Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
JO
I spin around in the living room of my apartment, a huge grin on my face.
My apartment.
The most perfect top floor apartment in the most gorgeous five-story brownstone on West Seventy-Fifth Street between Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues with two bedrooms and original moldings and a fireplace and massive windows with stained glass panels at the top. With a brand new kitchen I’ll probably never touch because I hate cooking but that is stunning nonetheless. And immaculately furnished with comfortable chairs and a squashy couch I want to sink into and watch an endless stream of movies.
I glance around the living room filled with suitcases and boxes that need unpacking and think about all the work I have ahead of me at the museum that I can’t wait to get started on and all the fun there is to be had in New York in the summer.
A little shimmer of excitement runs through me, and I stomp my feet and let out a little scream.
Everything's coming up Jo.
Whipping my phone out, I take a quick selfie and navigate to my group chat with my sisters.
Me
[selfie of a grinning Jo in the living room]
Hannah
Holy fuck that’s quite an apartment.
Me
It’s owned by some museum trustee who doesn’t need it for the summer. Something about a house in the Hamptons. I wasn’t really listening to be honest, but it doesn’t matter because for the next three months, it’s MINE.
Hallie
Have I told you yet that I’m so proud of you?
Me
You have, and I appreciate it. I’m sad to be away from the babies for three months though. They’ll be so big when I get back.
Hallie
We’ll video chat a lot and I’ll send pictures. This is a huge opportunity, Jo Jo. You had to take it.
Hannah
I second that. And I’m around. I’ll be over more since you’re away.
Hallie
You’re the best, Han.
Hannah
Evans girls have to stick together. And someone has to be around to ward off Mom if she gets a wild hair to start visiting every day again.
Me
Is she still bothering you, Hal?
Hallie
Not much. After I told her I was tired of her telling me all the ways I was doing it wrong and that Ben and I were perfectly capable of figuring out parenting all on our own, she backed off.
Me
I’m proud of you too. And I’m sorry that she couldn’t just be a grandma without all the judgmental assholery.
Hallie
It’s fine. I’m fine. Ben’s mom is the best grandma of all time, and between you guys and my friends, these babies have more than enough love in their lives.
Me
Fucking right, they do.
I click off my phone and toss it onto the island that separates the kitchen and living room, my mood sobering just a touch at the thought of my mom and her overbearing, judgmental streak. When I told her I was coming to New York for the summer, all she said to me was that she hoped I was “taking appropriate shoes for work,” and that I should “consider toning down my wardrobe.”
Ugh. Thinking of her just reminds me of everyone who has ever told me to be less when every instinct I have screams at me to be everything.
I force all those thoughts from my head as fast as they come because the evening spring sunshine streams through the windows and it’s like the entire city is calling to me, beckoning me to explore.
Smiling again, I pick up my phone from the island and pull up my text thread with Jordan because if I’m exploring, I need my exploration buddy. He might have thought I was exaggerating about the J’s Summer of Fun, but I absolutely was not.
Over the past few weeks that we’ve been texting, I think I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. At first, he wasn’t the best texter, but he warmed up to it. He went along with my little Dippy scarf game without a qualm, and he has done every single homework assignment I’ve given him. Even the weird ones like when I sent him a Batman T-shirt to wear under his scrubs for National Batman Day.
It all just solidifies my belief that Jordan needs a friend and some extra fun in his life, and I am just the person to give it to him.
Me
I MADE IT BESTIE
Jordan
Made it where?
Me
Don’t tell me you haven’t been counting the minutes until I get to New York.
Jordan
I swear I have not.
Me
Lies. I bet you had the date circled on your calendar with hearts and rainbows.
Jordan
I have never drawn a rainbow in my life.
Me
Boring. Rainbows are the best thing to draw.
Jordan
Why is that?
Me
Because they’re all the colors.
So, what are you up to?
Jordan
Just got to the hospital. I’m working tonight.
Me
Also boring.
Just kidding. You’re saving lives and that is very cool. What time do you get off?
jordan
Twelve-hour shift, seven to seven.
Me
Sounds a whole lot like you’ll need breakfast when you’re done.
Jordan
I usually just grab a bagel on my way home to crash.
Me
That’s what you used to do. I don’t start work until Tuesday, so tomorrow we’re going to breakfast. I’ll meet you outside the hospital around seven.
Jordan
You really don’t have to do that.
Me
Don’t be insane. Breakfast is the absolute best meal to eat out, especially here.
Jordan
Seven is pretty early. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in?
Me
One hundred percent I do not. You. Me. Breakfast tomorrow morning. I know just the place.
Jordan
Fine, but can you do me a favor?
Me
Sure, what is it?
Jordan
Can you wait for me inside the hospital lobby instead of outside?
Me
Why?
Jordan
Just humor me, okay?
Me
[shrugging emoji] sure.
Jordan
Thank you.
[Picture of Dippy wearing a scarf covered in pink Converse].
Me
OH MY FUCKING GOD. You did remember I was coming in today!
Jordan
What makes you say that?
Me
Because pink Converse is my signature shoe.
Jordan
No comment.
Me
I’ll take that as a yes.
I didn’t send you that scarf, did I?
Jordan
Also no comment.
I grin like a maniac at the phone because I am one hundred percent sure that I did not, in fact, send Jordan that Converse dinosaur scarf, which means he bought it himself. Thinking of him making that kind of effort for our little game has warmth flowing through me. And without warning, I feel the tiny roots of something start to take hold.
It’s useless to stop it, so I don’t even try. I could try and talk myself out of it, but that’s a fool’s game, and Jo Evans is nobody’s fool. So right here, in this pretty apartment that is mine for the summer, I admit to myself the thing that I’ve been trying not to think about for the month since Jordan walked out of Hallie and Ben’s house looking like he was lost and in need of someone to come find him.
I like him.
As more .
There’s something about him that called to me right from the jump.
But Jordan Wyles needs a friend, and I want to be that for him. The best friend he ever had, and the best summer ever, at a time in his life when he seems to need it the most.
* * *
I spot Jordan the second he enters the lobby.
Clad in black joggers and a gray T-shirt, small duffle bag slung over his shoulder, his light brown hair is a disheveled mess, and his eyes look tired from his overnight shift. As I take him in, my stomach does an involuntary flip that is as inconvenient as it is unsurprising.
“Friends, Jo” I mutter. “Be his friend.”
Something that is probably easier in theory than in the reality where I am faced with this absolutely gorgeous specimen of man. Sipping my iced coffee, I take a minute to study him before he spots me. He cuts a path through the lobby, dodging people expertly and smiling at no one. A man on a mission, which I assume is to get out of this building as soon as possible, except maybe it’s not because his eyes track the space as if he’s looking for something. Or someone maybe?
I barely have time to finish that thought when he spots me. He doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t wave. Instead, he strides in my direction, his gaze holding mine, all his attention focused on me, and Jesus . Being the sole focus of Jordan Wyles’ unsmiling attention is a heady thing. His eyes flash with something I can’t quite place but looks a lot like…relief maybe? It would be weird if it was because I told him I was going to be here and here I am, but then he’s in front of me and it’s gone.
His clean, fresh laundry scent invades my senses, and I grin up at him. “Hey J, happy to see me?”
He studies me. “I’m honestly not sure. Are you about to give me something weird or ask me to go make friends with another Times Square character?”
I laugh because he gets me. “I do have something for you, but it can wait for coffee.” I hand him the iced coffee I brought him, and he takes it from me. “I didn’t know how you took it. Weird right? I feel like after a month of texting, that’s the kind of thing a friend should know, but I just got you what I got myself. If you tell me what you like, I’ll know for next time.”
“Next time?”
“I mean, yeah. Even after I start work, I’m always up for a seven a.m. breakfast. When I told you we were going to be friends this summer, I super meant it, and friends do not let friends crash after doing surgery all night without a good breakfast.”
Jordan takes a sip and then examines the cup. “Milk and one Splenda?”
“Yeah, good guess.”
He shrugs. “Not really. It’s how I like my coffee too.”
He says this nonchalantly, as if it’s not the greatest coincidence of all time. My smile widens. “So we’re coffee compatible. This is such great news.”
“That is absolutely not a thing.”
“Uh, yes, it is. It means if we ever need to share coffee for some reason, no one has to be disappointed that they’re not getting what they want. All the best friendships start with two people who are coffee compatible.”
He raises an eyebrow, but I can see a touch of humor in his eyes, and it delights me. “Why are we sharing coffee?”
“Maybe we ran out.”
“This is New York. You can get coffee anywhere, at any time of the day or night.”
I pause because, fair point. “Maybe I just like that we have something in common.”
Jordan pauses, too, and studies me for a second before nodding like he agrees. “So, you said something about breakfast?”
“You bet I did.” I link my arm through his and walk towards the front door. “Follow me, J.”
Twenty minutes and a cab ride later, we’re being seated in the booth of a tiny diner on the corner of 103rd Street and Broadway. Ordinarily, I would have walked, but Jordan looked tired. As the waitress comes to take our drink orders and he requests another coffee, I take in his red rimmed eyes and wonder if maybe I misjudged.
“Are you sure you’re okay to have breakfast?” I ask after the waitress walks away. “I didn’t think about how tired you would be after working overnight. I should have.”
He shakes his head, taking a sip of his water, and his throat working as he swallows is ridiculously attractive. Gah. “It’s fine, really. I’ve been a doctor for a long time. I’m used to working overnight. I can crash after breakfast.”
“Okay, but feel free to always tell me if you want to sleep or something instead of going along with whatever crazy idea I come up with. For some reason, I’ve never needed as much sleep as I’m supposed to, which makes my people insane half the time. I’d rather do almost anything except for sleep.”
He looks down, drawing circles in the condensation on his water glass, and when he speaks, he doesn’t look at me, his voice quiet. “It’s nice, having company after a night shift. It’s been a while since I’ve had that.” When he finally looks up at me, his eyes are a little unfocused, like he’s lost in a memory. I wonder if Allie is the last person he spent the morning after a night shift with, and my heart aches a little for him. Then he snaps out of it, shaking his head a little and huffing out a breath.
“I sleep like shit most of the time anyway.”
“Working overnights sometimes and days other times can’t be good for sleep hygiene.”
Jordan studies his menu as if the answers to all of life’s most important questions can be found between pictures of omelets and waffles. “It’s not that. I got used to that years ago.” He pauses briefly and seems to be arguing with himself in his head before he speaks again. “I haven’t really slept well since Allie died.”
His head snaps up like he can’t believe he actually said those words, and I get that same murderous feeling toward anyone who made him feel like he can’t say her name. I decide to take a chance.
“You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Gauge my reaction every time you mention Allie’s name. It’s okay to talk about her. To me and to anyone else.”
The gratitude in his eyes almost knocks me over. “Sometimes I feel weird saying her name, like I’m not supposed to, and no one else does either. I guess maybe they think it makes me sad or something.”
“Does it?”
Jordan toys with the little dish of sugar packets, taking them out and putting them back in color order. “Sometimes, but sometimes I just want to say the name of the woman I loved for five years and talk about her without worrying I’m making someone uncomfortable, you know? Just because she’s not here anymore doesn’t mean she’s gone. Those years still mean something, even if they’re over.”
I lay my hand over his briefly and feel the little zing. He does too—I can see it when he lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine. “They don’t just mean something, J. They mean everything. You loved her, and that love doesn’t just disappear. You can always talk about her with me. Or even just say her name if that’s all you feel like doing. You don’t have to hide that part of your life. From anyone, but definitely not from me.”
Jordan closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them, they’re swirling with emotion. “Thanks, Jo. You’re the only person ever to say that to me. It means a lot.”
I take my hand away from his and pick up my water, letting his words hang for a moment before I lighten the mood because I think it’s what we both need. “Listen, everything said during the J’s Summer of Fun is sacred.”
One side of his mouth quirks up just a little in the closest to a smile I’ve ever seen from him. “You’re really calling it that?”
“Uh, yeah. Not only am I calling it that, but I’m getting T-shirts made for both of us, and we’re wearing them on one of our excursions. Now, we have an important decision to make.” I tap the menu in front of him. “What are you having for breakfast? Because it’s really important that we don’t get the same thing.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re going to tell me what I can and can’t have for breakfast?”
“I mean, only if you were planning on getting the same thing as me.”
“And if I was?”
“I would tell you that would make sharing breakfasts really hard.”
“What if I don’t want to share?”
I gasp. “Are you one of those people who hates sharing food? Because if you are, this friendship might be doomed from the start. I don’t decision well, and I can never pick just one of anything.”
“Nah, I don’t mind sharing food, as long as you don’t get runny eggs. There is nothing worse than runny eggs.”
I put my hand on my heart and speak seriously. “I solemnly swear never to order anything with runny eggs which are, in fact, the most disgusting food on the planet. I’m getting French toast.”
“I’m an omelet guy.”
I beam at him. “Well then, we’re going to get along just fine.”
“I was extremely worried about that,” he says dryly.
Once we place our orders and doctor our coffees, I reach into my bag and pull out a tiny gift bag, pushing it across the table. Jordan eyes it warily, like it might contain something alive, and I burst out laughing.
“Jesus Christ, J, it won’t bite. Just open it.”
He reaches in and pulls out a small fold-out map of Manhattan. Turning it around in his hands, he looks up at me. “Explain, please.”
I sit back in the booth and grin at him. “I’m so glad you asked. As you may know, this Saturday is National Scavenger Hunt Day.”
“You will be extremely shocked to learn that I did not, in fact, know that.”
Jordan takes a sip of his coffee but doesn’t take his eyes off of me. The eye contact does weird things to my stomach, but I force myself to stay on track.
“Okay, well, be that as it may, this is obviously a holiday that must be celebrated. So, on Saturday night, we’re participating in a massive scavenger hunt all over the island of Manhattan.”
“We are?”
“Oh, yes, we are. As long as you’re not working. Are you working?”
“I have four days off. I don’t work again until Monday night.”
I clap my hands together. “Excellent. We’ll grab dinner first, and the scavenger hunt starts at ten. I’ve read all about it, and it’s supposed to be insane and so much fun. It goes late, but since we both sleep like crap anyway, might as well run around Manhattan looking for weird things, right?”
I eye him, wondering if he’s going to protest, but all he does is shrug. “Sounds good.”
“I think you mispronounced sounds like it’s going to be the best night ever .”
He eyes me for a second. “Hurricane, I think you could probably make anything fun.”
He says it nonchalantly, as if it’s not the best, nicest thing he’s ever said to me, and I have to fight to keep my face neutral while a bubble of emotion expands in my chest. “Making things fun is my very best thing.”
He seems to consider that for a second. “Speaking of making things fun, now that you’re here, does that mean I can stop sending you Dippy pictures?”
“Uh, no it doesn’t. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean he doesn’t need an outfit change every day, and I need photographic evidence you’re taking care of that.”
Jordan pulls out his phone and opens his gallery, handing the phone to me across the table. I take it and burst out laughing at the picture of Dippy wearing a scarf covered in breakfast food. “I bow down to this level of coordination.”
Jordan shrugs, a sheepish expression on his face. “It felt appropriate.”
I hand him back the phone, smiling widely. “It absolutely is appropriate. I’m proud of you for keeping up the tradition.”
“I think maybe I would do anything you asked me to.” He holds eye contact with me for a second, but before I can figure out how to react to that—and to the butterflies swarming in my stomach—the waitress slides breakfast plates in front of us and the moment is broken.
But his words stick with me for a long time after breakfast is over.