The door buzzes open.
She comes down a minute later, wrapped in a sweater, hair loose, looking surprised and soft and way too pretty to be sitting home on a night when someone should be showing her off.
“What package?” she repeats. “And how did you even get my address?”
I lift my phone. “Charlie. I hope that’s okay.”
She tilts her head to one side. “Of course it is. But?—”
“I had a gift I wanted to give you today but forgot.” I hold out the hoodies. “These are for Theo.”
Her eyes drop to them as she takes them from my hands.
“One of them is signed,” I explain. “All the guys did it. Tell him not to wear that one. He might want to sell it someday. Or keep it forever. Either way.”
She laughs, that warm, disarming sound that always gets me. “Okay.”
“The other one is for actual use.”
“Shame he’s not here,” she says softly, her eyes meeting mine. “He’s sleeping over at a friend’s.”
“Oh.” I nod. “Well, I hope he likes them.”
She shakes her head, laughing. “I know he will. Thank you.”
I stand there for a moment longer, not wanting this to be it. I really don’t know why I didn’t just give her these earlier. I had to go and come over here, and I’m probably making things awkward now.
But I can’t shake the feelings. The dance. The touches. Dinner. Walls coming down. I know I feel it, surely she does, too? I scan my mind for anything, any kind of reason or excuse so I can stay for a few more minutes.
“And, uh…would you mind if I used your bathroom?” Seriously? This is all I can come up with? “I was driving for a while.”
“Sure,” she says. “Come on up. You can even leave him a note if you want.”
I grin. “That would be great. Thank you.”
We bypass the elevator and she takes us straight to the stairs. I’m a little grateful for this because, honestly, I don’t know what I’d do in an enclosed space with her right now. Stare? Leer?
I follow her up the stairwell and to her apartment, where she points me to a door down the hall. When I come out of the bathroom, I get the chance to look around, and the apartment hits me all at once.
A single lamp glows beside a worn armchair. Music hums low in the background—something slow and warm, like it was picked for listening, not filling space. The rest of the apartment sits in shadow, peaceful in a way that feels deliberate.
Juliette stands near the couch, watching me.
“Oh,” I say quietly. “I didn’t realize…”
“Realize what?”
“That it would feel like this.” I gesture around. “It’s cozy. Not kid things all over.”
“Oh ha ha.” Her tone is sarcastic, but she smiles a little. “I do clean up my home.”
“I figured you might,” I manage. “Did I interrupt you?”
“Reading,” she says, pointing to a book on the coffee table. “It’s rare I get to be in the living room when it’s this calm and read, so I take advantage when I can.”
I glance at the book. “Is it any good?”
“If you like happy endings,” she says dryly. “I like to set my expectations.”
