by Jamie Howard
She took the phone from me and smirked at it. “I’ve actually been looking for this all morning.” Her face brightened, and she pinned her bottom lip between her teeth. “Are you hungry?”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “The answer to that question is always yes.”
“Good, because I’m going to need your help.” She stepped back and opened the door wide, leaving me just enough room to squeeze through. I paused for a second in the entrance, taking the whole place in. Rearranging my expectations again.
“Nice place.” It was less than half the size of mine and Gavin’s. A small kitchen was on my right with updated appliances and granite countertops, a bathroom a little ways beyond that. The living room sat off to the left—just a small couch, coffee table, and TV. One wall behind it was filled with bookcases, and I took myself over there to take a peek. There was everything from Greek mythology to A Brief History of Time, all the way down to a biography on Eleanor Roosevelt.
“Not what you were expecting?” Her voice came from almost directly behind me, and when I turned around, she was leaning against the back of the couch, that beautiful smile still curving her lips. She wore it like it belonged there, like the only thing her lips knew how to do were to curve up at the corners.
I pushed the gray knit beanie off my head, my hair crackling with static. “Nothing about you is what I expected.”
“Funny, you’re almost exactly who I imagined you’d be.”
Something in my chest went tight, almost like I’d stopped breathing when I knew for a fact that I still was. Who, exactly, did she imagine I’d be? “I’m not sure whether that’s supposed to be a compliment or an insult.” My voice came out a little rougher than I would have liked.
Her gaze locked onto mine, those green eyes twinkling with mischief. She opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say got cut off by another knock. I glared at the interruption as Juliet scurried across the room.
She opened the door to the scrawny doorman I saw downstairs with a mop of red hair and a face full of freckles. He passed off a cardboard lid loaded down with a bunch of brown paper bags. “You really went all out this time,” he said.
“I actually restrained myself. If I’d gone with the original plan you’d have had a visit from at least four more deliverymen.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Only you.” His gaze slipped past her and landed on me, eyes narrowing. “Sorry, Jules. Didn’t realize you had company.”
She shoved him playfully in the arm. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get your leftovers.”
“Sweet.” His smile pinched at the corners, his jaw going tight. “I’ll catch you later then.”
“Thanks again, Eddie.”
“No problem.”
Juliet shoved the door closed with her bare foot, carrying the food over to the coffee table. She bent in half to peek into the bags, and I’d have had to be a blind man not to appreciate the sight she was giving me. Damn but she had a nice ass. And legs, too. All slim and long in those tight black leggings. I’d always gravitated toward tall women—had to really if I didn’t want to break my neck trying to kiss them—and Juliet probably topped out at five-feet-ten.
I wheeled myself into the living room where I caught her dipping her nose toward the bags for a healthy sniff. I bit back a laugh. “When was the last time you ate?”
“Real food?” She shook her head. “Months.” Brushing her hands together, she straightened back up. “Grab a seat and I’ll be right over with the food.”
I fought off the grimace that tried to overtake my face while I hefted myself from my chair to the couch, trying to be as graceful about it as I possibly could.
“Beer or water?” She tossed her question back over her shoulder as she sauntered into the kitchen.
“Water’s fine.”
She sat down next to me, crossing her legs underneath her. “Okay, I have a very important question for you.”
I ran a hand through my hair, dropping it down to squeeze the back of my neck. “All right.”
“Have you . . .” She paused. “Ever seen Fringe before?”
“That’s your very important question?” I rolled my eyes and went ahead and threw out every single preconceived notion I’d had about Juliet St. Clair. Despite making a living pretending to be other people, she was proving to be one of the most genuine, down-to-earth people I’d ever met.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a yes or no in there.” Her eyes watched me over her water bottle as she tipped it back and took a swig.
I grabbed my own bottle and twisted the cap off with a crack. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Well then, my friend, you are in for a treat.”
Chapter 6: Juliet
When I was fifteen, I stumbled into acting. I hadn’t wanted to be an actress, hadn’t dreamed about it, but I needed it. We needed it. I’d left the house to escape my dad’s tears and had somehow come back with an invitation to audition for a commercial. That was twelve years ago, almost a lifetime, but it was a lesson I never forgot—if the universe wanted to do you a favor, you shouldn’t question it.
So, Felix showing up at my door? I saw it as what it was—another present from the universe. Only this time, my gift was wrapped in a tight little concert tee that didn’t even try to hide all the muscles flexing underneath it. And geez, those arms? I wanted to lick the vein curving around his bicep, all the way up to—
I shook my head, directing my attention back to the screen. Not that I needed to watch to know what was going on. I’d re-watched this show more times than I could count. But hey, there was no such thing as having too much Joshua Jackson in your life.
Leaning forward, I snatched my half-eaten eggroll and took another nibble. The coffee table was like a food graveyard—crumpled up pieces of aluminum foil, grease-stained paper bags, crumb-speckled Saran Wrap. We’d actually demolished more of my feast than I’d expected. Though Felix was mostly to blame for it. God knew where he put it all since, as far as I could tell, he had abs for days.
And I was back to ogling him again. Perfect.
It was really only partially my fault. This dry spell I was in the middle of was starting to take its toll. It’d been nothing but me and Buzz since my ex, Erik, and I had broken up. And let’s be honest, there’s only so much fun you can have with a battery-operated boyfriend.
Felix shifted on the couch, his arm stretched out along the cushions. He glanced at me as the screen froze and Netflix judgingly asked if I was still watching. “I gotta ask you something.”
I twisted myself so that I was facing him, one cushion separating us. “Shoot.”
“How the hell do you manage to keep this place a paparazzi-free zone?”
“Ah, so you noticed that, did you?”
“Noticed it, envied it.” He grinned.
“All right, well, I guess I can let you in on my secrets.” I winked at him. “First, I actually own another place on the Upper East Side. Everybody thinks I live there. This place? It isn’t in my name. So really, no one should be able to find it if they’re trying to find out where Juliet St. Clair lives. Now the last part, I have to show you.” I hopped up and sauntered into the kitchen to grab my phone. There were a bunch of notifications layered across the screen, but I ignored them all and swiped them away.
This time when I sat back down on the couch, I took the cushion right next to him. My arm brushed against his chest as I leaned toward him to show him a picture on my phone. “What do you see?”
He squinted. “Looks like you getting in a cab.”
I swiped to the next screen. “And here?”
“You coming out of the gym.”
“Okay, last one.”
“You eating dinner.”
I dropped the phone in my lap. “Now what if I told you that only one of those pictures was actually me?”
His eyebrows reached for his hairline. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I nodded. “You met my assistant yesterday, Ally?”
“S
hit, that’s actually her in the pictures?” He huffed out a laugh, his hand sneaking over to tweak one of my braids. “That’s clever as hell.”
“Why, thank you. She gets to live in the fancy apartment and, believe it or not, she actually likes all the attention.” I nudged his knee with mine, then froze, silently cursing myself.
The easy smile he’d been wearing all afternoon slowly slunk away as his gaze landed on the spot where my thigh was still brushing his. I watched as the light dimmed from his face and a shutter dropped over his eyes.
I fumbled to recover. “You wanna know the trick?”
“The . . . what?” He blinked at me, like he was trying to wrestle himself back into the here and now.
“The trick to telling us apart.” I brought up the last photo I’d shown him, the one of “me” eating dinner and zoomed in. “Ally’s got this little birthmark right above her lip.” I tapped a finger against the same spot on my face. “See? No birthmark.”
His gaze dropped to where I was pointing, hesitating before dipping a little lower to settle on my lips. It only hovered there for a second, maybe two, before he squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. He blew out a breath. “It’s getting pretty late. I should probably go.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. Leave it to me to ruin a perfectly good evening. “You sure? I could order more food if you’re hungry again.”
“No way.” He clapped a hand against his stomach. “I’m not even sure I’ll be able to eat breakfast tomorrow.” The very corners of his mouth tipped up.
“All right, well, if I can’t convince you to stay.” I pushed to my feet, and the couch grumbled at me. “Do you need me to call you a cab?”
“Nah, I’ve got it covered.” He shifted to the front edge of the couch, then easily deposited himself in his wheelchair, those lovely muscles I’d been eyeing before bulging with the movement.
He wheeled himself to the door, spinning back to face me. “Thanks for letting me crash your day.”
“Thanks for keeping me company.” I propped my hip against the kitchen island. “You should do it again sometime.”
Humor twinkled in his eyes. “I should, huh?”
I nodded. “We do have plenty of episodes left to watch.”
“True.” He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his jaw. “How about sometime next week?”
“How about tomorrow?” I countered.
He barked out a laugh. “All right, tomorrow.”
“Good.” Crossing the few feet between us, I dropped a quick kiss on his cheek. I felt his start of surprise against my lips, and the graze of his fingertips against my thigh was lighter than a breath of air.
“I, ah . . .” He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You know where to find me.”
My smile stretched impossibly wide as the door closed behind him, and my heart gave a little flutter that I hadn’t felt in quite a long time. I was still frolicking around in my happy place when I spun around and managed to smack my giant pile of mail. Envelopes of all shapes, sizes, and colors scattered across the floor.
“Crap!” I dropped to my knees, gathering it back together in a haphazard stack. I picked up a thick manila envelope, unearthing a small white envelope underneath it. There wasn’t anything particularly extraordinary about it—it was regular-sized, plain in color, no return address. But the thick block lettering on the front, scrawled in black Sharpie, made my heart climb up my throat like it was trying to find a place to hide.
My eyes burned and the room around me started to blink in and out, tiny black spots that decorated the edge of my vision like paint splatters. It took me a second to realize I wasn’t breathing, wasn’t blinking. For those few brief seconds, my entire body forgot how it was supposed to act.
A tremor quaked through my hand as I reached for it, pinching the corner between my fingers. I slid my fingernail underneath the sealed flap and slipped out the square of white paper. It fluttered to the ground, twisting and turning in the air until it landed face up on the floor.
I read the words again, the weight of them crushing me.
I missed you.
Chapter 7: Felix
I stared at the ceiling, my gaze searching for any small imperfections in the pristine white paint job. But there wasn’t any. Not really. Not when you shelled out the kind of money Gavin and I did to make sure this place was done up just the way we wanted.
It was a big fat check mark for our decision-making, but a total downer in the I need a distraction column.
Marge hummed under her breath as she bent my knee toward my chest, rotated it outward, and then straightened it back out. Each repetition made my throat clench like someone was slowly strangling me. She kept it up for several more reps, and all the while I tapped out a quick rhythm against the leather cushion underneath me, counting down.
Three more reps until she was done.
Two more before I can breathe again.
One more and I can wash off my bitterness like dried sweat.
She gently set my foot back down, her hands finding their way to her hips. Her black curly hair frizzed out around her head like the ends had been teased with electricity. “You’re all done for today.”
I grunted, using my abs and elbows to lever myself up and swung my legs over the edge of the table. I brushed back the few strands of hair that’d managed to escape the tiny ponytail I’d tied them in.
Marge sighed, stepping right into my space. “Have you checked out any of those support groups I mentioned to you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Been there. Done that.”
“Well, it might be worth looking into again.” She waited until I’d reluctantly coerced my eyes up to meet hers. “Have you given any more thought about the KAFO braces?”
Right, like it wasn’t bad enough how much everyone stared at me in the chair. She wanted me to put on full leg braces and arm crutches so I could wobble around the room like a newborn giraffe on stilts. I’d always loved being a tall bastard, but for the first time in my life I found myself wishing I was shorter. Smaller. As invisible on the outside as I felt on the inside.
I shook my head, which coaxed another sigh from her.
“Kid, I’m worried about you.”
I twisted my lips up into a sexy smirk, the one I used to carry around with me in my back pocket and whip out whenever I needed it. “I’m fine, Marge. Really.”
She snorted like the classy lady she was and shook one knobby-knuckled finger at me. “Ten years ago that trick might have worked.”
“You saying you’re too old for me?”
“Not a chance.” She grinned at me, that wide smile edged with attitude. “But don’t think for one second that you’re going to distract me with that pretty face of yours.”
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” I clapped a hand over my heart. I was laying it on thick, but I didn’t care. I’d do anything to avoid this conversation. The same conversation we’d had every time we met for one of my PT sessions.
She tsked at me and turned around to pack up her things. “You know, at first I thought it was a good idea doing these sessions in the privacy of your home. But now I’m not so sure.”
My fingers clenched around the table. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m not sure this is a good idea anymore.” She straightened up and ran a hand through her hair, twisting one of the curly strands around her finger. “I’m just giving you another excuse to stay holed up in this apartment. It isn’t healthy, Felix. You need to get out of here.”
“I have been,” I blurted and almost immediately regretted it. Technically, I didn’t need Marge to come and help me out. We were past the point where PT was a necessity, but I liked the company. I liked the way that her being here made me feel like I wasn’t in this alone, even if I spent half the time she was here wishing I was anywhere else.
One eyebrow drifted up. “Is that so?”
“I . . . met someone.” Heat s
immered underneath my skin like someone had set a fire beneath it. “We’re just friends, but we’ve been hanging out.”
Her eyes narrowed, the thin crow’s feet at the corners deepening. “Hanging out where?”
“Her place. I’ve been over there”—I mentally counted—“four times now?”
Four times in a little over a week. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I sure as hell wasn’t in a position to make assumptions. Maybe she just liked my company. Maybe she really did only want to be my friend. But as far as I was concerned, there wasn’t any maybe on my end.
I definitely did not want to be her friend. And I definitely wasn’t confused about the way I felt. Every time I was with her, she made me feel like me. The me I’d lost after one night’s stupid mistake.
Not that anything had happened. We ate, we watched TV, and we sat on the couch, that one damn cushion like an entire continent between us. And then every night she’d say goodbye and kiss me on the cheek. Her lips were like a brand and even now I could tell you exactly where they’d grazed me.
Marge hmphed under her breath, and I scooted down into my chair, wheeling myself closer to her. “You don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you.” She swung her purse up over her shoulder, the soft leather bumping into her side. “I’m just wondering how long you think a girl is going to be willing to hide away with you.”
My mouth did its best goldfish impersonation. It’s not like I hadn’t thought about it. And hell, we’d cross that bridge when we got there. Right now, Juliet was just as content staying tucked away as I was.
But Marge, man did she love to dish out the tough love.
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I’m working on it, okay?”
“That’s what you always say.” She pursed her lips, her eyes taking the long trip over my body like she was committing it to memory. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
I walked her to the door, shoving it closed after she left. Wheeling myself around, I coasted into Gavin’s room, flicking on the light as I went. He groaned into his pillowcase, burying his head deeper.