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Natalie’s throat worked for a series of heavy moments, the room lightening and darkening with a passing cloud. “Learn to let go, Julian. Learn.”
He scoffed, making his throat burn worse. “You say that like it’s easy.”
“It’s not. I know, because I’ve done it in reverse.”
That gave Julian pause, drawing him out of his own misery. In reverse? Natalie had gone from free spirit to . . . dimmed down? Fine, she’d quit her antics, buckled down, and gone to a prestigious college, worked her way up to partner at a major investment firm. But she wasn’t anything like him. Was she? She was full of humor and spontaneity and life.
Unless there was a lot more happening under the surface. A lot he couldn’t see.
She diverted her gaze before he could search for it.
“Come with us Tuesday night, Julian. Don’t live with regrets.”
Julian stared at the empty archway long after Natalie had vacated it, trying to remember how he’d gotten to this point, this edge of the cliff where leaping was necessary. He hadn’t asked for this. Never wanted it. But now?
I’m too rigid for that. For her.
Learn to let go.
That advice had come across as flippant at first. It made sense to him, though. If he knew how to do anything, it was learn. Expand his way of thinking. He’d just never done so in the name of romance. With the intent of . . . what? Was he going after Hallie now? Pursuing her?
The very idea was absurd. Wasn’t it?
They lived an hour and a half away from each other, leading extremely different lives. The fact that they were polar opposites hadn’t changed one iota. Hallie still brought disorder with her wherever she went. And he . . . would dull all of that. He’d squash it. When they first met, he thought she needed to change. Learn to be punctual. More organized. He’d even been so arrogant as to critique her as a gardener and decide she could do with some symmetry training. Now the idea that she would change, even in the slightest, on his account made Julian feel seasick.
Then learn.
It would have to be him that changed.
Pursuing Hallie meant easing his grip on time management. It meant learning to exist without the constraints of minutes and hours. Living with paw prints on his pants and understanding that she would do inconceivable things like volunteer to babysit thirty children and stuff them with donuts. Or steal cheese in broad daylight.
Why was he smiling, dammit?
He was. He could see his reflection in the microwave.
I propose that we both do something that scares us this week.
Was it in bad taste to take the advice from his secret admirer and use it to suit his purposes with Hallie? Probably. But, Jesus, now that he’d given himself permission to go get her, a rush of anticipation started in the crown of his head, blasting down to his feet so swiftly, he had to lean against the wall.
Okay, then.
My goal is to date her. My goal is to be her boyfriend.
He could barely hear his own thoughts over the ruckus his heart was making.
And yes, he was going to try his damndest to stop stuffing everything in life into the parameters of a plan and a schedule. But not when it came to this. To her. He needed a plan for winning her, because something deep in the recesses of his chest told him this was too important to be left up to chance.
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday night Hallie stood in front of her full-length mirror in two different shoes, trying to decide which one looked better. She snapped a quick picture with her phone and fired it off to Lavinia, who promptly responded with: Wear the heels. But if you replace me as your best friend tonight, be warned that I will stab you with one.
Never, Hallie texted back, snorting.
She kicked aside some of the clothes and beauty products on her floor and found the lint roller, dragging the stickiness down her snug black dress to rid it of three varieties of dog hair. She stepped over the pile of rejected shoes and entered her en suite bathroom, leaving the lint roller in a place she probably wouldn’t find it next time and—
Hallie straightened, her fingers pausing in the act of rooting through lipsticks to find the right shade of golden peach. Watching her actions as if they were being performed by someone else, she removed the sticky strip of dog hair from the roller, threw it in the trash, and replaced the essential tool for dog owners in the drawer, where she used to keep it.
She stepped back from the mirror and looked around, wincing at the clutter.
Now that she’d taken a big step in her professional life, tomorrow she needed to take a leap in her personal one—and rein in this house jungle. Or at least get a running start.
