Despite Catherine’s concerns about having to contort her routine to avoid Jules, she didn’t see her over the next few days — barely even heard her moving around upstairs, no matter how hard she listened. It was almost as if Jules was making an effort to be as quiet as possible. It was at once relieving and disappointing. And it wasn’t as if the physical absence of Jules did anything to remove her from Catherine’s every waking thought.
Like a piece from one of her puzzles, Catherine’s life clicked back into its routine —sleep, walk, eat, work, eat, repeat.She moved through the motions, but the rhythm felt off, and she couldn’t subdue her yearning for the new beat Jules had introduced. She nodded along as her clients shared their intimate thoughts, scribbling notes that were little more than doodles on the page, reflecting her own internal chaos more than theirs.
On Friday morning, Stephanie sauntered in anddropped a hefty brown envelope on Catherine’s desk. She peeled it open, unsure how to feel as she held the wedge of legal papers that would finalise the practice’s transfer of ownership to her.
After signing off the end of an era, Catherine sighed and clicked the lid back onto her fountain pen. It felt like an occasion worth marking. The conversation with Jules at the Glasshouse flared in her mind. Jules had leaned in and trusted the universe when a new opportunity had presented itself. Catherine would be foolish not to do the same.
On her way home, she stopped at El Vino’s to book a table for dinner. She avoided the possibility she might be dining alone on a busy Friday night; that was a chance she was willing to take. She also stopped by the florist and picked out a bouquet of white roses, orchids, and lilies.
Catherine intended to leave them at Jules’s door, but as she reached the top of the stairs, the main door opened and Jules entered the hallway below, wearing her signature red coat and holding a bouquet. Jules moved to Catherine’s door and set the flowers down on the mat. She started when she turned and saw Catherine on the bottom step.
“Well… this is awkward.”
“Jules, I?—”
Jules held up her hands. “Oh, I get it. I’d have been freaked out too if I were you. I acted like a total creep, and I should’ve been honest with you sooner. You deserve better, Catherine, and I’m sorry.”
Jules collected the bouquet from Catherine’s doormat and held it out to her.
Green flag. Big green flag.
Catherine smiled and held out her own strikingly similar bouquet. They awkwardly jostled the flowers between them, and Jules frowned. “Why amIgetting flowers?”
“For a couple of reasons. Firstly, congratulations on making it through your first week in a new job. Secondly, because I wanted to apologise too.”
“What for?”
“On reflection, I was too harsh on you. You probably won’t believe me given everything that’s already happened between us, but I struggle to trust people, to let them get close to me…”
Jules raised her eyebrows.
“For some reason, I let my guard down with you, in a way I haven’t done in such a long time. But because of that, I probably overreacted; what you told me shook me more than it should have.”
Jules’s lovely lips curved into a soft smile, and Catherine’s chest tightened; she’d missed that smile, those lips. “So, maybe we could start over? You can pretend your new neighbour isn’t an unhinged psycho-stalker… and I’ll pretend to be normal for five minutes?”
Catherine laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Can I take you out for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah, I’d really like that.”
“Good, because I booked us a table for 7 p.m.”
“Ha! Okay, well it’s a date then.”
Yes,a date. This time Catherine would relax; she’d wear her normal underwear and try to focus on the green flags.
Luckily,Catherine had thought to book, because when they arrived at El Vino’s, the small restaurant was already packed with patrons. The air hummed with conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the tantalising aroma of garlic and olive oil. Mateo shepherded them into the reserved candlelit corner and returned seconds later with water and a bowl of Picos de Pan.
Catherine deferred the menu selections to Jules, who decisively ordered things Catherine hadn’t even considered or noticed on the menu before. Mateo scribbled on his little pad, nodding frantically and punctuating Jules’s words with, “Sí, sí, sí.”
Jules’s accent slid seamlessly from Scottish to what Catherine assumed was Catalan. The woman exuded confidence that was undeniably attractive. Catherine sat back and took a long sip of water, letting her eyes drink Jules in; her copper hair seemed aflame in the candlelight as she communicated with Mateo.
“¡Muy bien!” Mateo said and shuffled off to the kitchen. Jules smiled as her gaze settled back on Catherine.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Catherine shrugged and smiled back at her, feeling the blush creep up her neck. “No reason.”
Jules squinted suspiciously, the grin not leaving her lips.
