I know it will hurt me when he leaves. I can already feel that it will, and if we actually go through with it? Well, I can’t imagine it will hurt any less. But I can handle it. I think.
But what about him? For me to agree to this, he needs to be sure that he’ll be okay with ending it right away. That he hasn’t caught feelings and that he won’t. It’s not worth it if he gets hurt.
I need to talk to him again before I can decide. Luckily, I don’t have to wait long.
I’m ambling through the grocery store as I mull things over. Again. I’m leaning on the cart, still wearing scrubs from today’s shift at my PT practice, gazing without seeing at the shelves full of food. I have a list and have had to backtrack three separate times to get things I’ve missed.
When I go up on my tiptoes for a jar of spaghetti sauce on a high shelf, I realize there’s someone standing behind me. Someone tall. Someone who’s reaching past me for the same pasta sauce, so close that his chest is pressing on my back.
I jerk to the side, startled, until I realize who it is.
“Julian!” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
He holds out the sauce. “Seemed like you needed help reaching that shelf.”
I reach for it, chuckling softly. “Yeah.”
He lets his fingers brush over mine as the jar changes hands, then his eyes drop to the contents of my shopping cart. His browfurrows. “Are you sending some of this food away with Gage? Looks like you could feed an army with this.”
My gaze follows his to the generous piles of plastic-wrapped steaks, cartons of eggs, and frozen pizzas. “Uh…” It does, indeed, appear that I am shopping for a lot more than a household of two about to drop to one. “I guess I got distracted. You’re right. It’s probably more than I’ll need.”
He tilts his head. “You doing okay? Have you been thinking about stuff?”
I hold his gaze then give him a half smile and turn back to my shopping cart. “Walk with me, Julian.”
He follows me along the aisle as I collect my thoughts.
“I’ve been thinking about your… proposition.” I glance pointedly at a woman across the aisle, who is examining a box of pasta, then back at Julian.
He raises his chin in understanding. “Right, yes. And what do you think?”
I might as well be honest. “I am quite interested,” I say, letting the corner of my mouth curve up.
His eyes gleam.
“But—” I put a hand out toward him and stop the cart. “I feel like I need to make sure that you are totally okay with the, uh… exit plan.”
He nods slowly. “The exit plan.”
I start rolling forward again. “Yes, the single, um,transactionwould be it. I want to be sure that your… client would be okay with that being the end of our agreement. That he wouldn’t be upset orhurtby those terms.” I pause again, looking him in the eye.
“Mmm,” he hums. “Yes, okay. I see what you’re saying.”
“Good. And what do you think he would say about that?”
He peers up at the ceiling, thinking. “Well, I think he would say that he understands the agreement. He realizes that theexit plan is what’s best for everyone. And in order to have an agreement at all, he’s willing to keep his feelings out of it.”
“That might be easier said than done,” I say, pushing the cart around the end of the aisle and starting up the next one.
“Yes, that’s true. But he knows that. He can handle the risk.” Julian puts his hand over mine on the shopping cart handle, and I fight the urge to use it to pull him closer.
“Okay.” I stop and turn to face him, lowering my voice. “And we’ll keep it discreet? Just between us?”
“I love my parents, and Gage is one of my best friends. I don’t want to risk hurting them. Or you.” His grip on my hand tightens. “You can trust me, Chelsea.”
I don’t know if it’s temporary insanity or a moment of profound weakness. I tell myself we’re both adults and we can handle this, though I have little to base any confidence on. But I’m tired. Tired of denying myself, tired of resisting something that I want too. Because, let’s face it, most of my life has been about taking care of others. It’s my turn now.
I let out a shaky breath. “Okay. Then I think we can proceed.”
