I don’t have the heart to tell him she and I haven’t spoken in a few days. I don’t want him to think she is like his mother, and I don’t want him to be mad at me for my stupidity. “When she’s not working, you’re in school.”
“Yeah, that sucks. Career day is coming up. Maybe I can invite her.”
“What about me?” I ask.
Reggie looks at me and says, “Let’s be real, Dad. The likelihood of going to the NFL is slim. Miss Autumn’s job is more realistic.”
“When did you become so smart?”
He shrugs. “I have a pretty great Dad to teach me things.”
I pull him forward again and kiss him. “Thanks, bud. And thanks for the milkshakes. We definitely needed those tonight.”
Reggie tells me he’s going to read for a little bit before he goes to bed. I don’t know how long I sit on the edge of his bed, but his asking about Autumn really put her at the forefront of my mind.
“I’m going to go down to Autumn’s apartment and leave her a note. I won’t be gone for more than ten minutes. Think you can take care of things?” He doesn’t have to do anything but be present if Roxy were to wake up. We have a state-of-the-art alarm system in place.
“Are you inviting her over?” he asks. His question makes me wonder if he thinks she’ll spend the night or if he’s trying to parent me and is subtly telling me it’s too late.
“I am, but only for a bit. I don’t want to leave you and your sister alone, so it’s easier for her to come over when she gets off work.”
“Okay. Let me know when you’re back.” And just like that, my son has become my parent for a few minutes while I run a quick errand. I have no idea if Autumn will come over when she gets home, but I’m hoping. I really want to talk to her face-to-face, and I want to do it tonight.
Twenty-Nine
Autumn
I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically, by the time I reach my door. Since I went off the air and the entire drive back to my place, I ignored my phone. Julius texted, and at last count, I think there were five or maybe six notifications from him. Perhaps I’m being childish by not looking at them to see what he has to say, but my feelings are hurt, and I need a few more minutes and the comfort of my home before I read what he has to say. Deep down, I know there’s an apology followed by the classic “we’re better off as friends” line. The thing is, I knew better than to get involved. His demeanor when we first met should’ve been a clear sign that we aren’t right for each other.
But he’s so damn hot.
“Looks aren’t everything,” I mutter to myself as I walk toward my door. With my key poised, I pause and look at the folded piece of paper taped to my door. I don’t know why, but I look up and down the hall, almost as if I’m going to catch the culprit who dared to leave whatever this is for me.
My heart races, and I have a slight issue swallowing. What if I have a stalker? I’ve seen some of the comments left on ChatGram. They’re lewd and somewhat troubling. I’ve heard stories of stalkers finding out where people live and how presents start showing up at your place. Personal safety is one of the first things they teach us—never give out personal information. But with the internet the way it is, you can find just about anyone these days. This stupid piece of paper, which could be harmless, makes me wish I had a fake name, something I chose not to do because I like the puns that came along with Autumn being a weather anchor.
“Pull up your big girl panties, Autumn.”
Except my pep talk does nothing for the lack of courage I feel right now. If this note is threatening, there are video cameras in the halls and by every entrance. For the most part, my building is very secure, and I can’t imagine someone would risk coming in here to leave me a stupid note.
Slowly, as if the paper is going to bite me, I lift the edge and bend to read the words. “Can you . . .” is all I can make out until I lift it more. Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath and move the flap higher. “To my apartment when you get home. The code is 54845—Julius.”
I exhale in a loud, obnoxious way. “I’m going to kill him,” I say to the empty hallway. Why would he do this to me?
Because he wants to see you.
I open the door, close it behind me, and pull my phone out to read his messages. The first one is a lengthy, heartfelt apology, or at least it seems that way. The couple that follows is him asking me to call or text back, and the last is him saying he left a note on my door and not be afraid when I see it.
He knew how I’d feel.
I don’t know why, but my heart swells with this knowledge. Julius is looking out for my well-being, despite everything. I don’t change my clothes or text him back. He doesn’t need to know I’m on my way up because I might change my mind halfway there. I also don’t know what the hell I’m doing right now, except this amazing man, who I’m crazy for, wants to see me. Never mind that it’s almost midnight, and he has children sleeping in his apartment who have school in the morning. He, himself, should be sleeping since I know he gets up with them and takes Reggie to school before going to practice. He shouldn’t wait up for me. But he has because he wants to talk, and that says volumes to me. He meant his apology—I can feel this in my gut.
My nerves are on edge as I raise my hand to knock on his door. My knuckles never make it to the wood, though, because the door swings open, and I jump.
“Hey,” Julius says with a smile that makes my knees weak, and I have to place my hand on the door jamb to keep myself upright. He reaches for me and puts his hand on my hip. “Sorry for scaring you.”
He did scare me, but I feel like my heart needed a reset so I could see what’s in front of me. Is Julius worth the headache he gave me the past few days? I think he might be.
“Come in.” He opens the door wider and sweeps his arm out. At first glance, his apartment doesn’t seem like it should be in this building. Gone are the basic off-white walls and the beige-colored carpet. Julius takes my hand and gives me a tour. His walls are rich with color. Blues and reds dominate the living area, while a soft yellow with hints of lavender makes his kitchen feel like sunshine and warmth. Down the hall, the walls are adorned with pictures of his family. From floor to ceiling, nothing but smiling faces, funny poses, and poignant moments.
“This wall is amazing.”
“I wish I could take credit for it. Elena did it.”
The mention of his wife, rather ex-wife, gives me pause. I don’t know the rules for dating a married man that is going to file for divorce. Is going to but hasn’t. What am I doing here? I shouldn’t be with a man who can’t decide on whether he wants a divorce or not, and I don’t . . . no, I refuse to be the other woman. He has children he needs to think about.
I glance at Julius and smile softly. It’s not forced, but it also doesn’t come easy because I have a knot in my stomach the size of Texas. “You said you wanted to talk,” I remind him.
“Let’s go sit.” With his hand on my back, he guides me into the living room. His sectional is massive and takes up most of the space. In my apartment, I’d have to put pieces in my bedroom, and there still wouldn’t be enough room for it. The open portion of the sofa faces the large glass door and balcony. From Julius’s apartment, you can see the skyline of the city. Red, blue and white lights from the tall buildings flash—a beacon to airplanes coming and going. Up here, it’s peaceful. You can’t hear the traffic down below or the voice that carries when people are out, walking back to their place after a night at the bar. On the wall is a large painting of Reggie and Roxy. They’re hugging and have wide, toothless grins. On the other wall, extensive cabinetry, which I’m guessing houses a television. Everything about this living room screams comfort, and I can easily see myself curled up on the couch, reading a book to Roxy.