The One I Want

by Scott, S. L.

  I’m a realist.

  I know her tendencies, and although I started to believe in the big d-word—destiny—I was a fool for letting my guard down. “Babe?” I whisper so slight, hoping she’s asleep so we can tackle this tomorrow.

  “Yes?” she replies, sounding roused from sleep.

  “What do you think about Seattle?”

  She traces figure eights across my chest. “I’ve never been.”

  “Would you want to go?”

  “Sure.” Maybe there’s hope. She goes on, “We could visit Pike’s Place, the original Starbucks. We could be regular tourists when we’re there.”

  “We can.”

  “Could,” she corrects so innocently. She was always whip-smart, and that includes when we’re post-coital and even more so with her senses still on high alert. Kicking her arm up under her, she looks down over me. “What are you thinking, Drew? A visit? A quick trip? Or—”

  “Longer than a quick trip?”

  “Are you asking me? If you’re asking me, I vote no.”

  My swallow becomes a gulp, and her eyes redirect to my throat. When her hazels return to me, she asks, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  I nod once, still holding her around the back, her skin so soft just like I remembered. “On the way over here, I was told a trip I thought was going to be no more than two months has been extended.”

  “Two months?” Her mouth hangs open as shock shapes her features into disbelief.

  “That was before.”

  “How long now?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  “Indefinitely sounds like a move. You’re moving to Seattle?” Her daggered stare penetrates mine where all the apologies lay. She closes her eyes, and then when her lids fly open, she climbs out of bed. “This isn’t a discussion I want to have in bed.” Slipping on a robe, she leaves a huff of anger behind as she walks into the living room.

  I slip my underwear and a shirt back on before following her. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear—”

  “Me? You mean you don’t care?”

  “I care. I care a great deal. I’m the one being forced to leave.”

  “As if being left behind makes this easier? Spoiler alert—it doesn’t. I’ve been the last one standing, and it’s never fun. My parents left me. My grandparents. Fucking Karl took all he could and then packed his bags to go. So I understand the tough position you’re being put in, but I’m the one being abandoned.”

  “This is business, Juni. I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving this city. That’s all.”

  She positions herself on the other side of the couch. “It may be business to you, but it’s the same as it’s just the science we need to discover, which is what my parents said every time before they left me, too. You were becoming my everything.”

  “Not were. You are everything to me.” I deserve this, to hear every word though I already knew what she’d say and what she’d do before she did it.

  “Not if you’re halfway to Seattle already.”

  “That’s not fair—”

  “You know what’s not fair?” she yells. “Talking about a future that was never going to happen. Why would you even talk about living together when you knew you were leaving? Did you think I would drop everything, my life here, and run to live life in your shadow?” Her volume decreases with every word spoken. Not because she’s less angry, but more, and she’s trying to control it. She’s trying to control her emotions and tuck them safely back into her world, leaving me out in the cold.

  I move closer, coming around the couch. Her arms are crossed, and that fire in her belly is blazing in her eyes. She doesn’t move, holding her ground. “This isn’t about hurting you.”

  “But you’re doing it anyway.” Her voice is eerily low.

  “I’m not abandoning you, Juni. I won’t stay forever. Seattle’s not my home.”

  “Neither is New York. So if you’re looking for the location closest to your heart, you’re heading in the right direction.” Her arms finally uncross, and when a breath releases, her body’s resigned. “You always talked about LA, and I sat here and listened. I sat here hoping that maybe I was different. Maybe I was the one who would make you want to stay.”

  “I want to stay with you, but I—”

  “I know. You can’t. You go do what you need to do, and I hope you find happiness.” Her tone’s not cruel. It’s conflicting because it’s genuine. “But I think you should sleep at your place.”

  Standing there, I want to argue, but I think I’m out of opportunities to convince her of my true intentions. Her mind is set tonight. “You’re probably right. We need sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow after we both get some rest.”

  She moves to the door and opens it wide. I take the handle of my suitcase and walk into the hall. I turn to tell her good night, but she says, “Good night,” and closes the door before I have a chance.

  I stare at the door a few seconds longer, trying to process what just happened. It feels a lot like we just broke up. That can’t be right. We’re running off exhaustion and heated emotions. After a good night’s rest, we’ll be able to think clearly again.

  * * *

  Another chance to have this conversation in new light didn’t come. I spent most of my day hanging out in her hallway. It wasn’t until night came on Saturday that I found her on the rooftop with Rascal. I started for them but stopped when I heard her crying.

  I don’t want to sneak up on her or Rascal, but I’m not sure how to approach them. I stop overthinking because I’ve lost twenty-four hours because of that and start walking. “Juni?”

  She looks over at me and says, “Unless you’ve changed your mind, Drew, there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You say that like I have a choice.”

  Swiping at her cheeks, she raises her chin. “We all have choices, and it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

  “You don’t understand the position I’ve been put in. I’ve worked my whole life for—”

  “I know. You’ve told me. The thing is, I thought you’d changed.”

  “Change what? My career? How I make money to survive? What exactly was I supposed to change? I like my job. I know that sounds foreign to your ears, but just because someone loves what they do for a living doesn’t mean they’re lost to the dark side.”

  It was then, at that moment of anger, that I realized I’d crossed a line with her.

  There wasn’t fire in her eyes or a swift tongue to smart back. Her body language wasn’t resolute, but the opposite. That was the exact moment I lost her, and I knew it.

  Sorry wasn’t going to solve this.

  Begging wouldn’t keep her here or get her to Seattle.

  The choice had been laid before me without her having to say a word.

  I was stuck between my job and family on one side, and Juni and New York on the other. Yet I feel utterly and bitterly alone.

  * * *

  Just after six thirty Sunday morning, I wheel my suitcase through the lobby. Gil smiles at first, and then I see his true allegiance. I can respect him for that. Juni’s like a daughter to him, and I understand all about family loyalty. After all, isn’t that why I’m about to walk out this door? Although, this is more than just family loyalty. Hundreds of jobs are at risk if I don’t fix this insane issue.

  I go to the counter where he remains sitting. I guess that’s his way of taking a stand against me. Setting the envelope down on the counter, I say, “I was planning to give these to you at next weekend’s barbecue for your birthday.”

  “You should keep your gifts, Mr. Christiansen.”

  Christiansen. That tide turned. “I still want you to have it.”

  He takes the envelope and peeks inside. “I can’t take this. It’s an invitation to watch the game from the owner’s suite.”

  “It’s yours for you and a guest to enjoy the first home game of the season.”

  Standing, he stares at the tickets in his hand and then loo
ks at me in amazement. “How did you score this?”

  “I know a few guys, pulled a few strings. Take Nancy or Izzy—”

  “I’ll take Juni.” Hearing her name has my heart ping in my chest, and then it tightens.

  I keep my composure, like I always do. “Or Juni. Prepare her. They only set out a flower arrangement on the buffet. There won’t be any other plants in the area.”

  He chuckles lightly. “I’ll let her know before we go.” Pocketing the envelope, he asks, “You’re really leaving?”

  I take a breath that leans on the shakier side. It’s odd because I’m usually much steadier regarding my decisions. “It was only supposed to be temporary.”

  “One week can turn into more so easily. When I started working here twenty-seven years ago, I was filling in for a guy named Chuck. I covered his shift, and we never heard from him again. Sometimes, I still wonder what happened to Chuck.”

  Now he has me wondering about Chuck as well. And Juni, and if she’ll ever forgive me. “I’m not selling the apartment just yet.” When I walk to the door, it’s still closed. I look back at Gil who remains at the desk, and shrugs.

  “Sorry, Mr. Christiansen.”

  “I can respect that.” I push through the door, and add, “Take care, Gil.”

  I was hoping the car would be here, or what’s the point in scheduling a time? A familiar yap has my heart beating faster. I turn toward the sound, hoping to find Juni there. I don’t.

  Rascal tugs at the leash until it’s ripped from Mr. Clark’s hand. I kneel to catch the wild papillon. “What are you doing, boy? You know better than to make a run for it, you little troublemaker.”

  “Hold on to that rascal for me.”

  “He’s safe. No worries,” I reply.

  Mr. Clark finally arrives just under the awning. “I used to be faster, believe it or not.”

  Chuckling, I say, “I believe it.” It’s funny how I’ve never seen him walking the dog, only Juni until now.

  “I recognize you. You’re Juni’s beau.”

  I’ve never thought of myself that way before but hearing him say it, it feels good to wear that title. “I am,” I say, not sure if I have a right to the moniker anymore.

  “Mrs. Hendricks said you were getting married soon.”

  News to me. I chuckle, but there’s an ache in my chest that overcomes it. “No, we don’t have plans.”

  “Why do young people wait so long to start their lives these days?”

  I set Rascal down, holding on to the leash’s handle. Mr. Clark doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to take it from me. “I’ve been focused on my career.”

  “Pfft. I did that once. It got me shot down over open waters. Fortunately, a Navy ship picked me up. We lost the fighter plane, but they saved my life.”

  “Sounds like you were fortunate to survive.”

  He walks away. I’m not sure what he’s doing, if he has dementia, or if I should follow him. Sitting on a bench farther down the block, I look down the street to see if my car is coming and then wheel my suitcase and walk Rascal down to join him. As soon as I sit down, he says, “I was surviving only to return to my darling, Anne.”

  “Was that your wife?”

  “No, she was the girl I’d left back home. Though she tried to get me to marry her before I was sent off. I was a dumb son-of-a-bitch for not jumping at the chance. I wanted to become a war hero, make her proud first, to honor my parents.” He shakes his head with what I imagine is the same annoyance he felt then.

  “What happened when you returned home?”

  “I went to get the girl. I marched straight into that church and was given the sign I needed.”

  “What was it?”

  “The minister asked if anyone had any objections. I marched down that aisle and said, I do. I objected to living the rest of my life without the prettiest girl in that church.”

  Holy shit. Mr. Clark was a wild man. Watching Rascal chase a bug on the ground, I note the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “She was getting married?”

  He laughs, seeming to relive the memory in his head. “No, but her cousin was. I didn’t care. She didn’t either. We got married right then and there. Her family disowned me for ruining the wedding.” He waves it off. “They eventually came around in time to meet our first son.” He looks me right in the eyes, and adds, “The point is, stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment, and stop beating around the bush. If you love her, tell her. If you want to marry her, ask her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.”

  There are so many wise words tucked inside that advice.

  The car pulls to the curb, and I stand. Handing the leash over to him, I bend down and pet Rascal one more time. I take the suitcase, and say, “That’s a good story.”

  “It’s not about collecting stories. It’s about making memories worth sharing one day.”

  “Wise words.” I start for the car but stop to say, “Thanks for sharing.”

  “Take care, Drew.”

  I stop to look back. Juni’s the only one who calls me that, making me realize she’s been talking to him about us. Maybe that story was told to me specifically, or maybe he’s just good at reading people.

  Either way, it makes me glad she’s not completely alone. She not only has her makeshift family, but they’re one hundred percent supportive of her. For a while, I felt like I was part of that family. A part of the group who wants to see Juni happy. Thriving. Finding her dreams.

  I want to be the one who gets to come home to her.

  As the plane takes off for Seattle, I lean my seat back and ponder Mr. Clark’s words. “The point is, stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment, and stop beating around the bush.” Isn’t that what Juni said to me about moving in together? Not to beat around the bush? “I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.” But Juni has dreams and plans, as do I.

  Seattle isn’t forever. Fixing this problem with Beacon isn’t forever. It’s another hurdle, another work-related but salvageable problem. But that’s not what Juni is. Perhaps she’s my story. No, I want her to be my story. How do I make that happen, though?

  How do I make sure I have stories worth telling?

  34

  Juni

  His office has been empty for the past week.

  I successfully avoided it until this morning when I had to put a letter on his desk. The sad little ivy on the corner of his console caught my eye, and even though I was ready to hightail it out of there, I returned to check on it. When I rubbed a leaf between my fingers, my heart ached. Not for the plant, though that did as well until I touched the dirt and found it still had some moisture. No, it was this office, the belongings, the smell. The man. I closed my eyes, and his scent, like his aura, filled the room.

  Although there was a brief debate about leaving the plant alone since it had a corner office full of natural sunlight, I knew I needed to take care of it. I retrieved my watering can and let it drink up. Like me, it doesn’t take much to make it happy.

  Though lately, I haven’t felt like myself. I stood in the middle of Drew—Andrew’s office and let the memories wash over me. I didn’t know then, but I think I fell for him the night I saw him drunk. He was just so cute and at ease in his own skin. Charming and a little goofy. It took a few whiskeys to get him to loosen up. That changed when he was with me. It took catching him off guard. Shrugging even though no one can see me, I try to justify it to myself.

  There wasn’t a smirk, but a smile that came from seeing me. He’d probably fib and tell people he doesn’t remember that night. But I do. It’s when I decided I’d judged him all wrong. I mean, sure, I totally nailed his personality, but I didn’t expect to see the change in him. My affection only bloomed after that.

  Where did that leave me?

  In his office with him gone, now nursin
g the plant he left behind. Another thing I seem to have in common with the ivy.

  I decide this is the best place for it to live and grow. Maybe visiting and watering it in here, being present in this space without Drew, will do the same for me.

  When I walk out, Mary glances up from her desk. She says nothing and doesn’t ask anything of me. She just lets me return to my desk in peace.

  She’s a good person, and he’s lucky to have her. Even though her duties have lightened due to him having an assistant in Seattle, she keeps busy but not so stuck to her desk. I’ve seen more of her lately—in the break room or passing through reception at lunch—and sometimes, when I work late to organize the different stations around the office, she checks on me before she leaves.

  She pops into reception around two, and asks, “Want to grab a coffee downstairs?”

  Pointing at the headset on my head, I reply, “I’m not sure I can leave.”

  Laurie comes in behind her and punches the elevator button. “Ready to go?” She’s looking at me. This is different and exciting to leave the office. “Send it to the service,” she adds. “We’ll only be gone fifteen minutes.”

  Remembering my calculations from before, fifteen is usually forty-five, but who’s counting. I’ve been invited to join the cool kids for coffee. I grab my purse and send the calls to the answering service. “Ready.”

  We score an elevator ride by ourselves. Only a few seconds tick by before I’m rethinking my decision to come along. Mary asks, “How are you doing, Juni?”

  “I’m good. I’m fine.”

  She laughs with a kind smile. “Andrew always says that.”

  I hate that my own smile falls from the mere mention of him, but my heart currently feels a little battered. “It’s cliché.”

  Laurie nods, not like she’s judging my word choice, but more sympathetic to my plight. What that plight is exactly, I’m not sure. In the softest voice, she says, “It’s not against company policy.”