“You renewed the lease? On this place?” I thought he was joking until I saw his face. He wasn’t. “Why?”
He rolled his neck, staying quiet for a moment. Then his eyes wandered the apartment. “Because of the memories. Because it’s where I met you. Where I fell in love with you.” His brows squeezed together like he was reliving something painful. The emotion ran its course quickly. “Where we did something I didn’t think physically possible against that very wall.” Now he was smiling at the wall opposite us, his brow rising at me. “How could I just let someone else move in here with the history I have with that patch of wall?”
That wall. This table. This whole apartment. It was all connected to some moment, some memory. Some piece of us. “Soren—”
“Plus, I’m going to be making crap for the next two to three years minimum,” he continued. “So at least I know I can afford this place.”
“You just said you were the second pick.”
He blinked twice at me. “You really didn’t hear a word I said that night, did you?”
I gave him a sheepish look as I scanned the memory bank. Other than knowing there was a draft and that draft applied to him, that was the extent of my knowledge. “Would it make you feel better if I said, the better the sex, the harder I go out?”
“A little,” he grumbled, twisting the cap off the second bottle of water and sliding it across the table toward me. “So yeah, I’ll be making dick working my ass off for a minor league team for a couple of seasons minimum, but thankfully, my signing bonus will keep me well stocked in Nutter Butters and Pop-Tarts.” He patted his adored cookie package.
“So you got a signing bonus at least?”
“Seemed the least they could do for paying me fifteen hundred bucks a month for the next couple of years in this city.” He was smiling as he said it because I knew Soren wouldn’t care if they paid him in peanuts—he loved the game. He would have played for free.
“How much?” I asked before catching myself. “I don’t know—is that not a question a person should ask someone?”
“You’re not a person asking. You’re you asking.” Soren adjusted his black hat back on his forehead, still fussing with it like he couldn’t find just the right spot for it. I guessed it would take a while before this one was as broken in as his old red one. “Three and a half million dollars.”
My eyes went wide. “Three and a half million dollars? And you chose to live in this dump for a whole other year?” My nose creased as I scanned the small, outdated apartment.
“Where else would I go?” He paused just long enough, it was almost like he was giving me a chance to reply. “What about you? Have you moved into that flat in Paris yet?”
“Actually, no. I sold it. I decided after my contract ends with this client, I’m going to stay Stateside for a while.”
He was quiet, watching me pack. When I glanced up, I wasn’t expecting to find the expression on his face I did. He looked upset—tormented.
“Fuck irony,” he said, smacking his hands on the table hard enough it made it shake. “You and I both wind up back in goddamned New York in the end, and we’re no longer together to make it count.”
My eyes stung, but I forced a smile. “Yeah”—I nodded once—“fuck irony.”
Soren forced his own smile, lifting the package of cookies toward me. “Want a Nutter Butter? I’ve attempted a lot of self-soothing with these over the past month.”
“This calls for two.” I wrestled a couple from the package and took a bite out of one right after the other. Somehow, they’d become my favorites too. “I’m with a different agent now. I’m not working with Ellis anymore.” I finished my bite and packed the last couple of things away. “You were right about him. So right.” I took the roll of tape he was holding out for me.
“Good,” he said, watching me tape the box shut as his forehead creased again. “At least that’s one less thing I’ll have to worry about when I think about you.”
Unsure what to say next, I moved around the box to lift it. I’d come here planning on packing up so much more, but I couldn’t stay another minute longer. They rest would have to stay here, with him, because I couldn’t.
As I started toward the door, choking on the good-bye trying to rise, I heard him shove out of his chair. The sound of his footsteps followed me.
“Hey, Hayden?” His voice. This was the one I remembered. This was the one I heard in my dreams. “Before you go”—he paused for a fraction of a second—“I still love you.”
My heart. It couldn’t take any more. It wouldn’t survive this. Glancing over my shoulder, I knew how to say good-bye now.
“I still love you too.” Taking one final look at him, I finished the last few steps to the door.
“Then what are we doing?” His voice chased me, the sound of his feet doing the same. “Why are you moving out? Why are you walking away?”
The doorknob. It was within reach. Just open the door and leave.
My hand fastened to the doorknob, but I couldn’t twist it open. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly, he was there, right behind me, his hand dropping over mine on the door. “I don’t want you to go.”
His touch was my undoing. It had been before, and it proved it still was just now. Squeezing my eyes shut, I whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
His fingers forced their way between mine, removing my hand from the doorknob. “I’ll take my chances.” His fingers knotted through mine, our palms pressing together. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m not him.” He lifted our combined hands in front of me. “If this isn’t proof, I don’t know what is.”
“I know you aren’t him. I always knew that.” Warmth spread up my arm, nestling deep into the rest of my body. “My fear was bigger than my faith.”
Holding my stare, he took the box out of my arms and set it down against the wall. His hands found mine, one at a time, and pulled me to him at the same time he brought himself to me. When our lips connected, I felt all of the fear I carried melt away. In its place, courage swept in.
My head barely had a chance to haze from the kiss before he broke it, moving toward the door with me. “We need a redo. Let’s take this from the top. From the start.” He threw the door open, a grin on his face as he guided me just outside of the door.
“Take what from the start?” I asked, letting him place me where he wanted me.
“Just knock on the door like you’re showing up on that first day again.” He waved at the door, still hanging on to one of my hands.
“I didn’t knock on the door. You found me standing around its general area after you emerged from Mrs. Lopez’s apartment with your fly down.” I motioned down the hall. I guessed I had my answer as to who had applied that fresh coat of paint.