Chapter 39 Everything Means Nothing Without You
EVERYTHING MEANS NOTHING WITHOUT YOU
JAHLANI
Jahlani spends her twenty-seventh birthday at the office. The glass walls of the conference room reflect the city’s glow; the tables are untouched, chairs neatly arranged as if waiting for dawn.
Jahlani pushes the glass door open, taking in the still atmosphere.
The faint hum of the projector is the only sound she hears as she sinks into the chair at the head of the oval table.
For a moment, she pictures everything vividly—collaborating with her team, directing her projects, collecting her data with no one to stop her.
She stands up, trailing a finger along the table before halting at the front of the room.
“You,” she says, pointing to the empty chair, “I needed my report yesterday. Why hasn’t it been done?
And you”—she points her finger to another empty chair—“why do I have clients complaining to me about you not returning their calls after hours? Remember, without them, you have no job. Come on, people—did we leave our common sense at home today?”
She takes an exaggerated breath.
“You’re right. I’m on edge. I apologize sincerely; nobody deserves to be spoken to that way. Everyone, lunch is on me. As a matter of fact, have the rest of the day off.” She fakes a laugh. “No, thank you for being such hardworking, fastidious workers. Without you, there’s no us.”
She shakes her head at herself and waits for the familiar blanket of loneliness to settle in, before grabbing her bags and leaving.
When she enters the apartment building, she waves to Donny at the concierge desk, sidling up with a smile.
“Late night?” he asks, walking to the back to grab her packages.
She shrugs, dropping the powdered doughnuts on the counter for him. “I like what I do, Donny,” she calls. “It’s fun. I’m happy.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, girl. You remind me of my granddaughter. Always working,” he says through heavy grunts. “You two would get along.”
She leans over the counter, eyebrows drawn. “You alright in there?”
He rolls out a large box and drops it on the bellhop cart. Her eyes widen.
“That’s for me?”
He holds up a finger, going back and returning with three more, and finally a bouquet of white tulips. When she gives him a questioning look, he shrugs, telling her to return the cart when she gets a chance.
After dragging the boxes inside, she decides she needs a shower. Face scrubbed and hair up, she grabs a knife to open the first box—then her phone rings.
“Hey, Mom.” She breathes, dragging the knife through the tape.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
Jahlani’s chest tingles. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t know what to buy you.”
Jahlani’s lips turn upward. “It’s okay, Mom. This is good. This is nice.”
They lapse into silence as Jahlani chews on her lip, contemplating what to say next. Despite their virtual therapy sessions, their phone calls are still tense. Unnatural.
“Do you … have any plans?”
Jahlani looks around her apartment, lowering herself onto her loveseat, momentarily taken aback that her mom is still on the phone with her and that she’s asked a question.
“I don’t ... I just went to work, and now I’m in my apartment.”
“Hmm. You should go out. Have some fun.”
Jahlani nods, her brows bunching together. “Maybe,” she murmurs. “I don’t really like going out that much.”
“That’s true. I was like that when I was your age.
” Her mom continues, trying to recall how she spent her twenties, mentioning how she stumbled across a picture of the two of them from when Jahlani was little.
She talks, and talks, and even though it’s not perfect, and it’s not fixed, she starts to no longer feel like she’s on the back burner.
And when she hangs up, she feels better about them than she has in a long time.
Inhaling deeply, she moves to the kitchen to start prepping some cinnamon rolls. As the oven preheats, the boxes taunt her in the middle of her living room. Setting her wine glass down, she resumes opening the first box.
It’s a stack of romance books. She thumbs through the pages, her eyebrows pinched together as she moves it to the left of her.
The second box is a pair of noise-canceling headphones.
The last one has her hands shaking. It’s a limited edition Catan.
A knock at her door startles her, and her eyes immediately go to the clock on the stove. It’s after ten.
Running shaky hands over her shirt, she checks her appearance in the circular mirror before opening the door.
“Roman,” she says, her throat constricting as her body grows light.
“Jahlani.”
His hair is in its familiar tousled state and even though it’s been two months, it feels as though no time has slipped between them. She steps forward but stops herself when she sees he has something in his hand.
“I need to show you something, then ask you a very important question. Okay?”
She blinks, nodding in a daze. “Okay. Do you … maybe want to come in?”
Shaking his head, he hands her a small envelope. She tries to mask her disappointment at his refusal.
What did you think would happen?
“Open it,” he says, his voice low. “Please.”
With trembling fingers, she slides her finger under the flap, lifting out pictures. She looks down, blinking at him, then at the collection of photographs. She brings the first one closer to her face.
“They're pictures … from Thanksgiving,” she says, slowly meeting his eyes for confirmation. He nods and she gently slides through them. Danica and Gwen. Gwen and Lucy. Gwen and Roman. Roman and Jahlani.
“What’s that one?” he asks, his voice gravelly.
“It’s a picture of you and me.”
He nods. “That’s right. Can you describe it to me?”
She clears her throat. “Your hand is on my waist and you’re looking at the camera.”
“And where are you looking, Jahlani?” he murmurs.
“I’m looking at you,” she says, her pulse soaring.
God, please let this be what she thinks it is.
“And how would you describe that look, Jahlani?” he whispers, standing to his full height. She inhales slowly, looking over her features in the picture again.
“It’s content.”
“Hmm.”
“Grateful.”
“What else?”
“Caring.”
He inhales deeply. “I think those are all fairly accurate, but I still think you’re missing one. Can you tell me what it is?”
“Loving,” she whispers, the photo slipping from her fingers. “It’s a loving look.”
“How do you know?” he asks, stepping closer until their chests brush.
“My eyes.”
“If you say so, Jahlani.”
“I say so, Roman,” she says, reaching for the neck of his shirt. “If you’ll still have me,” she whispers. His hand snakes to her jaw and he tilts her head.
“I told you, I’m stuck.”
As she closes the space between them, she thinks about how she lied to Donny not even forty minutes ago.
Because this. This is happy.
She pulls back, looking up at him. “I’m sorry about everything, about hurting you” she says, tugging him all the way in as he tries to deepen the kiss.
He closes the door with his foot before pulling her back to his chest. She folds her body into his as he unties her hair. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world, and they do, she supposes, her belly warming.
She pushes his shoulders back to look him in the eyes again. “Really, we should talk,” she says, sliding from his hold to pace in front of him.
He blinks, leaning back against the door, watching her.
“God, why is this so hard?” she says, rubbing her forehead and shaking her hands out. Roman’s eyebrows raise when she paces two feet before turning around again. “Shit, the oven.” She rushes to the kitchen, turns it off, and finds him standing there.
He’s here.
In California.
“Hi,” he whispers, his eyes shining. He wraps an arm around her waist.
“Hi,” she says, pushing her palms against his chest until they slide into his hair. He reaches down then, pressing his mouth to hers, and she loses her footing as his kiss becomes fast and searching.
Consuming.
She pulls back again, and he groans.
“Wait. Wait. I do have something to say.”
“Tell me later,” he says against her lips. “I need this now.”
And she lets him press into her for a few minutes, his hands gliding over her cheeks to deepen the kiss, her leg raising to wrap around his waist, their breaths becoming one, but she pulls back again, forcing his eyes to her.
“Roman, I do–love you,” she says, meeting his gaze.
“But I won’t be able to say it as much as you do …
and express how I’m feeling as much as you do, but I do.
And I know that’s pretty shitty considering everything that’s transpired, but if you’re willing to …
to work with me and give me a little more time …
I can get better. I want to be better at this for you because I sit in this apartment, and it feels like, like nothing.
And my job is great, and I make more money than I could possibly spend now, but it’s just …
just a job, you know?” she says, exhaling slowly.
“And I know that this is what I asked for, this is what I said I wanted, what I thought I wanted or, I don’t know.
The point is, it all feels so … meaningless.
And I know that’s shitty of me, believe me, I know.
I wish I could take it back, and I’ve been beating myself up about this for weeks, about leaving you, but I thought it was a done deal, but you’re here now, so I guess what I’m trying to say is, what I’m trying to ask is that you be patient with me, because I really do want this, okay? ”
“Okay,” he says. “Anything you want. But, Jahlani—this is it.” He grabs her wrist. “If we’re doing this, it’s on my terms. No running away. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
His lips turn upward, before his eyes drop to her mouth. “Enough talking,” he says, lifting her up. “It’s your birthday.”
“You remembered?” She breathes against his lips as he walks them into her room.