Chapter 20

 

I’d been in New York exactly twelve days.

The time was about to run out on my Airbnb.

I’d met Jean and gone with him on two photoshoots that I absolutely loved.

I ate pizza from a street vendor in Central Park.

I saw the Statue of Liberty and found my family’s names at Ellis Island.

But the one thing I hadn’t done was see Jordan.

Well, not in person at least.

The rental gave a perfect view of the Brooklyn outdoor flea market where I knew he had a booth. I just didn’t go there.

I’d texted Jordan a few times just small talk when he’d message me.

He didn’t know I wasn’t still in Friendship, and I didn’t know where exactly he lived in Brooklyn.

I wanted to see first if this was where I was supposed to be. If I could survive in New York without him if I had to.

What I found was, I was fine on my own, but part of me was missing. Whether I liked it or not, Jordan would always be a part of me, and for better or for worse, I had to see if we could get our happily ever after.

The studio apartment my mom rented for me from Jean’s friend looked nothing like the pictures he posted online. The place was literally the size of the pantry back at the farmhouse in Friendship. And the pantry was probably decorated better than the moldy smelling apartment with tapestries covering the brick walls.

Jean had told me about some apartments available for rent in Williamsburg, and I could have kept looking. Hell, I could have done something while I laid in bed at night, looking at the water stained ceiling. But I didn’t.

I was flying by the seat of my pants and ultimately procrastinating from what I came to New York to do. I had to finally stop doing that and take a giant leap.

I’d burned my neck at least twice trying to straighten my hair in the tiny bathroom that I had to hunch over just to get inside, but I was ready. Ready to finally see Jordan again and hope we could mend the time.

August in New York was actually a comfortable temperature instead of the sweltering heat of North Texas, so I was able to put on a pair of faded denim jeans and a plain black t-shirt with a marble necklace I picked up from a street vendor in SoHo. I wasn’t sure if it was stolen or not, but it was pretty.

Slipping on my flats, I took one last look in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. This was it. This was either going to be my last day in New York before I bought a plane ticket home or the first day of the rest of my life.

Stepping onto the sidewalk in front of the apartment that was directly above a deli, I took in the smell that was uniquely Brooklyn: eclectic food and body odor.

Pushing my way through the crowd, I followed like a lemming on the crosswalk until I was across the street, staring at the different tents that made up the Brooklyn Flea.

Mom would have loved the place; except she would have told people they could shove it at the prices they wanted for their grandma’s junk.

I wasn’t sure where Jordan’s booth was—hell, I didn’t even know if he actually did have a booth or if he was lying about that too—but I had to take a chance.

Weaving through the rows of vendors, I finally found an artist row where different people were spray painting art on the sidewalk or trying to haggle people to come to their booth with promises of writing their names on their wooden trinkets.

But one piece of art practically smacked me right in the head.

Literally.

I stopped and backed up a few steps, looking at the beautiful charcoal piece in front of me. The same piece was designed on Jordan’s arm with the addition of brown eyes and a heart. The same additions that were on the piece of paper that had been in my pocket and folded and unfolded a million times since I opened the letter from Jordan.

Not only that picture, but dozens of others were displayed around the small tent along with re-imagined housewares like an old radio turned into a fish tank and some random things put together to make chairs and end tables. I think something covered every square inch of the space. He must have emptied out his entire apartment and Grandma’s house.

Beyond all the art, there he stood, talking to some woman in a headscarf who was holding two metal pieces with a stern look on her face. Finally, his shoulders fell, and he nodded before she handed him a few bills from her purse.

When the lady walked away with her items, Jordan leaned against a chest of drawers that was repurposed into a bar, complete with wine rack. Letting out a deep breath, he looked at the sky then covered his eyes with his hand. “What the fuck am I doing?” he mumbled.

“It looks to me like you turned your grandma’s dresser into a booze cart is what you’re doing,” I said, shoving my hands in my back pockets as I stepped over some small old copper pipes that were refashioned as shoe racks, complete with old red shoes to show the new purpose.

Jordan turned his head then moved his hand, slowly pushing off the chest as his eyes widened. “Am I dreaming or are you really here? Somehow saddled between all my junk.”

I smiled and shrugged. “I’m here, but I don’t think this is all junk. This stuff is actually really cool.”

“Yeah. Other people around here think it’s okay if they’re really hipster or I agree to sell it to them for less than it cost me to make it.” He shook his head. “But I have a feeling you didn’t come all the way here to buy my grandma’s old stuff or the random shit from my old apartment for that matter.”

“No … I’ve been here for a little while …”

He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t message me to pick you up at the airport.”

I shook my head, taking another step closer. “No. For the first time in my life, I had to figure things out. I knew if I spent the time here with you, I’d probably fall in love with the Big Apple if people even really call it that.”

He let out a single laugh. “I haven’t ever actually heard anyone around here use that name.”

“Well, the point is, I guess. I spent my time here, and as stupid as you’ll probably think it sounds, it just made me miss Texas.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and I put my hand out. “But I don’t want to go back there without knowing I gave us a chance again. It’s why I’m here, to see you being successful and doing what you love. Maybe go back to your apartment and have one last fun hoorah before I go back and the rental on my Airbnb runs out. I don’t know. I’m just rambling now, and I’m not great with words, but like your picture conveyed, my roots are deep in Texas. I may have some shitty friends there, and I may have more opportunities in New York, but it’s my home. It’s my…”

Before I could say another word, my breath was taken away as Jordan put his hands on my cheeks and crushed his lips to mine.

It had been less than a month since I’d last kissed him, but I didn’t realize how much I missed his taste. His sweetness. Until I gasped into his mouth and he finally pulled back, meeting my gaze with his beautiful blue eyes.

“Are you going to let me talk now? Maybe grovel?”

I nodded as much as I could with my face still in his hands. I was still in too much of a state of euphoria to speak.

Jordan licked his lips. “I didn’t tell you about Joey and Teagan, and that was wrong of me. I guess I didn’t want anything to stand in the way of you coming here with me and why I made such a big deal of it because the truth of the matter is … I’ve been lying this whole time.”

His eyes darted to the ground, and every hair on my body stood on end. More lies? My poor little, broken heart couldn’t take anymore.

“Oh.” I sighed because that was all I could muster to say.

“I lied about loving it in New York.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring dead on at him. “What?”

He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “New York hasn’t been everything I said it was …”

“But …” I put my arms out, looking around his booth at all the items. “You have all this.”

He let out a single laugh, but there was no humor to it. “I have this because when I got back to my apartment, there was an eviction notice on my door. I’ve been living out of my truck, parking in random spots to sleep at night, and we know there’s not much sleeping, so I’ve been working on this stuff whenever and wherever I can, selling all of it to make some money to either get another shitty apartment for three grand a month … or …”

He let out a breath, and his eyes met mine again. “Aunt Lynn offered to let me stay at Grandma’s. There isn’t a payment on it anymore, but she said Aunt Bev and Dad would want me to buy them out at least. I don’t have shit for a down payment, so basically I’d have to live there and pay rent forever or hope that people don’t nickel and dime me for every piece at my stand.”

“How much is that piece,” I asked, turning toward the charcoal drawing of Texas with the roots of a mountain laurel around it.

“For you, I’d be willing to negotiate …”

I raised an eyebrow. “How about enough for a down payment on your grandma’s? If you drive back to Friendship with me?”

“Are you serious right now?” he asked, his eyes widening.

I took a step closer and wrapped my arms around his neck. “This time, I’m not letting you get away. No more secrets. No more running. Just you, me, and Texas. What do you say?”

Jordan grinned wrapping his arms around my waist. “It’s a hell yeah.”