by Marie Landry
“What a special keepsake,” I finally say. Gwen and Evan went up to Toronto a few months ago to celebrate Jasper’s fortieth birthday, so the suitcase has to be older than that. No wonder it’s nearly falling apart. “I’m sorry about your parents. Gwen told me about their death, and Evan has told me stories from when you all were younger.”
“Thank you,” he says. “Their death was so long ago. Sometimes it feels like another lifetime.”
Unsure how to respond with words, I rest my hand on his shoulder. His muscles tense under my fingers, reminding me of Gwen’s joke about Jasper being allergic to displays of emotion and affection. I’ve always been a touchy-feely person, so I tend to fall back on that when I don’t know what to say. I remove my hand quickly and step away from him.
“I think I set out everything you’ll need for the night. There’s not much in the kitchen, but feel free to help yourself to anything you find. If you get cold, you can turn on the electric fireplace. When I moved in, the super told me the built-in heater runs really hot and can make your electric bill skyrocket, so my mom gave me the fireplace since it’s supposed to be energy efficient. Oh, and feel free to unplug the nightlight if it bothers you. I hate the dark, so there’s one out here and one in the bathroom, but you shouldn’t be able to see that one.”
I’m babbling. I know Jasper is listening to me, but he hasn’t looked at me since I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry for…touching you?” It comes out sounding like a question. “I wasn’t coming on to you or anything, I just wanted to comfort you. Sometimes I forget not everyone likes that form of comfort.”
He gives his head a little shake and meets my eyes, looking perplexed. “Oh. No. It’s not that. I was trying to adjust to the fact it feels like your Funky Pops are watching me.”
I don’t correct him. In fact, I might start calling them ‘Funky Pops’ myself. “I felt like that at first too. You’ll get used to it. Unless you want me to turn them all around for the night?”
He chuckles. Actually chuckles. He ducks his head so I can’t see his face, but the quiet, too-brief sound of his laughter has me holding my breath as my heart gives a hard thump. God, what is wrong with me? The man laughs and my body reacts like he just offered to strip naked and rock my world.
“That won’t be necessary, thank you. And thank you again for allowing me to spend the night.”
“It’s no problem.” That bubbly feeling has returned to my sternum, except this time it’s not nerves. It’s butterflies. Or maybe it’s both. “Have a good sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Willow.”
On the way to my bedroom, I veer into the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine. I’m going to need more than a glass to drown these butterflies.
CHAPTER FIVE
When I emerge from my bedroom the next morning, Jasper is sitting on the couch, fully dressed in dark slacks and a blue button-down shirt. You know, normal casual attire for nine a.m. on a Saturday. He has his phone in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.
“Morning.” It comes out sounding like a croak, so I clear my throat and try again. I’m not used to talking to anyone first thing, unless you count muttering to myself.
“Good morning, Willow.” He sets his phone aside and gets to his feet. His gaze sweeps over my Star Wars BB-8 pajamas before locking on mine. “I hope you don’t mind that I made coffee.”
“No, I’m glad you did. I meant to tell you last night to go ahead if you were up before me. Did you sleep okay?”
“I did, thank you. Your couch is very comfortable.”
I give him a sleepy smile and head for the kitchen, where I pour myself a cup of coffee. I peer into the fridge, making a face at the mostly empty shelves. “I don’t have much to offer you in the way of breakfast. I’m guessing you’re not a leftover-lasagna-in-the-morning type of guy.”
“Not particularly.” His voice is closer than expected. I pop my head over the top of the fridge door to find him standing a few feet away. “I had thought I’d make breakfast as a thank-you for putting me up for the night, but…”
“But Mother Hubbard’s cupboards are bare? Yeah. I need to shop at some point this weekend. I didn’t mean to let the fridge get this empty.” I say it lightly as if it’s not a regular occurrence. Since moving back to Bellevue, my fridge hasn’t held more than a few things at a time, and most of it has been leftovers from Mom or things I’ve brought home from the café. I suppress a sigh as I mentally pull up my bank balance. It might be time to swallow my pride and let my mother help me after all.
“That’s a really sweet thought, though,” I add. “We could go out for breakfast if you want. I don’t have to be at the café until later.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, coffee is fine,” Jasper says. “I don’t want to take up more of your time.”
I’m about to tell him I don’t mind and would actually enjoy having breakfast with him when his phone rings. He excuses himself before stepping back into the living room to answer. After a short, quiet conversation, he turns back to me. “That was Gwen. She says everyone is up, and I can come over whenever I’m ready.”
“Okay. You don’t have to rush off, you know. We could at least have coffee together.”
At first, I think he’s going to decline. I don’t want to ponder too hard over the rush of relief I feel when he nods and gestures toward the couch. I lead the way, noticing his blankets are folded neatly and topped with the pillows. I settle in and lean against the soft pile while he sits on the opposite end of the couch.
“You survived the night with the Funko Pops?” I ask.
His eyes light with amusement. “I did. When I was falling asleep, I had a sudden memory of Hadley as a little girl. She loved dolls—baby dolls, Barbies, Trolls. She had a vast collection from an early age. After seeing Toy Story, every last one of her dolls had to be put away at night because she was afraid they’d come to life while she was sleeping. Stuffed animals were fine for some reason, but the dolls went into her toy box or the closet.”
The fond expression on his face as he speaks about his youngest sister tugs at my heartstrings. “Did she get over it? Would she have said yes when I offered to turn the figurines around last night?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He scratches at his chin, drawing my attention to the dusting of dark stubble along his jaw. I would have thought Jasper would be the type to shave every day. Despite his outfit and his neatly styled hair, the shadow of a beard makes him appear more casual. And kind of sexy if I’m honest.
“Hadley lives with you, right?” I already know the answer, but it seems like a safe conversation starter.
“That’s right. She traveled abroad for most of last year and came back to Toronto last fall. When she started traveling again with her new job, she quickly realized it was costing too much to rent an apartment only to have it sit empty for weeks at a time. I offered her my spare bedroom, and she moved in a few weeks later.”
“You must get along well to invite her to live with you,” I say. “Is it weird living together as adults?”
“With Hadley away so much of the time, it often feels no different than it did when I lived on my own,” he says. “But when she’s home, we enjoy each other’s company. It’s nice having someone to cook for and do things with. I enjoy hearing her travel stories and looking at her photographs.”
Having pegged Jasper as a man of few words, I’m surprised to discover he’s actually quite talkative and doesn’t seem to mind answering my questions. I wouldn’t normally be so forward, but he’s my best friend’s future brother-in-law and we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks. Plus he did just spend the night in my apartment. “What do you do when Hadley’s away?”
Jasper smoothes an invisible wrinkle on the thigh of his trousers and takes a long, slow sip of his coffee before saying, “Work.”
“And?”
He clears his throat. “And work.” His
eyes dart in my direction, meeting mine long enough for me to see the sardonic look there. “I enjoy reading. I’m not much for TV or movies, except when Hadley is around and forces me to watch things with her. My therapist says…” He stalls, his posture going even more rigid as he straightens and clears his throat once more.
“Your therapist says…?” I prompt gently. When he remains silent, I add, “You don’t have to continue, but there’s no shame in therapy if that’s why you’re hesitating. I saw a psychologist for a few years in my teens after my parents got divorced, and started again a few years ago when I moved to Toronto.” I stop myself from saying more. Not because I don’t want to—I’m an open book—but because I feel like it would act as a distraction and keep Jasper from talking about himself.
His eyes meet mine for longer this time. His gaze is so intense it feels like I’m under a microscope. He must find whatever he’s looking for because he gives a short, decisive nod. “My therapist says I need to get out more. Spend time with friends. Date.” He says ‘date’ like it’s a dirty word.
Again, I already know the answer, but something compels me to ask, “And do you? Date, I mean.”
“No. I don’t enjoy dating. I find it uncomfortable and tedious. I can’t flirt, I’m socially awkward, and I’m terrible at idle chitchat. My therapist maintains I’d get used to it with a bit of practice, but why suffer through the agony of dating when I’m quite content being on my own?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a laugh from escaping. I’ve never heard it referred to as ‘the agony of dating’, but he’s not wrong. “Well, at least you’re very self-aware.”
He lets out a little puff of breath I think is meant to be a laugh. “Therapy has been good for something then.”
We slip into silence, both of us savoring the last of our coffee. With my body angled halfway toward Jasper, I watch him while his eyes scan my bookshelves. My imagination takes over, as it’s known to do, and for a moment I allow myself to envision this as a scene of domestic bliss. My tiny apartment feels different with a man in it; his presence seems to fill the space, and I like the way the light scent of his cologne hangs in the air.
Our life could be made of Saturday mornings like this, except I’d insist he stay in his pajamas. Or at least wear jeans—maybe even unironed ones. We’d cook breakfast together—because if I’m going to indulge in imaginings, I have a fridge full of food—and linger over coffee before heading to the market or taking a long drive in the country. I did some of those things with TJ, but he was a people person who wanted to be out, be seen, be on the move. I bet Jasper knows how to just be.
The sound of Jasper clearing his throat brings me back to reality and the fact he’s caught me staring at him while daydreaming. Oops. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize how inappropriate it is that my mind just wandered into picturing myself running my fingers through Jasper’s hair and undoing the top couple of buttons on his shirt.
“Sorry.” I shake the images from my head. “I…I was just thinking of what you said about dating. I hate it too. It would be so much easier if you could just meet someone naturally and spend time together, you know? Like this.” I wave a hand between us.
Jasper’s eyebrows pinch together before inching up. Great. First he catches me ogling him and now he thinks I’m—what? Hitting on him? After a moment, he says, “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m sure your therapist will be happy your social calendar is full for the next month or so with all the pre-wedding stuff.”
“Yes, she’s thrilled. When I balked at the idea of dating, she pointed out weddings are a good place to meet people. Then I pointed out I’ll be related to half the attendees since it’s a small wedding. Still, the socialization aspect should be beneficial in my quest to become less awkward in group situations.”
When he finishes speaking, his gaze flicks to my mouth, making me aware of the fact I’m biting my lip to hold in a smile. I don’t want him to think I’m laughing at him, it’s just I’ve never met anyone who talks the way he does or is so earnest. It’s equal parts fascinating and adorable.
“I’ll help any way I can,” I tell him. “I like to think of myself as an introverted extrovert. I enjoy being around people and can be outgoing when the occasion calls for it, but I also crave time alone to do my own thing and recharge.”
“So you’re like a…situational chameleon,” he says.
I let out a delighted laugh. “Yes! I like that—situational chameleon. So if you’re feeling awkward or uncomfortable, or if you need an excuse for a moment alone, come to me and I’ll do what I can to help.”
His eyes soften as his mouth curves the tiniest bit. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Willow.”
A moment passes where we simply look at each other, him with his barely-there smile and me with one that grows by the second. He breaks eye contact first to glance at his watch. “I’m not sure if Evan and Gwen have anything planned for the day, but I don’t suppose I should keep them waiting much longer.”
“Okay. If you’ll give me ten minutes to get ready, we can leave together?” It comes out sounding more like a question than the statement I meant for it to be. I try to ignore the voice in my head that tells me I want to prolong my time with Jasper, even if just for a few minutes. At his nod, I set my empty coffee cup on the side table and race to my room.
When I get back, Jasper is in the kitchen drying his hands on the plaid towel hanging over the oven door railing. Our coffee mugs are sitting side by side in the drying rack.
“Thanks for that,” I say, slipping my shoes on. He murmurs a reply and joins me in the front entryway to don his own shoes. After a quick visual sweep of the apartment to make sure all the lights are turned off and the coffee maker is unplugged, I follow Jasper out the door and down the stairs.
When we reach the sidewalk out front, I stop and face him. “I guess this is where we part ways.” My car is in the lot behind my apartment building, while Jasper is parked in the public lot around the corner. “It’s been nice having you around.”
His expression is a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Still no real smile from him, although I’m beginning to realize the way his eyes soften whenever he’s pleased or amused is the next best thing to a smile.
“Willow?”
My stomach clenches at the familiar deep voice behind me. He didn’t sound all that close; maybe I could pretend I didn’t hear him and usher Jasper toward the parking lot, then double back to my own car. When the voice repeats my name, closer this time, I steel myself and turn to face a blast from my past that’s as unwanted as it is unexpected.
“TJ. Hi.”
“Hi.” He steps forward as if to hug me. His eyes dart in Jasper’s direction and he stops short of making contact. His smile falters before returning to its full mega-watt brightness. “It’s so good to see you. Is this where you’re living these days?”
I hitch my purse up on my shoulder and clutch the strap, fingers digging into the faux leather. “Umm, it is, yeah. You don’t…?”
“Me? Oh, no.” He glances up at the squat three-story building with its slightly crumbling, faded facade. I’ve never been embarrassed to live here until this moment. Despite being in a decent part of town, it doesn’t take a genius to know this place is for people in need of something cheap. “I was actually dropping something off for a client who lives around the corner. Oh, one sec.” He holds up a hand while answering his buzzing phone with the other.
The moment TJ’s body is angled away, I whirl to face Jasper. “Play along. Please, please play along, and I promise I’ll explain later.” Jasper has just enough time to give me a bemused look before I loop my arm through his, holding on tight as TJ ends his call and turns back to us.
“Sorry about that,” he says, tucking his phone into the pocket of his suit jacket. His eyes go to where my arms are now wrapped around Jasper’s.
“No problem.” I don’t want to introduce the two of them, but TJ is eyeing J
asper curiously and Jasper is Mr. Manners, so I guess I have no choice. I’d love to tell TJ that Jasper is my boyfriend, but I’m not sure Jasper got the whole ‘play along’ thing. “Jasper, this is my ex-boyfriend, TJ Lewis. TJ, this is my…friend, Jasper Perry.”
I don’t release Jasper’s arm, so there’s no hand shaking as they exchange pleasantries. When Jasper attempts to free himself from my grasp, I hold on tighter. He bends slightly and speaks softly near my ear. “I really must be on my way, Willow. Evan and Gwen will be expecting me.”
“Right. Of course.” I just barely stop myself from begging him to take me with him as I release my death grip on his arm. I’ve done so well at avoiding TJ until now, and yet short of running back inside, I’m going to have to face him. Alone. I suppose it’s time anyway.
Jasper’s eyes meet mine, and I swear there’s a hint of humor in the dark depths. “Thank you for last night. I had a great time.”
Huh. Maybe Jasper’s not so oblivious after all. I’ll have to remember to give him more credit next time. “It was my pleasure.” I angle my body toward him, catching a glimpse of TJ shifting from foot to foot in my peripheral vision. I smile and mouth ‘thank you’ to Jasper as I lift up on my toes and plant a quick kiss on his cheek.
A hint of color blossoms in Jasper’s cheeks as he steps back. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man blush before. It’s quite possibly the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen, and it makes those damn butterflies announce their presence in my sternum again.
Jasper nods at TJ and murmurs, “It was nice to meet you.” To me, he says, “Willow, I’ll see you again soon.” He turns for the parking lot around the corner and disappears with a few strides of his long legs.