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The next day, he’s a minute late, and I find myself lingering on the steps. Go. Don’t wait for him, you fool. But I breathe a sigh of relief when he shows up.
He leaps out of the car, his face relaxing when he sees me. “Sorry. I had to stop at Judy’s apartment.”
“Is she okay?”
“Oh yes. Just had a fall last night and my mom wanted me to check on her. She’s alone. It’s hard getting older alone.” He shakes his head, looking serious and sad. My stomach dips. Alone. Like me and Jonah.
“Are you ever going to stop pursuing me? Like you said, being alone is hard. Don’t you want to find someone to make you happy?”
My heart rolls itself up into a ball at the thought of him with someone else.
“You’re the only person who has ever made me happy.” His jaw works. “Do you want me to find someone else?”
No. No, I don’t. I want him for myself. It’s so fucked.
Instead of responding, I say, “I’m starting at the coffee shop on the corner tomorrow. So I won’t be here in the mornings anymore.”
I don’t wait for his response before I go back inside and shut the door. I’m not telling him to meet me there. I’m not. But a tiny part of me knows I’ll be disappointed if he isn’t there.
59
Jonah
I can hear the baristas whispering about me. It’s Callie’s second day at the coffee shop, and I’m at the same table I chose yesterday. I chased some sucker with a laptop away. It’s perfectly positioned so I can watch Callie while she works. She’s clearly done this before because she works the coffee machine with ease and smiles at customers while she rings orders. Every man who smiles at her makes my fists clench.
Do you want me to find someone else? She hadn’t answered, but the way her eyes darkened makes me think she would be equally upset if I found someone else. There will never be anyone else. Life is dull and gray without Callie. It’s her or no one.
I go back to my laptop, idly checking my email. I’ve had George forwarding me key emails without telling Miles. It’s going to end at some point, because George is more loyal to Miles than they are to me. Miles is going to freak out when he finds out. At least that day will be interesting.
But damn, my life is fucked. No work, no Callie, nothing. All I do is work out and fantasize about getting her back.
A coffee thumps down on my table. “Is that you leaving hundreds in the tip jar?”
I look up slowly, knowing who I’ll find. Callie’s annoyed, and fuck, I love to see that fire in her eyes. Her hands are on her hips, and her hair is all wisps and curls in her messy bun. For just a minute, I want to pretend we’re back to our old selves. Me making fun of her, her pretending to hate it.
“No, must be some other billionaire,” I drawl.
She scowls. “You’re scaring the patrons.”
I look around and raise a brow. “Am I?”
Her scowl deepens. “Yes. It’s your huge black eye.”
“Concerned for me, Thompson?”
Her face flushes, her mouth parts. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? Afraid you’ll like it too much?”
She opens her mouth to speak and then clamps it shut.
I pull out my wallet and lazily count hundreds into a small pile. “Is this enough to compensate for the table?”
Her eyes flick to the stack. “I don’t need your money, Jonah.”
“I want you to have it,” I say quietly. “Anything you want is yours. Name it.”
Her eyes light. She thinks she’s got me, I can tell. I nearly smile. An annoyed Callie is better than a sad Callie. “I want you to show me that you value journalism. And not with money.”
