Right Where I Want You

by Jessica Hawkins

  “These are my roots,” I said to Justin. “This is who I really am. I’m afraid, now that I’m on my own, this is the only thing keeping me from becoming that guy in the exposé.”

  “Wow, man. That’s heavy.” Justin blew out a sigh. “I get it. I really do. But it’s a lot to pin on a piece of real estate. Why do you have to be anyone at all?”

  I turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re complicating things. Just be who you are.”

  We had a saying at the office when brainstorming sessions or design concepts went off the rails—KISS. Keep it simple, stupid. From Quintanilla to Quinn, Boston kid to city playboy, I’d been trying to keep those parts of myself separate. To slip those identities on and off. But I was still that punk who’d hustled to become the man I was now. I was both. Without Mom to put me back in my place when I needed it, I was clinging to this, an empty shell of a house. “I’m overthinking it,” I said.

  “You’re never going to forget where you came from or where you’ve been. You’re not my friend conditionally, dependent on which Sebastian I’m getting. You’re just Sebastian, dude.” Justin folded his arms over his chest. “And I’ll bet Georgina sees you as one whole man, not in parts.”

  The way George and Georgina existed only in her head. To me, she was just herself—strong, capable, sensitive, sweet, soft . . . kind.

  And mine.

  If she’d still have me—as the man I was.

  Opal strained against her collar until Justin released her. She galloped down the hall, jumping on me. I crouched and ruffled her fur as I glanced up at Justin. “That four-page spread on Valentine’s Day gift ideas for every type of sweetheart—think we can push it?”

  “Considering the issue after that will be March, I don’t think so.” Justin cocked his head. “But we could move some things around if we do it quickly. Why?”

  “I need a few pages and some prime real estate on the cover.”

  Justin shrugged. “Who’s going to stop you?”

  Nobody, that was who. I’d just faced off with the biggest obstacle in my path. Now that I’d confronted the house, I wanted to go home.

  27

  GEORGINA

  My new assistant waved at me through the window of our conference room, and I motioned for her to come in.

  “Countdown to the new guy’s first client pitch starts now,” Tonya said. “I’m making an office Dunkin’ run to keep him caffeinated. Want anything?”

  I clenched my jaw to stem the emotions that flooded over me whenever I thought of Sebastian. Not even moving hundreds of miles away could distance me from his ridiculous obsession with that place. Or from him. “No, thanks,” I said.

  Who needed caffeine when you were fueled by the need to forget a broken heart?

  I was exaggerating a little. Things had been moving at a breakneck pace since I’d arrived in Boston—my job had been hectic, scary, and oddly fulfilling. It kept me busy, that was for sure, but it seemed there was always time to miss Sebastian.

  I returned to the research I’d been compiling on a local TV station. It was currently succumbing to a shitstorm brought on by an opinionated, drunken weatherman. It was a beginner’s assignment, but I had about three people on my team I was still getting to know and had to decide who to put on it.

  I couldn’t focus on the work in front of me. I tried not to think of Sebastian for this reason. Once I started, it was difficult to stop until I fell asleep at night. And hopefully, I didn’t dream of him. Or wake up with my thoughts full of him. The fact that I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the vet didn’t seem to help, either. A clean break had only made my mind messier.

  Boston was full of surprises the way New York had been when I’d first moved there. Bruno and I lived within two blocks of Peters Park and still spent plenty of time outdoors despite winter. Finding the right apartment, getting my furniture from Brooklyn to Boston, hiring a staff and team that worked well together—it wasn’t easy, but no two days were the same, and I’d met so many people in the short time I’d been here. Plus, word-of-mouth was beginning to spread, which indicated I was doing my job right.

  Nothing filled the void Sebastian had left, though. None of it had eased my guilt for pushing him away, even if I’d realized my mistake and tried to bring him back in the end. Every time I was tempted to read his pieces in Modern Man or listen to his podcast—each time I picked up the phone to call him—I was reminded that I’d already asked him to come with me, and he hadn’t. He had his own demons, but he wouldn’t face them until he wanted to.

  After another forty minutes trying and failing to focus, I packed up my things and headed down the hall. Tonya talked into her earpiece, pointing through the door to my office, mouthing something I didn’t understand.

  I entered the sunlit room, rounded my desk, and paused. The February issue of Modern Man: A Gentleman’s Guide topped a pile of mail, but it was about a week early. Aliana Balik clutched a silky red Dior robe over her breasts. The headline read, “Aliana: Mother, Activist, and our First Woman of the Year.”

  “Tonya?” I asked. “Did this come in the mail?”

  After a moment, she rolled to the doorway in her chair and held up a note that read “Delivered by messenger.”

  An early copy, all the way from Dixon Media Tower—from Vance? Justin? Or Sebastian himself? He’d scored Aliana, and on the Valentine’s issue no less. He must’ve been elated. No doubt there’d been much discussion over which adjectives to use for her. She embodied many—glamorous, buxom, sensual. But that didn’t need to be said, because it was all there in her eyes. Show sex, say class. I hoped I’d had a presence in the room when they’d chosen activist over temptress and mother over model. From that headline alone, I didn’t have to read her feature to know they’d honored her instead of objectified her as Woman of the Year.

  The sultry yet festive cover looked severe against my white lacquer desk. I picked it up, my eyes drifting to what my research had revealed as the next most important real estate—a heading right of the middle.

  “The Bad Boy Issue (It’s Not What You Think)

  by Sebastian Quinn (He’s Not What You Think)”

  I froze. It was rare for Modern Man to include a byline on the cover and even more unusual that Sebastian would claim the “bad boy” moniker after what he’d been though. Why would he do that? I flipped through the glossy pages and stopped on a full-page candid shot of Sebastian in a tux, augmented by a subheader:

  Some final advice from a former fake bad boy. And this time, it’s good.

  I turned back to page one of the spread and read.

  A question I frequently get as creative director of one of the fastest growing men’s lifestyle magazines is how a man can get a woman to notice him. In the next several pages, I interview some high-profile men who’ve happily traded their bad boy statuses for families.

  But that isn’t enough. I took this pervasive issue a step further and offered myself up on the chopping block to get answers for all of you. I’m ready to make the trade myself, so the challenge: could I win over my dream girl?

  Here’s what I learned dating a woman so far out of my league, we weren’t even playing the same sport.

  Clutching the magazine open, the next inset quote knocked me off my feet and into my chair.

  She’s the stuff of dreams but don’t call her my dream girl. She was as real as it got.

  My breathing sped. I couldn’t help thinking back to the first time he’d spoken to me, how I’d frozen in fear and insecurity that a man of his stature would even look in my direction, much less strike up a conversation with me.

  What makes me qualified to give you advice?

  Not much. You might think differently after the headlines that’ve been printed about me, but you’re about to find out I was never a bad boy. I’m just another schmuck trying to get a girl to look in my direction. More on that in a moment—what you need to know now is that I’ve given a lot of advice in my life, an
d even more badvice, but there’s no harder way to learn life lessons than by falling for someone.

  Because I met ‘the one’ while looking for anyone else—and then I lost her.

  I’m going to tell you how not to make the same mistakes, and we’re starting with the basics.

  You don’t know what women want.

  I never did, but that’s because the answer is as complex as the woman herself.

  My heart beat overtime. The skeptic in me stopped to wonder if this was a ploy to get eyeballs, but the Georgina in me knew the truth. Sebastian was laying his heart on the line—but to what end?

  She’s the stuff of dreams but don’t call her my dream girl. She was as real as it got. A heart and soul girl. A kind person. A woman. At first, I loved to hate her, and then I hated to fall for her, but the truth is I’m made for her. The way gummy bears are made for brainstorming, gentlemen are made of more, and cinnamon is made to sweeten buns.

  With a dry mouth, I consumed every word as Sebastian revealed the truth about his past, his reputation, and even his surname. The final paragraph left my heart in my throat.

  And it’s with this newfound knowledge that I make my departure. My time at Modern Man has been valuable, eye-opening, and illuminating. I’ve become a better man for it in some ways and worse in others. I look forward to new challenges ahead and a clean, honest slate with which to approach them.

  He was leaving the magazine.

  My phone pinged with a text from Sebastian. The timing was too fortuitous for him not to have sent the magazine. I just didn’t know what he was trying to tell me. With unsteady fingers, I opened a message that said “watch me” with a video. In full makeup, and wrapped in the same red robe from the cover, Aliana’s high cheekbones, full lips, and almond-shaped eyes filled the screen. “Happy early Valentine’s Day from the February cover shoot, Georgina,” she said in her Polish accent, waving emphatically. “Sebastian tells me I was his dream girl until you came along and knocked me off the list completely. And, well, he’s going to ask you for a second chance. I think you should give it to him.” She winked. “It’s not every day a woman not only tops the list but totally obliterates it.”

  She flipped the camera and Sebastian’s even more beautiful face appeared. “Hey, buns,” he said, his eyes crinkling in the corners with his smile. “Just wanted to warn you that I’m coming for you, so put down your phone and look up.”

  I frowned, confused when the video ended. I lowered my cell, and in my doorway stood the most handsome, most intriguing, most infuriating man I knew.

  In a peacock-blue pullover that brought out his eyes and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, Sebastian sighed as if relieved. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  I knew the feeling. Just his presence drained tension from my shoulders I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. “What’s going on?” I asked, standing. “Are you really here? In Boston?”

  “All of what you just read is true.” He took a step and warned, “So if you ask me whether I wrote it for any other reason than as a declaration to you, I will come over and kiss you in a way that leaves no question as to my intentions.”

  My chest rose and fell as I tried to think of one reason not to question him if it meant getting that response. Where did I even begin? I picked the easiest of his revelations to tackle first. “You’re leaving your job?”

  “Left. Once it was in print, there was no turning back.”

  “But why?” I asked. “What’ll you do instead?”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for Vance to decide my value. I didn’t want to be there without you anyway. As for what’s next, I have ideas, but I’m a free agent at the moment.”

  He’d gone and quit without a backup plan? It didn’t sound like Sebastian to flip his perfectly curated life on its side, but I couldn’t help but hope that was a good sign. He himself had admitted to feeling complacent. “How does it feel?”

  “Weird. Overwhelming. But I can breathe for the first time in a while.” He glanced around my bare office, just a desk, computer, and some chairs for now. “It wasn’t a shock. Honestly, as soon as you said you were leaving New York, I was already coming up with ideas to make us work so I could eventually follow you—until you said Boston.”

  I realized it was hope that’d eased my body because it left me again. I’d come here knowing he wouldn’t chase me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted to go to him now. I held up the issue. “I’m proud of you. It makes for a good story, but what does it mean? Why are you here?”

  “You know why. You know what I’ve wanted for a while, even though there were times I would’ve jumped off a cliff before admitting it.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “You said it yourself—I can’t do this without you.”

  My palm sweat against the glossy cover. I still wanted this—him. Enough that in darker moments, I’d questioned whether coming to Boston was the right choice. “Can’t do what?” I asked.

  “Any of it. Now that I know what it’s like to be with someone like you, I don’t want anything else. Just you. You make me mad, and for better or worse, I refuse to live without that madness.”

  Madness, I supposed, was him putting my interests before his so I’d enjoy a pretend date. Showing up for me and Bruno at the vet when I’d tried to run scared. Facing his own fears by coming here. I realized my mind had latched onto something other than “someone like you” for the first time in months. In his eyes, I was a prize, not a consolation.

  I inhaled. “You don’t have to live without it.”

  “Good, because I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere. If you need time, I’ll give it to you. But I won’t give you up.”

  “But Sebastian . . .” I glanced at my desk, willing myself to keep a clear mind as my heart called for him. When he and I had last been together, my fear of the past had thrown me into overdrive, thinking I had to come first or not at all. Sebastian and I had to learn the art of compromise—but I no longer had that to give. “Are you saying you want to try this for real? Long-distance? I’m not ready to leave Boston. I just got here.”

  “And? How is it?”

  I hesitated, because I didn’t want to hurt him. Didn’t want to lose him now that I had him back. “I wish I could say I hate it,” I admitted, “but I don’t.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “That so?”

  “It’s something new. And it reminds me of you.” My cheeks warmed. “I won’t uproot Bruno again, and I won’t let Dionne or my team down. This is the job I want to be doing right now.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “How is the brute anyway?”

  “Good.” I smiled a little. “Bull in a china shop as always.”

  “Opal misses him. Turns out, she likes a little bull in her life.”

  “I know the feeling.” I was still wary but unable to keep from giving in to the ease of our interactions or the comfort of having him there.

  “You were right at the vet,” he said.

  I had no doubt that was true, and that Sebastian would eventually realize it—but it didn’t diminish how good it felt to hear it. I tilted my head. “Can you repeat that, please?”

  “You were right that I let fear get in the way,” he said, “right after I’d called you out for the same thing.”

  “I’m not scared anymore, Sebastian.” I inched around the desk, my steps muted by the tufted wool rug beneath my heels. Though eager to go to him, there were still things that needed to be said. “When I met you, I’d been trying to hide or overcome my flaws out of shame. Then you came along and told me I was allowed to have them. That I was allowed to be kind.”

  “Allowed?” he asked. “I love that part of you. More than you know. After so long of not having that, you feel like the lifeline I lost.” Longing showed on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re weak. Don’t tell me your flaws aren’t my blessings.”

  I swallowed through the urge to cry. To run to him. To let myself fall, fina
lly, into him. But the distance between us kept me from opening my heart all the way. “I’m sorry it had to be Boston,” I said quietly. “I wish there was another way.”

  “And I’m sorry that even though I was looking for a girl like you, it took me so long to see you. To understand that I was holding on to a past that would always be a part of me, even after I let it go. This was my home once, Georgina. But now, you, Bruno, and Opal—that’s the home I want, and where that is doesn’t matter.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as hope crept back in. That was a home I’d envisioned many times since he’d left me on the curb at the vet, but never with any hope. Only as something I’d lost and hadn’t known how to get back without sacrificing a part of myself. “You’d come to Boston?”

  He opened his arms. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Standing there is one thing. Can you be happy here? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if it was torture for you day in and day out.”

  “I have a confession.” He dropped his arms at his sides. “This is my third time here in the last month. I’m sorry I didn’t come see you sooner, but I had shit to work through.”

  I clasped my hands over my heart. He had to want to face those demons, and now, he was ready. I silently promised him I’d do whatever possible to be by his side while he did. “You went to the house?” I guessed.

  “I did. First with Justin to see if I could do it. Then with Libby to start on the plans to restore it. We’re going to sell it.” He shifted on his feet, looking like he could use a hug. But more than comfort, he needed to get the words out, so I stayed where I was. “It won’t be easy, but I’m going to work through it by doing as much of the labor myself as I can.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Something about physically working on the house feels like a way of, I don’t know . . . honoring her. My mom.”

  I closed my eyes a moment and pictured Sebastian as a boy in the kitchen, his mom teaching him the best way to scrub grease from the stove. Doing homework at the table. Bickering with his twin sister. And then, as a grown man, tearing down the walls that’d protected—but also limited—him.