can’t make promises I won’t keep, Noel. But I’m not heartless. I feel like I am, but I don’t want to hurt him. That’s why I can’t allow anything to happen between us. There are things about me that aren’t right for him. I’m not what he deserves.”
Noel took a deep breath. “I think you’re wrong. I think he does deserve you.”
Stevie stared at the kitchen bench with the loaf of bread in one hand and a carton of orange juice in the other. Then she grimaced at the counter. Last week she had caught Noel and Clara on it. And it had been very clear what the newlyweds had planned to do on it. Stevie’s eyes ran the entire length of the marble. She decided that the possibility that her best friend and her husband had had sex on the surface of the bench was high. Those two were like rabbits.
A knock on the front door had her glancing up at it. It had been ten minutes since Noel and Clara had left for lunch. No one knew that she had recently moved, so the chance that it was for her was slim. So she ignored the visitor. If it were one of those knockers who gave out religious pamphlets, she’d move. Sure, she was all for religion, but Stevie hated anyone to force it on her. But that was her opinion. The knocks became heavy bangs and Stevie slammed the bread and juice on the counter. Then she huffed and stalked towards the door. Rage boiled as the person behind the door continued to slam a baby whale into the door—exaggeration, she knew, but she could hear the vibration with each pound against the wood.
When she reached the door, she palmed the handle before she yanked it open, screaming, “Look—”
She stilled.
“’Bout time, Blondie.” Julian smirked as his eyes travelled down her body. “Nice pjs.”
Stevie clenched her eyelids shut and let her shoulders sag.
Un-freaking-believable.
After a quick inhale, Stevie opened her eyes to see his smirk still on his lips. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her taking in his appearance. She didn’t have to look to know that he wore his suit well.
“They’re grapes,” she pointed out. It was her favourite pair. It combined her two favourite things: fruit puns and sleepwear. She had to buy it the moment she read, ‘I’m grape-ful for sleep!’ and saw the cute grapes with smiles on their faces.
“They’re cute. Can I come in?” he asked with a glimmer in his light blue eyes.
Such a bastard.
“Ummm, no. You can take your suit-clad ass out of this apartment building.”
Julian pouted. “Please? I’d be very grape-ful, Stephanie. I think we’d make a grape pair.”
Her nostrils flared as she squinted at him. “I. Hate. You,” she growled.
“Nah, you like me just fine, Blondie. You think I’m grape company.” Julian grinned before he pushed past her and entered the apartment.
She quickly spun on the balls of her feet to see him taking off his shoes and discarding them by the hallway table. Then Julian returned to her and placed the bag she had only just noticed in her hands.
“What is this?” Stevie inspected the shopping bag and noticed an apple.
“Did you fake a sickie to avoid seeing me?” he asked. The hurt in his voice was one she couldn’t ignore.
Stevie stared at the way sadness slowly consumed his face. His eye colour dulled and his lips made a frown.
“Yes,” she replied honestly. Because that was as honest as she could be without telling him the real reason why she was hiding from him.
“Oh,” he uttered before his hands dug into his pockets.
Her eyes fell from his face to the bag. “I’m quitting my internship. I can’t be around you.”
It’s better this way.
“Don’t do that. You’re limiting your chances of finding a job after you finish your degree. I’ll end my consultation services,” Julian announced.
“Don’t do that,” she said as she noticed something on the apple.
“I’d do anything for you.”
She quickly glanced up to see a small smile on his face. It would be easy for her to say yes. To tell him to do it. But it was selfish and she couldn’t have him risk his career because she couldn’t cope with seeing him. She couldn’t help but think back to when they were in Thailand. When they were in the hammock and he didn’t want what they had to end. But it had. She had made sure of it.
“I’d believe in anything for you.”
Four years