Chapter 3
Lilah
So. This is chemistry.
It must be. What else could have me walking, talking, and laughing in turn, all while entirely oblivious to any of my life’s many problems?
Like how I haven’t made time for a date, impromptu or otherwise, in over three years.
Julian is charming and funny, which is no surprise. We’re in a wealthy neighborhood just north of Seattle, full of plenty of beautiful, charming people who have “made it” in some way. I’d expect nothing less of someone who lives on this hill.
It’s one of my favorite places in the city, each street an adventure in architecture from a smorgasbord of eras.
We’re walking by a cute little craftsman, which sits next to a hulking modern behemoth made of glass and wood.
No two houses are the same, yet somehow they all fit, the backdrop of the Space Needle and Seattle skyline rising behind them.
When I focus back on my escort, it’s Julian’s genuine nature that puts proverbial stars in my eyes. There’s no hint of reservation as he guffaws at the details of the Great Poop Bag Debacle, a story I felt obligated to tell just to get past my awkward first date comment.
Seriously, James? Amateur move.
“So how did a mishap magnet like you decide on one of the most accident-prone professions possible?”
Julian’s rich laugh loosens the belt of my anxiety by another notch, my smile widening as I gasp indignantly.
“Mishap magnet?!” I fling the back of my hand into his chest, laughing as he caves his shoulders in and dances to the side, grinning at me. “I’ll have you know I was once lauded as the queen of quality control. If you wanted a complex project done right, I was your girl.”
Julian’s eyebrows climb. “Is that so?”
The wry chuckle flees my mouth before I can corral it. “It is, though that version of me feels like she existed in another lifetime.”
I can feel Julian’s assessing gaze on me as we walk, the soft glow of the street lamps in this bougie neighborhood casting warmth over everything.
“What were you escaping when you started Happy Tails?”
I nearly choke on nothing, my eyes wide as I ogle his audacity like it’s a physical thing between us. He chuckles at my expression, giving a half shrug.
“Let’s just say I recognize the signs. You’re not the only one who escaped one career for the solace of another.”
Tell me all your secrets, mysterious man.
“That’s fair.” I swallow roughly and take a deep breath, holding it for a few beats before gently letting it go. “I was in consulting, at one of the Big Four.”
I sneak a glance and almost snort at his raised brows and parted lips.
“Oh, believe me, it wasn’t my vibe then, either. Not really.”
“Sorry, I just…can’t imagine you as one of those drones.”
There’s no stopping the snort this time. “Apt description! You work with consultants?”
His smile is soft and gentle and my heart squeezes in response. “In a former life.”
Something unspoken passes between us. Like recognizing like, finding comfort in the presence of someone who gets it—who understands how bravery, guilt, fear, and excitement are wrapped up in evolving.
In becoming who you want to be, outside expectations be damned.
“It’s hard to imagine when you’ve only seen me covered in death and being lovingly mauled by the world’s biggest dog, but I used to blend right in to that world.”
Julian raises a skeptical eyebrow. I grin.
“Okay, so maybe the blending took a little work. Okay, a lot.” Another grounding breath. “It took longer than I’d like to admit for me to realize I was losing more than I was gaining at that job.”
Julian’s pinky brushes mine as we walk. It feels like an invitation, and my heart warms at the gesture.
I let our fingers catch, turning my hand ever so slightly. He takes full advantage, fitting our hands together and gripping gently. It’s easier to continue with his warmth and wordless support grounding me.
“I was losing…me. Every time I swallowed my sarcasm or sat by while one of my usually male, typically white superiors took credit for my work while passing me over yet again for promotion.”
Julian’s fingers tighten around mine. I can feel the tension he carries in response to what I shared, the righteous indignation.
Even though it’s a tale as old as time.
Shrugging, I look up through the trees and street lamps to the faint glimpse of stars littered above us.
“So you realized it wasn’t worth the cost.” Julian’s voice is a gentle rasp, raising goosebumps along the nape of my neck.
There’s a wealth of knowing in his words, a kindred kind of pain.
I don’t know what demons he’s faced, but something tells me I’d find them familiar.
Hearing even a snippet of his truth, a piece of the past that has brought this surprising, unexpected person onto a collision course with my messy existence suddenly feels imperative.
I don’t want this walk to end.
“Not that my journey on the other side has been easy.” My smile is wry. “Being a small business owner is no joke, especially once it became more than just me.”
“Wait, are you running a dog sitting empire?” His eyes twinkle. “Color me even more impressed.”
“I’m definitely working on it!” I laugh at his playful teasing. “It feels silly, sometimes—”
“Don’t.” I look up in surprise at the firmness in his tone.
“Don’t minimize what you’ve built. You escaped the confines of that old world, you don’t need to carry their shortsighted vision of success with you.
Regardless of how you measure success, it sounds like you’ve already accomplished something incredible. ”
Okay, turn me to mush, why don’t you?
My cheeks flush yet again.
“That’s really kind of you.”
He scoffs, his lips turning up in one corner.
“Do you know one in five small businesses fails in its first year? Now, I don’t know all the details, but it sounds like you’re profitable and still growing.
That’s no easy feat, particularly in this economy.
” His fingers tighten briefly around mine.
“Claim your success, Delilah. You deserve to be proud of yourself.”
I’m at a loss for words as I swallow roughly. My emotions are a tight ball in my throat. For a few minutes, all I can focus on is the pressure of his hand around mine and the steady metronome of our footsteps on the pavement.
“Thank you.” I peer up at him, something warm and cuddly settling in my chest. “For listening and seeing me so clearly.”
“It’s my pleasure, Delilah. Truly,” Julian says as he slows, “And I’d love to continue this conversation, but maybe you can clean up first?”
My gaze swings from him to the quaint home he’s leading us to, my heart stumbling as my brain does a record-scratch.
“You’re kidding me.”
The words fly out of my mouth without permission as we turn off the sidewalk and onto a short, steep driveway. I freeze in my tracks, my hand slipping from his. Julian pauses as he steps past me, looking from me to the house with a raised brow.
“About what, exactly?” he prompts when I continue to stare, clearly gobsmacked.
“You live here?” I ask, my voice rising to a nearly hysterical squeak. “Here!?”
He steps back and regards the house, folding his arms across his chest as he does. After a long moment, he nods sharply. “I do.”
“In this house.”
“This very one.”
“Since when?”
A normal person would question my admittedly unhinged line of questioning, but Julian just cocks his head in thought.
“About three years.”
“You’re shitting me.”
He smirks. “You know, you’ve mentioned shit far more than I usually experience on a first date.”
The playful snark almost breaks through the fog in my brain. Almost.
“Put a pin in that date comment, please, I’d like to revisit.
” He grins but doesn’t speak, no doubt waiting for me to explain my erratic as fuck behavior.
“I’ve walked by this house nearly every day for the last three years.
I fucking love this house. It’s the picture I have in my head of what I want some day when I win the lottery or discover I’m the sole heir for a mysterious secret billionaire relative I currently know nothing about. ”
I know I sound like a crazy person. The knowledge doesn’t even slow me down.
“My friends have heard me talk about this house for literal years. It’s an inside joke at this point, Lilah’s House on the Hill.
” I gaze up at the quaint little Victorian with its peaked roof and ornate gables.
“I know it’s not the biggest house on the street, or the oldest, or the best updated, or the most famous.
But I was walking GoGo one day and it just… struck me.”
He’s quiet, letting me have my moment. I stare past him, taking in the brightly-painted eaves and yellow door.
It’s not the kind of place I pictured for him, with his cashmere sweater and fancy pants.
I expected something with sharp, modern lines.
Something with glass and metal that felt neutral or a bit cold, not this physical embodiment of a warm, welcoming hug.
There’s so much more to this man than meets the eye.
This isn’t the kind of house the average person falls in love with.
It’s full of character and far from perfect, with mismatched shingles from prior repair jobs and a different blue used to paint the eaves on each level.
When my friend Nisha saw it for the first time, she made a face and said it looked like a lot of work.
It sounded a little too familiar.
“What struck you?” Julian’s soft question brings me back to the present.
My eyes find his, warm and gentle as they regard me.
In for a penny, in for a pound. We’ve come this far, may as well bare my soul.
“I just…” Sighing, I wrap my arms around my middle.
“Okay, so I don’t know if it was the same for you, but in my school they talked about the American dream a lot.
White picket fence, house, family…the whole deal.
In elementary school, they asked us to draw our version of the American dream.
Having never seen it, I drew this house. Your house.”
I laugh, feeling untethered. “The colors, the shape, that yellow door. Eight-year-old Lilah thought of what her future could be and drew that exact house.” I gesture toward it, my eyebrows raised.
Julian keeps his eyes on me, stepping a bit closer. He keeps his hands to himself, though.
I can’t decide if I appreciate the restraint or hate it.
I haul in another lungful of air that’s meant to be calming, but it catches in my throat. “It took my breath away to see it in person decades later, this place I thought I made up in my head.”
“Did it make that childhood dream feel real?” Julian asks, endless patience in his tone.
“So real,” I whisper, my chest tightening as I fold my arms tight, like armor.
“I quit the consulting job the next week, took my dog sitting business full time. It was like seeing this place made it okay for me to believe in all of my dreams. Like they could each become tangible someday, because this one already existed. Just sitting out here in the world, waiting for me to discover the realities of my imagination.”
My weight shifts as I look down and chuckle, shaking my head. “It sounds silly to say it out loud—”
“It sounds brave,” he interrupts, not letting me finish the thought. “It takes an incredible amount of courage to share a story like that with a practical stranger, Delilah. Almost as much as it takes to walk away from something familiar for the opportunity to build the unknown.”
There’s something in his tone again, something both familiar and weighty.
“It sounds like we may have some shared experiences.”
His eyes sparkle in the fading light. “I made my own leap of faith in myself, over a decade ago now. Buying this house was part of that journey.”
There are so many questions I want to ask him, so much I suddenly need to know about this perfect stranger who somehow owns a part of me.
I don’t let people in easily, haven’t since I’d had my heart stomped on a few too many times.
It was second nature to guard it, to keep my distance.
I’d had every intention of thanking him for the offer but declining when we got here, my better sense winning out over the lusty daze of our whirlwind meeting.
Now I’m not sure I can walk away.
He steps closer, almost like he senses my resolve crumbling, and extends his hand. “Want to come see if the inside sparks more memories?”
Like you wouldn’t believe.
“I think it’s time to revisit the date comment.”
“Sure. Do you want to clean up first?” His smile softens. “I promise to be a gentleman.”
You don’t have to be.
His chuckle is thick and rough. My core clenches, which has not happened in response to another human in far too long. I’ve barely had time to catch my breath since I started Happy Tails, let alone try to find someone to share anything with.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” I mumble, heat rising up my neck.
“You did. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I’ll ignore it.”
He steps back and sweeps his hand toward his front door. I knew I’d stay the moment he asked but it still feels like a significant choice to walk past him. As I do, he murmurs something, voice just as rough as his laugh.
It sounds suspiciously like “For now.”