Page 15

“Deal,” Julien answers right away.

Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me. He seems more comfortable with silence than talking anyway.

With that settled, I brace myself for the most embarrassing attempt to enter a vehicle of my life and open the door. I’m about to throw caution to the wind and jump when a warm hand clasps mine, and then a solid wall of warmth buzzes with energy beside me.

Woah.

I can’t think about my body’s reaction right now, the way my whole body is on fire even though the night is cool. Breathing in through my nose does no good because I’m assaulted by his scent. It surprises me like it did when he sat beside me in the restaurant—light, with a bit of a sweetness. And I’m pretty sure he’s not wearing anything. That’s just how he smells.

I try to focus on how I’m going to kick my sister’s ass for leaving me in this position and accept Julien’s help to get into his truck.

My foot reaches the step, and I brace my weight against Julien as he helps me up. His strong hand in mine is so distracting that I wobble, and his other hand comes to brace my lower back. I linger a little longer than necessary, but as soon as I’m up, Julien’s hands are gone and so is the warmth at my side.

His door opens and then the reality of the situation settles over me.

The silence is loud.

When was the last time I was anywhere this quiet? With Levi at home, there’s always some sort of chaos going on. Even when he’s asleep, there’s always the anticipation of him waking. Plus, the white noise of the city filters in for a calming background buzz.

When I’m at work, the lab is always bustling with people—machines whirring, people talking, computers clacking. And in the classroom, when I’m not talking, my students are.

But it’s as if all the sound vanishes as soon as our doors shut. I can’t even hear him breathing. Am I even breathing?

“If y-you’re uncomfortable, I can g-get you an Uber. I know a few safe drivers.” His voice is so quiet, like he’s scared to startle me. Every time he trips over his words, my heart skips a beat. I can tell it bothers him, but it makes me think of Levi.

He does startle me, but not by speaking. With his words. I realize the truth is not in those words. I’m not uncomfortable because of him. More like ... because he’s him? Ugh, that doesn’t make sense.

“I’m okay, let’s go,” I assure him.

From my periphery, I see his head turn towards me, but I don’t turn to meet his gaze.

“You sure? I can—”

“I’m fine, Julien, really. Let’s go.” He waits a moment before the truck roars to life.

I finally look at him, trying to get rid of this weird tightness I feel. “How should I punish you for breaking our deal?”

“What?” His eyes go wide as dinner plates, and I have to work not to burst out laughing. Even in the dim light I can see the colour flushing his cheeks.

All the tightness in my body is gone.

Thank god.

“You promised you wouldn’t speak to me.”

His shoulders relax as understanding flashes across his face. He turns back to the steering wheel to put the truck in gear, but he doesn’t move.

“We aren’t driving yet,” he says. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You said not to speak to you on the drive.”

And we’re not driving. “Smartass,” I mumble.

When the truck still doesn’t move, I give him an exasperated look. “What are you waiting for?”

“Your address.”

Oh, right. He puts it into his GPS as I recite it as fast as possible. He keeps up with me, though, making no mistakes. When he’s done, he pauses, turning to me with an odd expression.

“What?”

He takes a breath and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something but closes it and then we’re driving.

That is one of my biggest pet peeves. It’s almost as bad as starting to say something and then ending with, “never mind.” Even if it’s inconsequential, you have to say it now or it’s going to bother me for the rest of eternity.

Not an exaggeration.

I play back the look he gave me and wonder what he was going to say as we drive through the busy streets of Vancouver.

My top contenders are:

You’re a pain in my ass.

Get out.

Do you want to get dessert? (Yes. Always yes.)

How will you punish me if I speak?

The last thought crosses my mind without my say so, and I cannot help the pool of warmth that spreads through me. Where did that come from? It can’t possibly be from seeing him work out so hard I felt my own muscles getting sore by proximity.

I’ve got to pull it together, to remind myself of all the reasons I should not like this man. Remember when he almost knocked me over and then blamed me for bringing my son to a party?

Remember when he deleted my dessert ideas from the Google Doc? Yeah, yeah, I deleted his first, but still ... His was one line and mine was almost a full, detailed page. It absolutely was not the same! And he got his way in the end.

I war with myself, going over every incriminating thing in my head, trying to ignore that stupid, reasonable voice that whispers I’m being a little too pissy about it.

For most of my adult life, I’ve had to fight for what I have. Hell, I had to fight for my life last year after a car accident. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit pissy, but I can’t trust myself to let my guard down .

The seat belt has to stay on. Always.

Especially around Julien, who seems to take a sledgehammer to my heart every time he opens his mouth.

I can’t wait to get home and snuggle Levi. He’s probably asleep already—poor little guy has been with Maggie and Thomas, and they are the most energetic grandparents out there. The kids get tired before they do.

But I know I’ll be carrying him from his bed tonight and snuggling him close, needing to hear the sound of his breathing and thank whatever higher being exists we’re both alive.

A thought hits me out of nowhere, and I tug on my seat belt to make sure it’s secure.

“You didn’t have any drinks at dinner, did you?” I can’t keep the panic out of my voice, causing him to turn to me and shake his head vigorously.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my heart. “Okay, good.” I can tell he wants to ask, but he’s not allowed to speak, so he doesn’t.

Do I get a little sick satisfaction from his obedience? Yes. I feel the smile tugging at my lips and I turn away from him to hide it. I don’t know if I was successful, though, and I don’t want to look back to check.

The rest of the drive is quiet. I don’t live too far, but with the Vancouver traffic on a Friday evening, the fifteen-minute drive has become thirty. And we’re not even there yet.

My leg begins to bounce. I’ve already texted Maggie to let her know I would be later than I thought, and I keep glancing back at the texts she sent .

Maggie

No worries, hun. Take as much time as you need

I mean it, if you need to stay out all night we’re happy to stay

*wink face*

I had to cover my laugh with a cough. Julien passed me a bottle of water without a word, and I took it less gracefully than I would have liked.

Stay out all night.

I haven’t stayed out all night in ... Damn. A decade? Since Ian and I lived together for so many years, there was no reason to stay out all night. And then Levi was born. Well, there’s been about as much opportunity as there is the chance I’d give up sugar for any length of time.

Zero.

That’s not entirely true though. Not the sugar part—there’s zero chance I would ever give up sugar. That’s the only thing motivating me to continue running. I read an article saying the best fuel for long runs is candy.

Sold.

No, there has been opportunity. I’ve been asked out by a colleague and every so often when I’m out with Paige, Isabel, or Dana. But it’s never felt like an option. Sex simply doesn’t entice me enough.

I want company. I want someone I can spend time with and feel comfortable being myself around—someone I can get mad at and know they’ll still love me. Someone who will love me even with all my flaws.

I need someone who will love my son.

Sex with strangers doesn’t appeal to me, and I’m never going to settle again. Not when I know epic love exists.

My sister has ruined that for me. And I’m so happy for her. I am.

Ninety percent.

But my heart hurts when I see them together and realize that’s probably not in my future. How likely is it that a perfect man is out there and will want me? Want us?

I’m so wrapped up in my spiralling thoughts, I don’t realize we’ve made it home until the truck lurches to a stop, my body held back by my seat belt.

“S-Sorry,” Julien mutters when the truck is in park.

“Hm?” I’m still a little lost in thought.

“I braked too hard.”

“It’s fine.” I unbuckle my seat belt but I don’t leave right away. What should I say? Probably thank you for the ride, but it wasn’t like I asked him. Still ...

“Thanks for the ride,” I tell him. I don’t wait for his response before flinging myself out of the truck. I did not need to put as much effort into the jump down as I thought so I stumbled but luckily did not fall flat on my face.

That would have been embarrassing for him to witness. Thankfully the truck is so high he can’t see—

“You okay?” he asks.

“AH!” I jump at the sound of his voice. I didn’t hear him get out of the truck. I try to collect myself as best I can given the heart attack he nearly gave me. “Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing?”

He furrows his brow, not understanding. “I’m taking you home.”

I gesture to the building. “You did.”

“Paige said to make sure you got home safely.”

“And you did. Thanks. Again.” I start walking off, but the sound of his footsteps follows me.

I round on him. “You don’t have to follow me.”

“Do you want me to walk beside you?”

The loud sigh that leaves my mouth is both overexaggerated and necessary. The couple on the other side of the street turns to see what’s going on. Maybe I was too dramatic.

Nah.

He looks incredulous. “What was that for?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Paige said—”

“Yeah, I know what Paige said. Fine, walk me to my door. Sure you don’t want to sling me over your shoulder, Caveman?”

I glance up and I swear his eyes darken.

“I don’t want to get scratched by your claws.”

Was that . . . ?

“Did you just make a joke?” What are the odds ?

He looks me square in the face when he answers, “No.”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing, and I’m still chuckling to myself when we get to the elevator.

The humour dies as the doors close, locking us in the little box. It’s even quieter than the truck. My mind races as I think of all the things I could say to him. With every new little detail I discover about him, I have more questions than answers. And he’s probably not comfortable answering any of them.

“I’m sorry if I was prying earlier,” I say, even though I’m not actually sorry. There’s no way I’d pass up the opportunity to ask a man how having a single parent affected him growing up.

“It’s fine.” He pauses and then takes a deep breath.

And still doesn’t say anything.

“Ugh, you are so frustrating!”

“What?” He genuinely seems bewildered.

The elevator dings, reaching the fourth floor, and I stomp off. I shouldn’t care so much about what he was going to say. Why do I even care?

I’m almost to my door at the end of the hallway, trying to focus on the fading speckled pattern on the blue carpet. What is that suspicious stain on the grey walls? I don’t think I want to know. My door is right there, the dark grey representing my sanctuary, if I can just—Julien steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“If I’m going to irritate you, I have to at least know why.”

“You keep opening your mouth to say something and then you never say it.”

His brow furrows as if he truly doesn’t understand. “So?”

My hands fly up and then flop to my sides in defeat. “I don’t like not knowing.”

“W-Why do you care what I have to say?” His face still looks like he’s puzzling me out, his thick, dark brows pulled together. I see a small nick I haven’t noticed in the top of his left brow from a scar. I wonder how that happened?

“It’s not just you, it’s anyone who leaves me hanging. It drives me crazy.”

A look passes over his face that I don’t understand. He straightens and sighs, as though he’s the one exasperated with me and not the other way around.

The nerve.

“I’ll have you know—”

He cuts me off. “My situation is different from yours.”

“What?”

“That’s what I was going to say.”

“Okaaaay ...” I draw out, waiting for him to continue.

He runs a hand over his silky curls, which are pulled back into a bun in his usual style. “M-My dad is a lot like me. He’s quiet, reserved.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” How did I go from being angry to reassuring him?

“It’s not,” he agrees. There’s a first time for everything I suppose. “But even though we had the same personality, I always felt a little out of place.” He gestures to himself. “Without my mom in the picture, and being lighter than he is, there was a missing piece of my puzzle. The white side wasn’t there.” He laughs a little at the joke. The sound is gruff, deep. I swallow. “I didn’t like that I was different from him.”

“I can’t pretend I understand—I’m whiter than a piece of paper—but thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not leaving me hanging.”