Liz barked out a laugh. “You, my dear, are not coming to dinner tonight. I’ll tell Rob’s friend you had to cancel. And suggest he not get too hopeful about rescheduling.”
“There’s no way this is happening. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Julia. You’re not marrying him. You’re just telling him he doesn’t have to wait on the sidewalk. Did you know he was in the States?”
“No.”
“That’s a long way to come to say hello to you through an intercom and turn around again.”
Julia didn’t move.
“Do it,” Liz said.
Julia still didn’t move.
“Do it before he thinks you don’t want to see him and leaves.”
Julia’s breath caught. The thought of him buzzing up to her, knowing she was there, knowing she knew who it was, and then waiting for an invitation that never came…
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blake kicked his toe against the front stoop, waiting. She’d heard him, right? It was possible she hadn’t known who it was, but he doubted it. He’d heard her inhale as soon as he’d said her name.
And then nothing. No hello, no buzz of the door letting him in. Did he have the wrong apartment number, scratched on a piece of paper she’d given him with her email and mobile before things went sour for them? Or was this her way of saying, Go away?
But he could wait for her to be ready to see him. He could wait however long it took.
He’d already waited for the months he’d been traveling, for the time he’d been back home, for the end of the school year so he wouldn’t be interrupting when he knew she’d be at her busiest. He’d waited for the more than twenty-four hours it took to get from Sydney to Chicago, the image of her dark hair spurring him on. He’d even waited once he arrived, spending the night in a hotel so he wouldn’t show up completely bedraggled on her doorstep, despite the fact that it was torture to be in the same city and not rush over in the middle of the night.
And then he’d waited all day while she was at work, giving her what he hoped was enough time to come home.
Hoping she’d come home and wasn’t out with friends or colleagues or—an unimaginable thought, he pushed it aside right away—a boyfriend, someone she’d met since her return.
It didn’t matter. He was here. And this time he wasn’t going anywhere.
He was done making mistakes, done running away, done stopping himself from going after what he wanted no matter the difficulties that stood in the way. She might not want him, but that didn’t mean he was going to slink off without giving it a try.
He buzzed again, squinting up at the building to see if he could tell which window was hers. Let me in, he willed from afar. He stamped his feet against the pavement and looked down the street. Chicago was massive, sprawling, and colder than he was used to—he should have brought a jacket now that evening was settling in. He tried the door again, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard it buzz. But it banged uselessly, locked.
It occurred to him then that she really wasn’t going to see him. It had been too long, he’d done nothing but send one lousy postcard and a few brief emails that could never stand to capture all that he’d wanted to say. She had every right to turn him away. He raised his hand to the intercom one more time and then dropped it. He’d known it was a possibility as soon as he’d booked his ticket. It could be a trip for nothing. She could be done with him.
But it wasn’t nothing, he reminded himself. Trying wasn’t nothing. Nothing only happened if he walked away, waiting for life to happen to him, waiting for love to knock him out cold like he didn’t have to put in any effort when the right person came.
Nothing was how he’d felt when he was alone in Australia, going through the motions, missing the fullness he’d once held inside. Realizing how much he’d lost when pride and fear kept him from taking that trip to São Paulo and telling her he wanted to give them a try—not for a week while they were traveling, but for however long they could make their lives intertwine. No matter how many plane rides it took.
Blake knew the opportunities he’d had as a writer had come because he’d made them happen, pursuing what he wanted even when it seemed the whole world was telling him no. He’d had to make hard decisions and be persistent to make his dreams come true. Why did he think the rest of life, and love, would be any different? Why did he think he shouldn’t have to work for any of it?
Standing outside Julia’s apartment, though, he worried that he’d come to his senses too late. He had no right to assume she’d open her door after so much time had passed. He had no right to her heart anymore.
He took a sip of the fresh coconut water he’d gotten from one of those overpriced health food stores he’d gone to way on the other side of town. The sweetness reminded him of her lips and the way her eyes had lit up the first time she tasted coconut on the beach.
But the taste wasn’t the same. It was an imitation of the thing they’d once had, the kind of thing he knew now could never be recaptured. He was going to have to go back to his hotel, email Jamie to let him know he’d failed, and book the next flight home.
He was turning away when the noise he’d been waiting for suddenly came.
He leaped for the door, pushing it open before she could change her mind and stop buzzing him in. There wasn’t an elevator and he raced up the stairs, heart pounding in his throat. He tried to slow down but he couldn’t hold himself back.
This had to work. There was no other way.
He’d imagined this moment countless times since he’d left Rio in a rush. Long before he fully understood that he had to go to Chicago and see her he’d imagined her apartment, where she lived, what her life was like. Now he was here, standing in front of her door, and he couldn’t believe it was real. He raised his hand to knock but before it came down the door swung open, and he was face to face with Julia, her eyes wide and an almost frantic look on her face, and she was so beautiful, she was so goddamn beautiful, he didn’t so much step into her apartment as fall into her arms.
But he didn’t fall into her, not really, because she pulled away immediately, as though she’d been reaching out for him and then stopped herself short.
It hurt, but he understood.
For so long he’d been thinking about this moment and now that it was here, he almost didn’t know what to do.
“Hey,” he said gently, eyeing her up and down. She looked tired, softened, and he wanted to run his fingers through her hair, press his cheek to hers, tell her it was going to be okay.
But he couldn’t. He hadn’t earned that yet.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was quiet, flat, nothing he could read except that he knew her well enough to know what it meant when she was hiding, putting on that calm exterior, keeping everything else in check.
But no, he thought suddenly, that wasn’t quite right. The smallness in her voice was different than anything he’d heard from her before. She wasn’t pretending, acting tough and in control. She was showing her uncertainty, her fear. She was showing herself to him.
He extended the large plastic cup. “I brought you something.”
Julia eyed him uncertainly. “What is it?”
He grinned. “Taste.”
Gingerly she took the cup, looking at him like he was a wild animal who’d stepped out of his cage. Safe for the moment but ready to bite.
Still, she didn’t toss the liquid in his face and kick him down the stairs. Slowly, watching him, she brought the straw to her lips.
Realization dawned over her face as she drank. “Where did you find this?” she asked breathlessly, staring at him not with the same caution but with something else now, as though he were a creature she’d never seen before.
He couldn’t stop the smile. “It’s not the same as the real thing, but it’s as close as I could get. Better than the packaged stuff, that’s for sure.”