My shins throbbed, the sensation of shattered bones pierced my muscles and skin while I ran over piles of salt and snow to get there. Lights weren’t in my favor, beeping cars tried to take me out, and my heart continued to pound. Its violent reminder pleased me; it powered me, the conscious throb telling my soul and mind this was the right thing to do. I could no longer betray my soul.
My mind wasn’t imaginative. There was no way it could’ve fabricated those words, the intricate depth of emotion each syllable stirred within me. I couldn’t believe my brain would devise such intoxicating delight, the security of his explanation and thoughts, only to humor my sleeping soul. No.
I bent over, steadying myself and catching the intense breaths that forced frozen air into my throbbing lungs before I turned the corner. I knew when I looked up I would see his building. Being so close, only two structures away, I suddenly found myself unable and unwilling to physically stand. I was stuck at the knees, hobbled over myself with a body refusing to move.
“Are you okay?” a man questioned, approaching my hunched figure. I felt his hand on my back, causing me to flinch.
“Yes. Sorry.” I recognized the man as one of Julian’s neighbors and was disappointed in my quick need to demonstrate manners. The deviant, as Julian denied ever grumbling when the man refused to peel his eyes from me upon meeting. It was ironic to share space with Mr. Hill so close to Julian’s home, considering his interruption outside the elevator on Saturday gave opportunity for Julian to give me the necklace that now burned in my pocket. I was on a mission, and he interrupted it. No, he didn’t. You’re the one refusing to move when you’re literally within sight of his home. He probably wasn’t even home. It didn’t matter. Why’d I come?
“You’re…yes, I thought so.” The man smiled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “Miss Leary, is it?”
“Yes.”
His eyes wandered the length of me, narrowing at my boots before returning on the same slow path they had descended. “I’d be happy to let you inside.”
“Pardon?” His stare left me feeling anything but comforted. Mr. Hill’s hands lifted from his pockets while he gestured behind him to the monument of my destination.
“I’d be happy to let you inside,” he repeated, motioning to the building. “You’re on your way to Mr. Molloy, right? No security either…shame. Come, let me take you there.” I yanked my arm from his touch, his fingers starting to wrap around my bicep.
“Thanks, Mr. Hill.” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my parka, politely stepping aside. “I’ll manage just fine. It was nice to see you. Have a wonderful weekend.”
I hate being nice to assholes. Pre-Julian, I would have drop-kicked that sleaze ball for merely looking my way. PJ. Pre-Julian. Pre-life-altering-heart-stopping-soul-shattering-Julian. I needed to be polite to Mr. Hill because, as my soul was beginning to suggest, I might actually care. I took a step and then stopped. This is progress. Way to go, girlfriend. You’re almost there. Just about ninety-nine more. I couldn’t move. I didn’t know what to say to him. He’s probably not even home. Just go and see. Snarling at my subconscious, I took a few more steps, then a few more, and finally found myself within earshot of the doorman. Can’t. Feel. Can’t. Breathe.
“Ah.” The doorman turned to see me standing with my body tightly clenched beneath my arms. “Miss Leary. It’s lovely to see you. Although I’m sad to report Mr. Molloy has already left for the morning. He did mention to me that you’re welcome at any time, any hour, and so on. Would you like me to let you in or…Miss Leary?”
My eyes danced around the imposing glass door of the building, the aroma of the city mixing with the warmth of the lobby as people opened the doors and sent my thoughts directly back to Julian. “Wh—When did he mention that to you?”
“He’s—” The doorman stepped closer, nodding to a resident who approached the door to enter. “He’s told me that every morning and every evening. Well, actually, he tells me that every time I see him.” The doorman was chuckling politely, the cloud of his laughter thickening in the frozen air.
“Oh?”
He nodded, his gray hair bouncing with the movement. “He checks to see if you’ve come. He’ll be delighted, I’m sure, to know you were here. Have you been on holiday?” Think. Um. Yes. Total vacation. I was in the Bahamas, working on my freckles.
“I own a coffee shop, and I’ve just…so busy.” I tried to smile at the elderly man, receiving his soft expression. “Actually, could you just give him something for me? I don’t want to hassle you with going in and…well, I need to get back to work.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” What am I doing? He watched me expectantly, waiting for whatever I was going to give him. I was more aware of the strange feeling of the diamonds within their envelope while I stood outside of Julian’s building. I reached for my pocket, unfolding the wrinkled envelope in my palm. The doorman held his hand out for it, but I couldn’t lift it beyond my pocket to give it away.
“Miss Leary?” No. I can’t. It was the last thing he gave to me. An angel and a devil. They work well together. Last night, I could only think of releasing that final tangible piece of him, but while the doorman waited, his patience running thin despite the gentle smile along his wrinkled mouth, I refused to let go of it. I can’t.
“I’m sorry.” My brow furrowed, surely leaving him confused as to how Mr. Molloy could associate with such a nut. “I didn’t…I didn’t bring the right envelope. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
“No worries, ma’am. I’ll be sure to tell him you came. He’ll be delighted.” He stepped away, repeating his words like an echoing leprechaun. “Just delighted.”
It was hard to imagine delight and what that would truly look like on Julian’s face. I could only see it in my dreams, the softness and innocence of a contrived image reflecting my own hope and affection. I turned to look at his building once I reached the intersection one block away, my eyes drawn to the floor he occupied, imagining what happened beyond those windows and what could happen. With the necklace stuffed into my pocket, practically adhered to my body, I headed back to work to save Matt and drink enough coffee to replace the trembling along my hands with the buzz of sweet, savory caffeine.
I entered through the back, hoping to sneak in and not disturb the flow of customers. I also desperately needed a transition, a moment to wipe the frozen tears from my cheeks. I came so close to Julian, feeling the warmth of air push around me as people opened the door to his building, but still remained so far away.
“You’re ba—what’s wrong?” Matt startled me, approaching while I held the cuffs of my shirt against my eyes.
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just…it’s hard to think about leaving.” Julian. It’s hard to think about leaving him. Him.
“Aww, Aideen. Do you need a hug or something?” His flannel-covered arms shrugged, the enormous fraternal grin spreading his mouth with a kind smile.
“I’m fine, Matt.” I waved him off. “I’ll be fine. Back to work for both of us now. Go on. Go on. I’m still your boss until I leave.”
“Oh.” He laughed. “Fine. It slowed down a lot since you left. Just a few people lingering around.” We walked together back into the space between the office and the beginning of the counter, still out of view from customers.
“I’ll be right there.” I wiggled my fingers into my pocket, pulling out the envelope. “Just a minute.” Matt nodded, continuing toward the register, waiting for customers to arrive. He wasn’t exaggerating; it was really slow. Fine with me. Less bullshit and fewer fake smiles. I hate fake smiles.
Holding the necklace in my palm, its weight heavier than a tangible measurement, I rolled my free index finger over the stones before locking the necklace around my neck and adjusting the way it fell against my chest. I knew it wasn’t meant for a long-sleeved white shirt, but things can change. Can’t they?
Anchored and still burning with guilt, I stepped toward the espresso machine in preparation of my third drink of the day. I anticipated being awake all evening as a result, only finding solace in my dreams. I craved them with a physical and emotional thirst—a passionate hunger for the feeling they left burning inside of me, whether hallucinations or truth.
“Cappuccino,” Matt nodded toward me while I was in the middle of making myself a mocha, “for here. Medium.”
“Okay.” I smiled at him, accepting the blue ceramic mug he waved in my direction. I glanced at my chest while I steamed my almond milk, mesmerized by the sparkling stones that weighed against me.
“Aideen! That’s going to be one seriously hot drink,” Matt shouted, stepping toward me. “Wake up!”
I pulled the cup of milk away, having lost focus and almost killed myself with a two hundred degree beverage. Get it together. I placed my milk to the side, wiping the steam wand with a clean rag before beginning to make the ordered cappuccino. Matt stepped away, still chuckling at my distraction.
Once the cappuccino was served, orders slowed to nothing. Matt asked again about watching the news to see if swimming was on, to which I didn’t object. In the wake of customers, he was floating back and forth between the storage room, the television, and the front counter.
“It’s not on,” he groaned as he approached me for a third time, carrying a canister of black tea in his hands. “We can turn it off.”
“Whatever.” I sighed lightly, leaning my elbows against the counter, mindlessly twirling the pendant in my fingers. I forgot about my milk, sure it cooled to room temperature at that point, and started to reach for it when Matt slowly walked toward me from the register.
“It’s another honey latte,” he mumbled, handing me a large ceramic mug. “Almond milk and extra honey.”
“What?” I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the diamonds, my other hand releasing the cup of my cooled milk.
“Large honey latte, almond milk, with extra honey,” he repeated the order, staring at me like I was a fool. His brows met in humored confusion while he set the mug next to the espresso machine and stepped out of sight to the register. No.
My skin burned with a dangerously optimistic wave of hope. I could smell the electricity in the air that slowly spun around me like a heavy, intoxicating breeze that lured me in like a pathetic pawn. I was terrified, stiffened with anticipation while I stepped from the espresso machine toward my fate. Breathe. His back was toward me, giving me one more second to collect the shaking air in my lungs. Oh my God. Fuck. Lattes. Nutmeg. Diamonds. Mob. Julian. Lord. Buddha. Breathe, Aideen.
Even from behind, only able to observe the way his tailored black dress shirt tightly stretched along his muscular shoulders while he held his phone against his ear, and the way the seat of his slacks stretched while his free hand rested in his pocket, he was deathly stunning. Deathly was an understatement. I already died with and for that man, leaving the shattered pieces of my prior self lying in wake of the past somewhere on the path between work and his building. Licking my lips, I opened my mouth to say something to him, but he slowly spun around, ceasing all function of my body. He looks like shit. Beautiful, gorgeous, amazing shit.
“I noticed the drink I ordered isn’t on the menu.” His first words to me in a week sang into my ears. “I hope it isn’t inappropriate of me to order it.”
“It-It’s fine,” I stammered, watching his eyes scan my face, as mine also took him in, hoping not to wake from that dream. “It’ll just be a minute.” I am standing here like a stammering fool, paralyzed by the potency that is Julian.
“I have the time.” His lips twitched. I wasn’t moving, my brain not yet processing the fact I convinced myself the night before that Julian was a bad man, someone from whom I needed to leave, planning my escape from Boston. I didn’t want my brain to think that. I couldn’t. I kept the necklace for a reason larger than pawning it to pay for moving expenses. It was from him.
“My latte,” his throat cleared, reminding me I actually needed to move, “please?”
“Right.” I blinked, flustered and embarrassed in his presence. That was not me. I don’t fluster; I don’t embarrass. I kick ass and destroy, but seeing him again, hearing him, even smelling the delicious warmth of his cologne, every particle of my existence melted at his feet.
I hadn’t pictured it like that, with Julian coming to me after a week of nothing, asking me to make his coffee. Some things don’t change after all, babby. He stood at the end of the counter, in the small space denoting an entrance for staff. Julian stormed through it two weeks ago, with complete disregard for boundaries I hadn’t defined or enforced. Goose bumps spread along my skin just feeling his eyes on me while I made his coffee. I reheated my sad almond milk, adding extra honey to Julian’s mug, and brewed enough espresso for both of our drinks.
“Um,” Matt whispered, leaning against the counter at my side, “that’s not the same ass munch from Tuesday, is it?”
“No.” I chuckled. “It’s his older brother.”
“I assume he’s just as much of an arrogant prick then, huh?”
I looked beyond Matt’s shoulder at Julian, his blue eyes apprehensively staring at me, and returned my glance to the mugs in my hand. “He’s an even bigger one,” I whispered, walking around him to hand Julian the steaming latte. “Anything else I can get for you?” A hug? Maybe. My mind screamed at me with frenzied terror at the mere thought of him just days prior. Had my heart finally won? Won what? This isn’t a contest to which I know the rules. I remembered only shattered pieces of a nostalgic puzzle to which I hadn’t concluded a truth. He’s waiting for me. I let my eyes scan the enormity of Julian, his vigorously well-maintained frame stretched into flawless height. With the mug in his right hand, Julian motioned with his left arm to the window.
“Is it too much to ask if we could talk?” His voice was hushed. “I won’t keep you.” That is a threat I don’t like. In my dreams, he always promised to keep me. I nodded, slowly following Julian to the small table next to the snow-covered window. He pulled out my chair first, waiting for me to sit before he pushed me under the table and took his own seat. His knee bumped mine, forcing a thunderous wave of electricity through my skin.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his eyes darting to the window. I bit my top lip, lost with similar nerves and consuming emotion while we sat in a heavy silence. His eyes returned to me, drifting along my face to the necklace. I watched him, studying the way his eyes squinted in realization, glowing slightly brighter before they found mine.
“How do we…”
I reached my right hand across the table, briefly holding his fist clenched with nerves while my skin seared by his contact. “Just think of it as two old friends sharing a cup of coffee.”
“Two old friends.” His lost gaze trailed from my hand to my eyes, reflecting a hint of the sparkle lost whenever I saw him on the news.
“Two old friends,” I repeated, removing my hand and replacing the burn of his skin beneath mine with the scalding warmth of my mug. Julian cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, both forearms resting on the table and his head tilted to the right while he watched me.
“I’m honored you kept that,” he said, gesturing to the necklace. “Fuck, Aideen. How—” Julian’s hands lifted, allowing his face to take refuge behind his fingers while his head shook in disbelief.
“I know,” I whispered. “I don’t know how either, Julian.” Julian. His name chilled me, warmed me, pulsed through me like it was my own blood. It came too naturally to my tongue, as if part of my personal lexicon. My tongue, my lips, they would only ever say his name; his name was the solitary sound my mouth willed to speak.
“I wanted to come here every morning,” he blurted. “I had these dreams that I would come here every morning, waiting for you to be ready to talk to me, hoping you would even want to talk to me.”
“What stopped you?”
“Your temper.” He smiled, his soft chuckle breaking the ice that trickled in from outside and lingered between us. “And I know you’re a person of space. When I woke up on Sunday…”
“Julian,” I shook my head, “please don’t. Not right now.” His hands dropped to the table, reaching for his mug while I pleaded with him to not start the discussion of our weekend, the omissions and truths. I knew I wouldn’t last five minutes without access to a hefty box of tissue and maybe three bottles of wine. I do love wine. He has fancy, tasty wines in his fridge. Don’t go there, mind. Not yet.
“What are you doing tonight, Aideen?” His stare was piercing, slicing fragments of me while I replied to his velvet sound.
“Moving.” I bit my lip. “Trying to, at least.” Julian’s brow furrowed, meeting with confusion and disappointment. I felt it. I lost my thought while observing Julian’s tongue slowly moisten his perfect lips. I want to bite them. Both of them.
“Moving?”
“I can’t stay in that apartment anymore,” I clarified. “You know that. It’s a horrible place that only brings me pain. Even after you had someone clean and redecorate it. You really don’t understand boundaries, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” he replied, his face calm. “May I at least take you to dinner before you move? Nothing formal. Consider it two old friends sharing a laugh.”
“A farewell party.” I nodded, looking away from him. “Bon voyage?” Julian’s formidable hands crawled along the table, grasping both of mine while his thumbs pressed into my palms, dragging my attention back to his radiant eyes. His skin was soft, warming my hands while he cradled them.
“It doesn’t have to be.” His whisper barely crackled from behind his moistened lips. It doesn’t have to be. Doesn’t it?
Buried deep within Julian’s determined, hopeful stare was desperation flickering like a violent thunderstorm.
“Doesn’t it?” My eyes drifted, avoiding the swirling clouds of gray and blue, which provoked my heart with the fervor of a storm at sea. “I don’t know what to believe, Julian. I don’t know what to remember.” His hold against my hands tightened, grabbing my attention and my eyes.
“You said my name three times now.” His lips fought their desire to smile. “I don’t frighten you as much as I did.”
“Oh.” I laughed. “You still scare the shit out of me, but at least we can be honest about it.” I watched his lips fall into a silent pout, humoring my confidence even further.
“Julian.” I tugged my hands from his grasp, catching his eyes. “Knowing what I know and assuming to understand what you’re capable of, my mind is being held captive and in the dark. I can’t imagine living without fear. It’s everywhere. You’re everywhere. I have to go.”