Page 97 of The One I Want


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* * *

Another chance to have this conversation in new light didn’t come. I spent most of my day hanging out in her hallway. It wasn’t until night came on Saturday that I found her on the rooftop with Rascal. I started for them but stopped when I heard her crying.

I don’t want to sneak up on her or Rascal, but I’m not sure how to approach them. I stop overthinking because I’ve lost twenty-four hours because of that and start walking. “Juni?”

She looks over at me and says, “Unless you’ve changed your mind, Drew, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“You say that like I have a choice.”

Swiping at her cheeks, she raises her chin. “We all have choices, and it sounds like you’ve made up your mind.”

“You don’t understand the position I’ve been put in. I’ve worked my whole life for—”

“I know. You’ve told me. The thing is, I thought you’d changed.”

“Change what? My career? How I make money to survive? What exactly was I supposed to change? I like my job. I know that sounds foreign to your ears, but just because someone loves what they do for a living doesn’t mean they’re lost to the dark side.”

It was then, at that moment of anger, that I realized I’d crossed a line with her.

There wasn’t fire in her eyes or a swift tongue to smart back. Her body language wasn’t resolute, but the opposite. That was the exact moment I lost her, and I knew it.

Sorry wasn’t going to solve this.

Begging wouldn’t keep her here or get her to Seattle.

The choice had been laid before me without her having to say a word.

I was stuck between my job and family on one side, and Juni and New York on the other. Yet I feel utterly and bitterly alone.

* * *

Just after six thirty Sunday morning, I wheel my suitcase through the lobby. Gil smiles at first, and then I see his true allegiance. I can respect him for that. Juni’s like a daughter to him, and I understand all about family loyalty. After all, isn’t that why I’m about to walk out this door? Although, this is more than just family loyalty. Hundreds of jobs are at risk if I don’t fix this insane issue.

I go to the counter where he remains sitting. I guess that’s his way of taking a stand against me. Setting the envelope down on the counter, I say, “I was planning to give these to you at next weekend’s barbecue for your birthday.”

“You should keep your gifts, Mr. Christiansen.”

Christiansen. That tide turned. “I still want you to have it.”

He takes the envelope and peeks inside. “I can’t take this. It’s an invitation to watch the game from the owner’s suite.”

“It’s yours for you and a guest to enjoy the first home game of the season.”

Standing, he stares at the tickets in his hand and then looks at me in amazement. “How did you score this?”

“I know a few guys, pulled a few strings. Take Nancy or Izzy—”

“I’ll take Juni.” Hearing her name has my heart ping in my chest, and then it tightens.

I keep my composure, like I always do. “Or Juni. Prepare her. They only set out a flower arrangement on the buffet. There won’t be any other plants in the area.”

He chuckles lightly. “I’ll let her know before we go.” Pocketing the envelope, he asks, “You’re really leaving?”

I take a breath that leans on the shakier side. It’s odd because I’m usually much steadier regarding my decisions. “It was only supposed to be temporary.”

“One week can turn into more so easily. When I started working here twenty-seven years ago, I was filling in for a guy named Chuck. I covered his shift, and we never heard from him again. Sometimes, I still wonder what happened to Chuck.”

Now he has me wondering about Chuck as well. And Juni, and if she’ll ever forgive me. “I’m not selling the apartment just yet.” When I walk to the door, it’s still closed. I look back at Gil who remains at the desk, and shrugs.

“Sorry, Mr. Christiansen.”

“I can respect that.” I push through the door, and add, “Take care, Gil.”

I was hoping the car would be here, or what’s the point in scheduling a time? A familiar yap has my heart beating faster. I turn toward the sound, hoping to find Juni there. I don’t.

Rascal tugs at the leash until it’s ripped from Mr. Clark’s hand. I kneel to catch the wild papillon. “What are you doing, boy? You know better than to make a run for it, you little troublemaker.”

“Hold on to that rascal for me.”

“He’s safe. No worries,” I reply.

Mr. Clark finally arrives just under the awning. “I used to be faster, believe it or not.”

Chuckling, I say, “I believe it.” It’s funny how I’ve never seen him walking the dog, only Juni until now.

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