Inside the shop, Lola’s waiting as if she’s been counting the seconds since I left last time.She beams like I’ve just stepped off a tour bus and into her dreams.
“Did you bring your camera?”she asks, bouncing slightly on her toes.
“Sorry,” I say, running a hand down my neck.“Forgot it.But I’ll bring it tomorrow.”What I don’t add is:If your boss doesn’t decide she never wants to see me again and I end up checking myself into rehab just to breathe without her name in my chest.
Not because I’m spiraling.I’m not.But because I’m scared of what it’ll mean to lose her for real this time.And if that day comes, I need to be somewhere that teaches me how to survive it—without the drugs.
“Is Kit here?”
Lola shakes her head, lips pressing together as if she has good gossip she doesn’t want to keep to herself.“Nope.She just went home.You can probably catch up to her.She lives two blocks down.That blue building across from the new fancy building—the one with mirrors and steel.”
“The blue building next to the coffee shop?”
“Yes,” she says, practically glowing.“Third floor.”
And that’s when it hits me.All of it.My hand goes to my face, pinching the bridge of my nose like I can somehow hold the realization in place.
She’s been this close the entire time.
She’s lived right there.I’ve walked past her door, past her windows, past the fucking threshold of what could’ve been dozens of times.I’ve grabbed coffee across the street from her building.I’ve taken Otis on walks that circled the block, always ending there.Right near her.And neither of us noticed.Neither of us saw it.
And there’s something surreal about that.
How proximity doesn’t mean connection until you open your eyes.
I don’t thank Lola, I just move.I push through the door and break into a run, Otis catching up fast as I grab his leash and mutter, “Let’s go.”
And we do.
We sprint down the street like something’s on fire.My lungs burn, not from exertion but from anticipation.From the fucking urgency of it all.I don’t care that I seem unhinged, charging down the sidewalk like a madman with a dog that barely keeps up.All I care about is catching her.Seeing her.Saying something before the moment passes.Before the truth hides again.
We cross the second block and there she is.
Kit.
Hair blowing around her face, hemp bag in one hand, the keys to her building in the other.She’s halfway up the stoop, foot on the first step.Close enough to disappear inside and out of reach again.
And I can’t let that happen.
“Kit!”
She turns.
Her body stills and so does time.
There’s this pause—a single second stretched long and breathless.Her eyes catch mine, and it’s like the air changes.Like we’re the only two people on this street, in this fucking city, in this lifetime.
She tilts her head slightly, lips parting in surprise.Then recognition and maybe even joy.
“You stalking me now?”she calls out, smiling in that crooked, curious way that’s always undone me.
“Only if it works,” I say, trying not to sound like my heart’s galloping out of my chest.
Otis trots up and nudges her thigh like he knows her, like he’s just as invested in this moment as I am.Because he is.Because he’s seen me unravel over her.Wait for her.Rehearse what I’ll say and maybe hoping I won’t screw it up.
She bends down to pet him, and I catch my breath at the sight of her—soft, radiant in the golden hue of late afternoon, her skin flushed from the walk, her mouth inches from the one thing I want to kiss more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Come with me,” I say.My voice is rougher than I intended.It’s not just rougher but excited and fearful, but ...mostly eager.
