11. Natalie
CHAPTER 11
NATALIE
T he next morning, as I approach the Langford Building, the sight of police tape stark against the old stone structure sinks my heart all over again. It's a visual confirmation of the chaos from last night, a harsh reminder that today, no progress will be made. The building stands silent, its future halted by crime tape and the lingering presence of officers finishing up their reports.
Pulling out my phone, I dial Jack's number, needing to hear a familiar voice, needing someone who understands without needing every detail spelled out. He picks up almost immediately, his voice heavy with concern.
"Hey, Nat. How are you holding up?" Jack's words are gentle, his role as my protector never waning.
I sigh, leaning against my car as I look at the sealed off entrance. “Well, I'm at the building today even though no one can get inside until the police finish up.” I laugh at myself and just how telling my actions are. “Everything has felt like one step forward and two steps back."
Jack's sympathetic grunt comes through the line. "I'm sorry, kid. That’s rough.” There's a pause as neither of us really knows what to say next. Then Jack continues, “But hey, I’m sure everything will work itself out."
I sigh as I continue staring at the building. It's like looking in a mirror—a big, fat reminder of what an absolute wreck my life has become. "Yeah, I hope so. It’s just… there’s so much going on, you know? With moving, the Langford Building, and Julian..."
Oh shit.
Jack clears his throat. “What about Julian?”
Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
I'm scrambling, hastily trying to present the situation in some way that won't send Jack on a potentially murderous tirade. “I—We…kissed last night. It was just a moment of weakness. It’s over now," I say, though it’s more to convince myself than Jack.
What I conveniently fail to mention is that this was not the first kiss. That there have been many kisses in the past few days. Including one almost-hook-up that may have been the most unprofessional moment of my entire career, and rattled me so much that I haven't stopped thinking about it since.
Even thinking about it now, I feel warmth between my thighs, remembering how unbearably thrilling it was to have him pressed between my legs.
Jack breaks me from my thoughts. "Alright, well. It’s your business, Nat. Just remember I’m here if you need to talk. About anything, not just about work stuff." His voice is oddly sincere despite his palpable disapproval.
I nod, silently praying that's the end of it. "Thanks, Jack. I really appreciate it."
There's a tense pause before Jack speaks again. “Just…watch yourself around Julian, okay? You've got enough going on right now. You don't need to dig that up, too.”
His words, meant as a light warning, carry a weight that settles heavily in my stomach. "I will. I’ll be careful," I promise. Not that I've had too much choice in the matter, anyway, considering the conversation Julian and I had last night.
We say our goodbyes, my stomach churning. I need to focus on something else.
Unable to shake off the restlessness that the closure of the Langford Building has stirred within me, I first attempt to reach Benny. I dial his number, but it goes straight to voicemail. With a sigh, I hang up and then dial Lauren’s number, knowing she’ll be expecting to start the day’s restoration work.
“Hey, Lauren,” I start as soon as she picks up.
“Morning, Nat. I saw the news. Does this mean we're starting late today?” Lauren’s voice carries her usual brisk efficiency, ready to adapt to whatever the day throws her way.
“Actually, I’m at the site now, and it’s all still closed off. There are police everywhere. I don't think they're going to let us inside any time soon,” I explain, trying to keep the disappointment from seeping too much into my tone.
“Oh, damn. That serious, huh?” Lauren’s concern is evident, and it's the first time I’ve heard her optimism waver even slightly.
“Yeah, looks like it. They’re being thorough, which is good for the investigation but puts a dent in our schedule.” I take a deep breath, shifting my focus. “Hopefully, we can get back on track soon. Just didn’t want you heading this way for no reason.”
“Appreciate the heads-up,” she replies. “Well, keep me posted, will you? If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks, Lauren. Enjoy the unexpected day off, I guess?” I attempt to lighten the mood, though the chuckle I offer feels a bit hollow.
“You too, Nat. Catch you later.”
As I end the call, the anxiety of an unplanned day looms before me, heavy and uninviting. Deciding a change of scenery might lift my spirits, I head to a nearby coffee shop, a small haven of normalcy.
The bell above the door jingles softly as I step into the cozy warmth of the café, the rich aroma of brewed coffee a comforting embrace. I join the line, my mind still tangled with thoughts of the break-in, of Julian, of the looming conversation with my boss—everything that seems to be spiraling out of control.
Lost in thought, I barely notice the line moving forward until I’m next to order. That’s when I see him—Julian, just a few feet away, his presence as startling as it is inevitable in this small town. Our eyes meet for a fleeting second before I can look away, my face burning with embarrassment at being caught staring.
His hair is down today, falling just below his shoulders in dark, glossy waves. I've never seen it this way before. The sight sends an electric jolt through my body, reawakening those parts of me that have been tantalized unrelieved for days now.
Julian’s expression is unreadable, but he makes no move to approach or say hello. I’m oddly grateful for that, even though it stings. The silence stretches as everything that's passed between us echoes in my mind. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise of caution.
I focus intently on the menu board above the counter, even though I already know what I’ll order, using it as a shield against the discomfort of his proximity. The barista’s voice, cheerful and oblivious to the undercurrents swirling just a few feet away, breaks the tension momentarily.
“What can I get started for you?” she asks, her smile bright.
“Large hazelnut latte, please,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "To go."
As I pay and step aside to wait for my order, I steal another glance at Julian. He’s looking down at his phone now, a curtain of hair concealing his face. I wonder what he's doing. Is he focused on the project, or is he in as much pain as I am trying to pretend that we're not currently occupying the same space?
But it doesn’t matter. I’m here for coffee, not more complications.
As I step out of the coffee shop, the gentle morning breeze cools my skin, and I breathe for what feels like the first time in minutes. Just as I'm about to head towards my car, a sudden movement catches my peripheral vision—it's Julian, also leaving the coffee shop.
In a moment of panic, trying awkwardly to avoid him, I misstep. The hot coffee sloshes dangerously, some of it spilling over through the hole in the lid and scorching my hand.
"Damn!" I hiss under my breath, the sting of the hot liquid snapping me back to reality.
And then Julian is beside me, his reflexes quick as he reaches out to take my cup, saving me from further injury. "Careful," he murmurs just a bit too quietly.
I mutter a thanks, embarrassed by my clumsiness and the situation. Keeping my gaze on anything other than his unfairly perceptive eyes, I take my coffee back with a concerted effort not to let my hand touch his.
“We've had enough setbacks without our interior designer losing her hand, don’t you think?”
Julian's joke falls flat, a poor attempt to ease the tension between us.
"Right," I reply, forcing a tight smile as I shift both hands to my cup. The awkwardness lingers, an uninvited shadow under the morning sun.
Julian, still holding his own coffee, seems reluctant to end our brief encounter. "So, what are you up to today?"
I shrug, a little sharper than I intend. "I don't know. I'm not exactly great with last minute changes." I don't elaborate, not really wanting to dive into my feelings of frustration and disarray.
Julian nods, his expression turning thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that.” It's a normal response, but it feels intimate, bringing memories of the old days back the surface.
He still doesn't leave. Does he want to hang out or something? Just twelve hours ago, Julian made it clear that what was brewing between us was too complicated, too risky to pursue given our respective responsibilities. I don’t appreciate him giving me mixed signals.
"Why are you talking to me?" The words slip out fiercely, I’m unable to control my bitterness stemming from his rejection. "You made it pretty clear last night that you're not interested. So why are you trying to chat like nothing happened?"
The question hangs between us, stark and raw. Julian’s face registers surprise, then understanding, as if he hadn’t realized how his actions could be perceived.
"I—You're right," he admits after a moment, his gaze dropping to his coffee cup. "I did say that I don't think it's a good idea. And I haven't changed my mind. But I’m not heartless. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t see you, that I don’t...” He sighs, running his fingers through his hair, and making my heart beat even more erratically. “It’s hard."
I nod, even as I feel like I'm about to throw up. "It's hard for me too. We have to work together. Knowing I could bump into you at any second—it’s driving me nuts. So, we need to keep things professional.”
Julian looks at me, one corner of his mouth tucking up into a smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. “That's what I was trying to do. Before you jumped down my throat.”
A fresh round of embarrassment creeps along my skin, heating my cheeks and ears. He's right. He was just being nice. God, why can't I control myself around him?
The simple, act of parting ways feels like an insurmountable task, laden with unspoken words and stifled emotions. I turn to leave, each step I take away from Julian adds weight to the hollow space inside my chest.
Despite my resolve to keep things professional, my mind betrays me, replaying the press of his lips against mine, the warmth of his hands—images that stir a longing I'm desperate to quell.
The conflict is maddening. Part of me, a reckless, hopeful part, yearns to turn back, to bridge the distance with a kiss that might make us forget the reasons we can't be together. My thoughts continue to spin, weaving fantasies that sear with intensity. The rough texture of his stubble against my skin, the strength of his arms enveloping me, the taste of him filling my breath. Each imagined sensation is vivid, almost tangible, igniting a fire within me that I struggle to suppress.
But I won't. I can't ruin the fragile boundaries we've both agreed to uphold. The reality of our situations—his responsibilities to Aria, my own tangled heart—anchors my feet, even if my heart wants to rebel.
"I'll see you at work, once the building is open again," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. The words are a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge of my impulsiveness. "Maybe we should keep our distance unless it's necessary. It's better that way."
Julian's expression is a mix of understanding and something else I can't quite read. "Agreed," he responds softly, his voice low and rough. He stands there, a figure literally marked by his trials, watching after me as I walk away.
With each step, the emotional turmoil churns stronger. My heart battles my head, love against logic, desire against duty. By the time I reach my car, a bitter thought surfaces, unbidden but clear: maybe I'm just not meant for romance. Maybe the kind of love I yearn for is nothing more than a fantasy.
The drive home is pure muscle memory, my attention sucked up by existential sadness. Maybe I'm just not kind of woman that men fight for. The loneliness feels deeper now, Julian’s rejection cutting deeper into the unhealed wound that Hayden carved into me. A wound that feels as if it might not ever heal.