The refrigerator was empty. Clad in an oversized t-shirt, the fluorescent white light of the refrigerator painted Julie in a relatively ethereal glow. The bottom half of her body hung outside the door as she leaned further inside. She searched behind plastic containers full of leftovers for something, anything edible. She had been meaning to go grocery shopping, but between the gym, the holiday, her family, and Nico, there was no need or time. There had been plenty of food to go around all week, which seemed to conspire to reshape her curves. Still, she had nothing left in her fridge.
Behind the jar with two rubbery pickles floating in seedy juice, a low-fat organic blueberry yogurt peeked through. She pulled it out and twisted it until the faded blue ink faced the front.
“Damn. Expired,” she muttered to herself.
Given her limited options and the two-week old expiration date, Julie lifted the aluminum top and sniffed. It didn’t smell too bad and she was starving, so she dipped the tip of her tongue inside the plastic cup and tasted it.
Almost instantly, she regretted her ill-advised decision. Rancid wasn’t even the word. Grossed out, she tossed the cup in the trash and ran to the sink where she began spitting.
“You going to be all right in there?” a groggy male voice asked, startling Julie.
She let out a scream worthy of a good horror movie and clapped her hand over her mouth when she saw Nico sitting up on the couch.
“Nico?”
“Yes?” he mocked her disembodied voice. “Who did you think it was?”
His normally sleek tamed curls, were all over the place and he was still wearing the khakis with the blue gingham button-down, although his sleeves were rolled midway up his arms and he’d taken off his shoes. And now, his upturned brows pointed at Julie with sincere disbelief.
Whether she meant to infuse so much shock in her words, or not, they came out that way. “You stayed?” she said, as if she couldn’t fathom the possibility.
The fact she couldn’t wrap her mind around the notion that a man had hung around to check on her wellbeing was telling in two major ways. For one, it said a lot about the guys she had dated before Nico, dressing them in a less-than-favorable light. And two, it highlighted a distinction between Julie and Nico in a bold way. Where he went through life mostly unfazed by the curveballs life threw at him, just about everything shocked the hell out of her.
True to form, he had shaken up her life and seemed content to let things fall where they may.
He stared blankly. “Where else would I go? You needed me,” he stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the only probable answer. Leaning back on a stack of throw pillows on the couch, he stifled a yawn and let his sleepy eyes glaze over.
Dumbfounded and slack-mouthed, a sputtering laugh escaped her lips. There were no words for the audacity of this man. It unnerved her that he could take anything that she freaked out about and belittle it—dumb it down to a grain of sand. Even more, she hated that she kind of loved that about him, his calming effect on her.
“By the way, Miss Year-Old Yogurt, there’s food for you in the microwave.” Nico turned on his side and pulled the sky blue chenille blanket that hung on the back of the sofa over his shoulders. And just to rub it in that he had rescued her once more and she’d shown her gratitude by banishing him to the couch, he shivered aloud and let his teeth chatter as he let out an exaggerated, “Brrrrrr.”
Julie gagged aloud. “I hope you know I had furry mold on my tongue,” she laughed. “And it wasn’t a year. It said May fifteenth. That’s two weeks.”
“May fifteenth two thousand seventeen.”
Again, she shuddered, thinking year-old yogurt had been in her mouth. “Ew. That’s so disgusting,” she reiterated as his whole body rumbled with laughter beneath the blanket. “Okay, it’s all funny now, but don’t be mad if I throw up all over you.”
“Been there, done that,” he retorted.
Touché.
“And keep it down, will you? I’m trying to catch a few winks over here,” he said.
In the microwave, she found a full plate with rice and green beans and a grilled chicken breast. As she held the plate in her hand and let the door close, she checked the time on the panel. Ten twenty-three p.m. She’d been out for hours and in that time, he had cooked for her. And not some heat-it-up-in-the-microwave-for-three-and-a-half-minutes dish, either. Nico had boiled water and marinated and sautéed for her. What was he doing, going for best boyfriend of the year? Was he even really her boyfriend, or had he just said that to mark his territory in front of her ex?
While she contemplated the answers to her questions, she ate in silence, watching him as he feigned sleep. With each bite, she thought about balking at the carbs and salt, but the flavor had silenced her. And in between bites and audible moans of hunger satiation, her mind drifted back to the inevitable and unanswered prayers.
On her knees, she had begged for Patrick to come to some grand epiphany and realize the error of his decision. But it made sense now. There was a reason her prayers had remained unanswered. There was someone else out there who cooked and cared and saw all of Julie’s flaws and still seemed grateful to have met her. His world was better with her in it.
Julie had depended on her dad and felt lost when he died. She’d tried to depend on her mother, but she wasn’t exactly a role model for standing on your own two feet. She’d even depended on Patrick, and he was sick and tired of her. All this time, she’d been doing her damnedest not to have to depend on anyone else, but it wasn’t forced with Nico. It felt nice and natural to be there for him and let him be there for her in return.
A little while later, Julie hung onto that realization as she cleaned her plate over the trashcan, foregoing the garbage disposal for fear of waking Nico, who now seemed genuinely asleep. As she rinsed the plate and placed it in the left sink basin, she kept a watchful eye on him. Did she have to hurt him just because she’d made a rash decision? Long-distance relationships had worked for some people. She didn’t know any of them, but they could be the first. They’d already been through worse things than most new relationships. Hell, when a man tells you that he’s falling for you, you don’t take that so lightly, as if it meant nothing.
He’d come to mean more to her than any of the men she’d known before him.
Slowly, she made her way over to the couch, grabbed the remote off of the table, and sat near his feet. “Are you awake?” she said quietly.
“Hmmm huh,” he mumbled with his eyes still closed. “How’re you feeling?”
By his question, she knew that he meant her hunger, but all she could think about was her heart. “I really need to talk to you.” Her voice was low and strangled.
Nico shifted onto to his back and cracked his eyes toward her. The room was dark except for the strains of light through the sheer curtains and the glare of the muted television. “I’m listening,” he said, clearer, expectant.
“I don’t really know how to say this.” Julie pulled a pillow to her chest and wrapped her arms around it to occupy her hands. “I don’t know what to do about you? I heard what you said in the car the other night, and to be honest, it kind of scared me.”
As if figuring where the conversation was headed, based on her grave tone, Nico sat up and scooted next to her, so that their shoulders were touching. He could’ve opted out or asked questions, but he remained silent, giving her the floor.
“One second, I want to yell at you and give you a piece of my mind. And the next, I can’t imagine…what I would do without you.” Surprise laced her tone now and she turned to him. She’d planned to be honest and upfront with Nico, but evenly, carefully, a little at a time.
At the blank expression on his face, dread crawled up her throat and lingered there. She’d said too much; the words, now that they were out, seemed irrevocable.
Abruptly, she closed her mouth and inhaled. As she lifted her chin to him with feigned confidence in her decision, he met her eyes in the dark. His were pitch black and liquid, but in them she saw something she couldn’t quite name. She wasn’t sure whether it was hope and reassurance, or the kind of fear that gave most men pause as they figured the fastest way out with the least collateral damage.
Calm and cool as ever, Nico blinked a few times.
She wished he would just blurt it out, whatever he was thinking—instead of sitting there while he watched her internal tantrum unfold. She’d kick and scream, if that would get a real reaction out of him, but he had mastered the art of torture by silent treatment.
“You said, you don’t know what to do about me?” he asked finally, looking down at his hands. “Well, what are your options?”
Even without light, Julie heard the questions in his voice. Something about his collected response set the rage in Julie’s blood ablaze. “That’s all you have to say? You and your cryptic responses. I’m pouring my fucking heart out to you, and you’re talking about options. What the heck are you even talking about?”
Her voice shook as annoyance lifted her volume to near-yelling. “This. This is why I know it’s not going to work between us.” Julie lashed out at him and slipped her feet beneath her, sitting up on her haunches in the corner of the couch. She faced Nico, tight-eyed, bubbling with irritation.
Even more infuriating than yelling back at her, he tilted his head up with a smug grin stretched across his reddened face. “You about done?” he asked, minutely shaking his head.
Something in his question gave her pause. Julie caught herself, vaguely reminded of the day that she had ignored and dismissed Patrick at the bank. His lost look of disbelief and shock that she hadn’t been the hysterical mess with him the way she used to. She hadn’t reacted. Out of character, really. The way his eyes bulged out, she knew no one had ever not talked to Patrick that way. That, coupled with her request to never see him again? It was a breakthrough. By saying very little, she’d spoken her mind and stood her ground. Everything about that quiet protest was right, felt right, which was why she knew it was warranted.
But this? Nico hadn’t done anything that warranted her shameless attempt to find something to balance out the scales. She’d stooped low, all so she’d feel better at ending things between them. Nothing about it felt right.
Julie’s cheeks burned as she fell back on the arm of the couch and pulled her arms and legs toward her core. She let her head fall on her knees and let the brimming tears trail down toward her nose.
“Jules?” Nico whispered and laid his head on her shoulder, nudging her to come out. He stretched his legs the length of the couch. “What’s going on?”
When she lifted her head slightly, their eyes met.
Nico searched her eyes, likely finding the endless pools of wariness she could feel draining from her. “What are you trying to tell me?” he asked, his words hurried and drenched in urgency. “Why are you torturing yourself like this? Please stop fighting it.”
Before she could let her mind take hold, she took a deep cleansing breath, leaned in, and caught his lips with hers. She brushed them softly together, tasting him, memorizing the lingering taste of sweetness and the faint scent of soap and minty aftershave on his cheek. Light moans seeped from her mouth as the need to be with him clawed at her. She squeezed her eyes tight.
Why was she punishing herself like this?
Julie drew in closer to Nico and rubbed her hands over the stubbly squared edges of his jaw. She needed to feel that this was happening, simultaneously pulling him toward her as she resisted the urge to push him away. She peppered his lips with soft, tentative kisses, then urgent, hungry ones.
Her mind raced with imaginings of what was happening. How he would make love to her. Whether he would be gentle or hurried with anticipation. If they would both enjoy it, or it would be one-sided pleasure. She prayed she wouldn’t have to fake it for his ego’s sake, and by some strange bout of grace and mercy, she might feel something. Something real. Real experience-shared pleasure.
What happened next she knew would be a line in the sand—a point of no return. A fork in the road with two very distinct paths that they would never cross again. A choice.
And though it may or may not have been that simple, in her mind’s eye, she had to choose: career or love.
Somehow other people made it appear to be so easy to have everything. The man, the career, the family and the house. And while she knew love and a livelihood weren’t mutually exclusive, the fog was too thick to see how they might intertwine. She’d have to figure it all out once she could think clearly. But for now, she leaned into the kiss. The kind of kiss that lasts for hours.
Julie nodded as if giving herself permission to relish in the moment. Her heart pounded and ached at once.
Gently, Nico circled his arm over her legs and pulled her body flat beneath him. As he centered himself on top of her, he kissed her deeper still—the slightest tremble pulsing over his skin. When he seemed sure that her lips had received enough attention, he trailed his magic tongue down the curve of her neck, while he worked her T-shirt up. As he slipped it over her head, he let it drop to the floor.
At the sight of her bare breast and soft curves in only her panties, Nico exhaled and bit his bottom lip. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
On limited air supply and with hazy brain function, Julie writhed beneath him. “I just want to keep on torturing myself.”
Without argument, Nico scooted down her body and took her nipple whole in his mouth. He suckled gently, circling the tip with his tongue before teasing it with his teeth.
She parted her legs and squeezed his waist between her thighs. “Please,” she moaned. She was begging him to take all of her pain away.
As Julie clung to Nico, her fingernails digging into his back, she couldn’t bring herself to let him go. It was the kind of attachment that held steadfast as the fear of losing him coursed through her, masking wariness with heated passion. The kind that if she let him go, she might never heal. She was about to let go of a part of herself, her soul.
This dread filled her while they searched each other’s bodies on the couch and rolled to the floor before she finally led him to her bed. It didn’t end as she pushed and pulled him, wrestling with the underlying meaning of what tonight meant. It didn’t end as they reached their peaks together, worn and breathless. It didn’t even end when he lingered inside of her, showing her exactly how real this thing was between them.
Julie awakened the next morning to the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. Still tangled in Nico’s embrace, she stretched her arm over the side of the bed until the tips of her fingers were in reach. Slowly she dragged it closer, careful not to rouse him in doing so.
Before she unlocked the screen, she dimmed the brightness and swiped to open up a message from Liz.
Liz: Earth to Jules?
It had been something close to a week since she’d checked in with Liz, which was basically unheard of for them. They never went a day, let alone days plural, without speaking, which was a dead indicator that something drastic had happened.
Aside from her own shenanigans with Nico, she had suspected Liz needed some time to wade through the muddied relationship waters with Derrick. And as much as she really wanted to talk to her and advise her, Liz and Derrick had to work things out for themselves. So, she’d given them the obligatory amount of time that friends should give, and now, she was thankful to hear from her.
Julie: Hey
Liz: Um, so you’re alive, then?
Julie: Don’t even try it. Been waiting on you and your drama all this time. Sounds like someone got some the eggplant. Glad you and Derrick are back together. So…do I need to pick out a bridesmaid gown?
Liz: Girl?!?!?! We have basically been locked up in the room for like a week. No time soon on the nups, I finally got it through his thick skull that I need some time. Plus, you’re going to be the maid of honor, obvi! Or, should I say, maiden of honor?!?! You still in drought, or did you finally go ahead and get busy with Nico and now I need to pick out some hideous taffeta eyesore for a winter wonderland wedding?
Julie: Uh, no. As far as smashing, I wouldn’t exactly say dash, but…something did happen…
Liz: Yaaassssss! Finally. It’s about time. If you’re not going to marry him, then he’s a rebound and now that you’ve gotten it in with a good rebound, you can get out of the funk you’ve been in. Maybe I’ll get my friend back.
A text with clapping hands and halos came through on Julie’s phone. Liz was celebrating. Meanwhile, Julie still hadn’t conjured up the nerve to tell Nico about the job offer. Maybe Liz would know what to do.
Julie peeked over her shoulder at an adorable sleeping Nico and replied to Liz.
Julie: I’m ignoring you. BTW I’m not going to make it to the gym, but can you meet me around 5:30? I’m going to need a shoulder. And a glass of something. Just sayin’
Liz: You good, Jules?
Julie: I am for now…
Liz: ???
Julie stole a glance at Liz’s text and stuffed the phone under the pillow as Nico shifted and tightened his arm around her waist.
“Mmmm. Good morning,” he mumbled against her hair, pressing his morning wood hard into her backside. His husky hoarse voice stirred her insides with memories of the previous night.
“Morning,” she said. Fresh worry and yearning careened through her. Just hours ago, the two of them had been wrapped in a mess of roaming limbs, shallow breaths, and insatiable hunger for one another. And now Julie’s chest tightened for a different reason, the same reason that had given her pause since their night of fireworks beneath the stars at the cemetery.
They’d been moving too quickly for any of it to seem real or right. And as if affirming that belief and etching it in stone, Julie had told Beckstand that she wanted the job in Portland, only making things harder still.
Now, she’d taken difficult and made it impossible.
She had to do it before she could talk herself down or tell herself that he probably wasn’t worth her worries. She could tell herself that Nico Farfalla was nice enough, but not for her. Before she’d spent the night making love in his able arms with those warm brown eyes pouring into her, she could lie to herself. But now, the lies would never outweigh the truth—she was falling hard and fast for him.
In her heart, she wanted to depend on him.
She played worse-case scenarios in her mind, rightfully blaming herself for the position in which she now stood knee-deep. Time seemed to slow down as she replayed the events that had put her there, and scrounged through quick fixes to avoid hurting either of them.
Nico raised himself up onto his elbow and pulled Julie’s shoulder, so that she laid flat on her back.
Under the weight of his stare, she squeezed her eyes shut, praying that if she closed them tight enough, maybe she could remain calm for as long as it would take to face her own demons.
“Uh, you going to open your eyes, or do I have to use some of my methods from last night to get you to open up?” Nico teased, leaning down to kiss the curves of her neck.
Her heart beat erratically as she stilled her body against his wet hot lips. “Nico?” she breathed his name.
“Yeah?”
“I—”
Before she could unburden herself, he interrupted her and spoke the words she couldn’t unhear. “I love you.”
Julie sucked in a chest full of air as her heart stalled. Words clogged in her throat. She gave him an unblinking, weighted stare. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t.”
Every line in his face hardened. “Don’t what? Don’t tell you that I love you? It’s too late,” Nico snapped. He sat up, all traces of his gentle, loving demeanor gone now. “I know you like to try to control everything and everyone. You want to be everything everyone else wants you to be. Well, this isn’t yours to control, Jules. You can’t control my feelings.”
At the change in Nico’s tone, Julie immediately regretted her words. She wished she could take them back, stop them from piercing his heart and spreading small fissures. Underneath his rough, gravelly voice, his words were wobbly and brittle, as if they were a dam holding back the tears on the edge.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered shamefully.
He stiffened at the remorse in her tone and cleared his throat to begin again. “I know how hard-headed you are, so I should’ve guessed that you’d make me spell it out for you.” A playful smile crossed his face. Squaring his body to Julie, he said, “I love you, Julie. I want to be with you. Just you. Just the way you are. And I don’t need you to change for me. If you want do some crazy new hairstyle or hire a trainer to get healthier, fine. But, it will be because that’s what you want. I’m happy just being with you.”
The way he looked at her, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking, only that his message was instructional and urgent. He searched her eyes for understanding, waiting for a response from her. Some sign of comprehension.
When she said nothing, he asked a simple question. “All I need to know is do you love me too?” He paused. “Or, do you think you could grow to love me too?”
This was what she didn’t want—the sad eyes lined with the questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. He wanted something from her she didn’t trust herself to give. Somewhere in her tight stomach and her aching heart, she knew the answer. It had been growing stronger every day, every minute she’d spent with Nico. But what good would it do now to acknowledge it?
“I’m leaving,” she said.
Vacant eyes met hers for a heartbeat before he lowered his chin to his chest.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Nico. I’m leaving. I had an interview yesterday and there’s a bank manager position in Portland and I’m going to take it. So, you see? You can’t love me…and I can’t love you back.”