down and shoves a hand through his hair, anxiety threaded through his every movement. “Just spit it out. You’re killing me here.”
“Don’t rush me,” I snap.
He holds up his hands, his expression immediately conciliatory. I almost laugh. It’s enough to loosen my tongue. “I— You’re right. I love this apartment. I think you know what it means…what it meant to me. But…I’ve moved on.”
I’ve never seen Jack—supremely cool, confident, amused and detached Jack—ever look so crushed. He quickly blanks his face after a glance at the boxes behind me, and I panic, kicking myself. I can never find the words when I need them.
“No! I mean…that place. Home. Is… I’ve started to think that home is wherever you are.
” I wave away his words when he starts to talk.
“And I don’t want you walking on eggshells, worried that if you say the wrong thing I might bolt.
So… I did a thing. I got my raise, I fucking demanded it, and I…
Well, I kind of hoped you’d move in with me in your apartment.
Which I signed the papers for. Yesterday. ”
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. “You gave up your place for me.”
“Yeah.”
“And you bought my place?”
“Yeah.”
“The one I just moved all my stuff out of?”
“Yeah.”
“You couldn’t have grand-gestured me before I schlepped all my crap across town?
” he says. I gasp, affronted, and he barks out a laugh.
It’s a happy, joyous sound, and he pulls me to him.
He smiles down at me with an expression so euphoric, so heart-melting, that I need to remind myself this isn’t some Pirate Duke fantasy.
Jack captures my face between his hands.
“I can’t believe you were going to give up your apartment for me. ”
My gaze drops, suddenly shy, then climbs back up to meet his beautiful steel-colored stare. My mouth goes dry, and my palms are damp. I did the thing. Now it’s time for the words. “I love you, you menace.”
His mouth is on mine, and I could weep at the pure joy, the relief that courses through me. He’s not gone. He’s here. With me. And…
I tear my mouth from his. “Well?” I say.
He moves to kiss me again. “Well, what?”
I hold up my hand, pressing it against his face and smooshing it back. “I just used the L-word, and that’s a huge deal for me, and I’m feeling vulnerable right now.” I glare up at him.
“And?”
“Ew!”
He laughs. “What’s not to love about this package?
” He waves a hand at my indignant form, then chuckles again when I push him away.
“You need to hear it? Fine. You crashed into my life like a literal wrecking ball, made a mess of me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you. Of course I love you.”
He nearly falls over my sofa when I launch myself at him, legs wrapped around his waist. He slides his hand under me, hefting me up, and slants his mouth over mine again and again.
And then he takes me to the bedroom and reaffirms, with his hands, and his lips, and his clever, clever tongue—along with his Jake Gyllenhaal—that the hotel-room sparks were so, so, so not a fluke.
The apartment is growing dark. I flop a damp arm over my eyes. “You’ve killed me. You better have nice things to say at my funeral.”
“She died doing what she loved.”
I laugh, a little puff of air, because I don’t have energy for more than that. “She died doing who she loves.”
“I like your version better,” he says, running a hand down my torso. “That’s why you’re in marketing.”
“You’re not ready to go again. We’ve already gone—”
“That erectile dysfunction literature really was helpful,” he muses, brushing his hand against the underside of my breast. “I may have mentioned this in passing, but… Did you know that if you don’t suffer from erectile dysfunction, you can still take the pills and…
Well, let’s just say you don’t have to get ready if you stay ready. ”
“Is this one of those ‘go to the hospital if you remain erect for more than four hours’ things?”
“Guess we’ll have to spend the next four hours figuring that out.”
“I don’t think so.” I sigh and then yelp as he nips at my throat. Conflict isn’t scary. It’s fun, and hot, and we can both be bad with each other.
And that’s when the buzzer to my apartment sounds for the second time today.
“Ignore it,” Jack says, kissing me deeply. My phone starts vibrating, and I pull away reluctantly. I roll over and grab for it.
“Crap. Margie’s here.” I stand and stretch, tipping a flirtatious glance at Jack. And then I pull on my long Rolling Stones shirt and shorts.
“I loved you in those, by the way.”
“My sloppy seduction worked?”
“Just barely.”
I shake my head and move to the living room to let Margie in.
“You were sleeping?” she asks, when she sweeps into the apartment.
“Ah—”
Arms wrap around me from behind, and Jack presses a kiss to my temple. I peek down at him. He’s decent.
“So, not a lot of sleeping. Got it,” Margie says. A smile hovers around her lips. She’s happy for me. So happy, I nearly have to remind her she stopped by to tell me something.
“Oh. Yes. Well, I met with the showrunner today. Lunch. And…”
“Please tell me you still have a show,” I say.
“Yes… I have a show. Lucas has been dying to get out of his contract to get into movies more, and he’s been obsessed with that script about the hitmen brothers.”
Jack looks at me as I cover my face. “Is that the one that… Never mind.”
“Anyway, since he can’t film our show for a while, but the insurance policy the studio had on him paid out, they let him out of his contract.
He’s free to flap his little movie-star wings and fly away from the nest. Plus, the movie needed him banged up for a few scenes, so they’re actually speeding up their shoot schedule to take advantage of his mouth jewelry.
Method acting on steroids. As if there’s any other kind. ”
“That’s amazing, Margie!” I exclaim.
She holds up a hand. “Best for last. Best. For. Last. And, my little chaos babies… Your shenanigans got me a bigger part on the show. My series-regular role has turned into a starring one.”
I jump at her, rapturous that I haven’t done her career irreparable harm. Happy for Lucas. Happy for her.
Jack goes to the kitchen to whip up sustenance, and I fill Margie in on everything that’s happened in the last hour or so.
“Are you keeping both places?” Margie asks.
Jack calls out a “yes” from the kitchen, and Margie cracks out a laugh. “You know what this means, right?”
I look at her, puzzled, and then smile up at Jack as he joins me on the sofa. I lean against him, unable to stop touching him.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to bring down this wall again, Mr. Gorbachev!” She crows it and then covers her face, her shoulders moving soundlessly. “You two just put it up, too.” She’s laughing. Hard.
I stare at her, dumbfounded, and then I snort. Her giggles, even silent, are contagious. All those weeks and work and money…
“Motherfucker,” Jack mutters behind me.
But I notice he’s smiling, too, as he pulls me into the circle of his arms.