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“Stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment . . . If you love her, tell her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.”
Did destiny plant him in my life at just the right moment, too? And I’d still missed the point? But not the pun about destiny and the plant. Seriously, Christiansen, your humor is so whack sometimes.
I need to be with Juni. I need her to know that I’m not leaving her—abandoning her.
It’s time to start writing a story worth telling. Our story.
“What time is the funeral?”
Checking his watch, he replies, “Starts in fifteen minutes.”
I look at the door as if that can help me. “Where is it?”
“If you’d like to attend, here’s a flyer Juni put together—” I snatch it from his hands.
“Thanks, Pete.”
“Give my condolences.”
I push through the door and run to the curb to flag down a taxi. As soon as one pulls over, I hop in the back, and say, “To this address. Hurry.”
I’m a fucking asshole for not checking in on Juni this past week. I thought I read the sign for time correctly, but maybe following destiny is harder than I thought. Or maybe she’s in a bad mood because we hit every red light in the city and an accident involving a honey truck that tipped over.
The cabbie looks at me in the rearview mirror, and asks, “You from around here?”
“No.”
He hands the flyer back and rests his elbow over the chair when he looks back. “This funeral home is two blocks north of here and three blocks straight down. You’ll get there faster if you walk it than sitting here letting the meter run. This honey truck isn’t going anywhere soon. And the bees are coming.”
I can walk. Fuck, I’ll run it. If that means getting to Juni, being there for her, I’ll do it. He turns on the windshield wipers when I take the flyer back and toss a bill to cover the fare. “Keep it.”
Swatting a few bees out of the way, I start running, now wondering if bees are a sign of something. All this New Age destiny stuff is fucking with my head.
I’m a runner, dammit. I’m not usually running in jeans, fitted jeans at that. Not only is the denim rubbing me wrong in my crotch but it’s also fucking hot today. I reach the funeral home, stopping on the steps out front to catch my breath. Wiping the sweat with the hem of my shirt, I try to clean up out of respect. There was no time to change clothes, so a white T-shirt and sneakers it is.
I march up the steps and open the doors. Gil turns to offer a program, but when he sees me, he says, “Andrew, you’re back in town?”
Keeping my voice low like his, I reply, “Just got in and heard the news from Pete. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“He’s been a resident in the building since before I started working there. Nice man.”
“How’s Juni doing?”
He lifts up to see if he can spot her. Maybe that’s all the answer I need—to see her again. “She’s sitting alone in the first row if you’d like to see her.”
“Thanks.” As much as I would like to get advice on a few things, now is not the time. I can’t think about me, or us, when I know she’s devastated.
I don’t get far before he catches me. “You know, Andrew, she hasn’t opened up about what’s going on or what happened, which is unlike her. But you know what that tells me?”
“What?”
“She cares about you. A lot.”
“I care about her more than a lot.”
He grins, and maybe that’s allowed at the funeral for a man who lived a long and good life. I’m sure Mr. Clark is already in heaven causing a scene and kissing his wife.
Gil whispers as the service begins. “Commitment has always been a thing since her parents died. They were too good at what they did, loved it, but obsessed. Even they couldn’t control their fate. But Juni somehow got it twisted in her head that if she took herself out of the running, she’d never be hurt again. I’m not telling you what to do, but when pushed, she runs the other way. So, if you’re thinking about trying to get back into her life, you get one shot. Make it count.”
I shake his hand. “Thanks, Gil.”
He tugs me in and whispers, “Hurt her again, and you’d better stay in California.”
Leaning back slowly, I see the warning in his eyes to back his words. I nod, surprised to see this side of him. I’m equally happy Juni has him. “I won’t.”
I don’t join Juni on the front row, deciding at the last minute it was best to let her have this time to grieve. I also don’t want to disrespect Mr. Clark’s family and friends. The one time I’m not Mr. Suit . . .
