: Chapter 16

It was caramel week, and Owen had baked four different caramel treats while I had tackled our basics—sandwiches, brownies, and berry muffins. Even our basics tended to change day by day since we were such a new place, but in a month or so we’d have a more set menu after we got to know our customers and learned what they enjoyed more.

On Monday, I had taken my usual ride with Raymond at five and had joined Owen in the kitchen as soon as I got in. Sally had come in an hour after me, earlier than her usual time. The mystery was solved when she started trying her best to flirt with a straight-faced Owen.

“You think you could teach me how to make this salted caramel banana bread? It’s really good.”

Owen just grunted and kept working the dough in his hands. He was making cinnamon buns, my absolute favorite.

Sally gave me a wide-eyed look and rolled her eyes. She was relentless. Resting her elbows on the marble workspace that dominated the center of the kitchen, she pushed him some more.

“I’ll cook you something. What’s your favorite food? I can’t bake to save my life, but I can cook.”

“If you can’t bake, what makes you think you’ll be able to make banana bread?” Owen asked, his eyes and hands busy, busy, busy.

Sally just slid a little closer to him. “You can teach me. I’m sure if you teach me, I’ll get the hang of it, and from what I understand, banana bread isn’t that hard to make.”

“Can you back off a little? You’re gonna be covered in flour if you come any closer.”

Barely holding back my burst of laughter before I attracted Owen’s fierce frown, I turned away from the doorway and focused on stacking up the sandwiches under the glass dome. Owen didn’t like anyone messing with his routine. He barely tolerated me working alongside him for a few hours in the mornings, so even though he sounded rude, it was just his way, not to mention he was also a very private person.

“Would you like me to make you coffee?” I heard Sally push on, ignoring his rudeness.

As Owen grunted a nonverbal response that didn’t quite reach my ears, I couldn’t help but lean back to take a peek into the kitchen. Sally had been dismissed to her original starting point right across from him.

“How about cinnamon buns then?” Her voice was still upbeat and positive.

“What about them?”

“Can you teach me how to make cinnamon buns? It looks like a lot of fun, all the rolling and cinnamon stuff.”

“Stuff… Don’t you have work to do at the front? It’s almost opening time.”

I bit down on my lip and got back to my own work. Owen was somewhat like Jack— essentially, not a fan of using a lot of words. Speaking of Jack…I was still experiencing the effects of my dream and then everything that had happened after it. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d been thinking when I’d decided to work on our kissing technique, but at the time, trying to see if what I had felt at the charity event was a one-time thing or not seemed like a good idea. Maybe my dream was the driving force behind me having the bravery to face him, but I couldn’t complain. The second kiss was just as good as the first one, maybe even better because we’d been all alone in his study, away from all the curious eyes. It was still temporary, this thing between us, but the dream had shifted something inside me, I felt it with every fiber of my being.

For a second there, I thought I had felt his erection against my stomach when he grasped the back of my shirt and pulled me in closer. I had encountered them in the wild before. I wasn’t imagining that. I might have imagined—because of the damn dream—that he was really into the kiss as well, but I hadn’t conjured up that erection in my mind.

He was a great kisser; there was no arguing with that. He was just a little rough and completely consuming, just as I had imagined he would be, and I thought I had a completely different stance about PDA after the weekend. I didn’t think he’d fall for the ‘practice kiss’ again, so I was going to have to make the kissing in public thing…well, a thing for us—only to make our marriage more believable, not for myself or anything.

Then again, who was I kidding? Everything about Jack was starting to become too appealing for me. I was starting look forward to seeing his stony and sometimes aloof expression at the end of the day…every day. I chatted more than him, but he was talking, too, much more than he had in the beginning. I hardly did the ‘talking to myself as Jack’ thing anymore, and when I did, it was for the fun of seeing his troubled expression as if he was considering his life choices of ending up in a fake marriage with me. I wasn’t making fun of him or anything even remotely close to that. I just enjoyed the way he glowered at me a little too much.

It was the highlight of my day.

And that smile…gosh, he had finally smiled, and it had absolutely been worth the wait to see his face transform. You could fall in love with that face, with that smile, even if the package came with the frown and the prickly personality. I just couldn’t decide which expression I preferred more on him, because I thought you could easily fall for that stony, grumpy expression just as hard. Then again, the way I was feeling after that dream, my unexpected attraction to Jack had tripled overnight. Clearly I couldn’t be trusted to be around him until the effects wore off.

“What are you smiling at? That was a complete disaster,” Sally mumbled as she sidled up next to me, licking her fingers, presumably after snacking on sticky banana bread.

I stopped daydreaming about Jack and tried to focus on Sally. She wasn’t exactly pouting, but she was getting there.

“I didn’t realize you were interested in him,” I replied, ignoring her question.

She reached for a mint from a small bowl next to the cash register, unfolded the wrapper, and popped it in her mouth.

“I can see how it might be a little too late to ask after what you just witnessed, but do you have a rule against employees dating?”

Stacking the last turkey sandwich, I put the glass dome back in its place and turned to Sally, thinking about my answer for a moment. “I mean…you two are my only employees, obviously, so I’ve never even thought about it. You’re into him that much? I thought maybe you were just messing with him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s fun to get him all riled up?”

Sometimes I thought it was fun to rile Jack up.

“Nope.” She shook her head and glanced toward the kitchen over my shoulder. “I mean, he is really attractive, don’t you think?”

I looked over my shoulder to try to see what she was seeing. Owen was rolling the dough, his biceps flexing. He actually was attractive when you took a long look at him, not in the sense that Jack was attractive, but in a more…different way. He looked more like a French guy without the romantic and charming part. His brown hair was curly and fell over his forehead, and you could see the edges of the tattoos on his strong arms curling under his shirt. He was skinnier than Jack but still lean. Jack felt stronger to me. When I looked at Owen, I didn’t feel like You know what, I think I would like to hug that. He was just…Owen, a friend. When I looked at Jack, I was very interested in hugging him and staying in his arms for as long as possible.

Sally waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Rose?”

I snapped out of my Jack haze.

“Sorry. I guess he is attractive.”

“And he has this intense air about him. It seems to be working for me. I don’t know, I wouldn’t say no to a date.”

“Well I think it looks like you’ll be the one asking in this case.”

I reached for the brownies and pushed them in front of the chocolate muffins, rearranging things so the sandwiches would be on the far left next to the register, tempting the customers.

“So you have no problem with this, then? I really like working with you, and I won’t risk that for a guy, but if it’s okay with you, I might go for it one of these days.”

How the hell was I supposed to decide on something like this? “As long as it doesn’t affect your work, I think I’m okay with it? You sure about this, though? I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable if he isn’t interested.” It probably wasn’t one of my finest ideas, but I didn’t know how to say no. I was still a romantic at heart, despite my own marital status.

“Oh, no. He isn’t ready yet. I’m gonna have to work on him little by little, which is the fun part, to be honest.” She gave me a blinding smile, bouncing twice on her feet. “Okay, I’ll go wash my hands and unload the last batch of coffee cups then get everything else ready.”

Before I could say okay, she was already back in the kitchen, her eyes lingering on Owen as she walked past him.

If I wanted something real with Jack, would I have to work on him little by little? Not that it didn’t sound fun. But would I even want to complicate things like that? He wasn’t the romantic type; he was a whole different type of his own. Sure, he was my husband, but that was all just an act, nothing more, and the erection…well, I thought it was pretty much involuntary when kissing someone. He didn’t have a special erection for me. It wasn’t a special erection.

There was a hard knock on the glass door that jolted me out of my thoughts and I turned to find a young guy, maybe in his early twenties, looking inside the coffee shop with a huge bouquet of roses in his arms.

With a big grin blooming across my face, I rushed to the door and unlocked it, the cold air hitting my cheeks a refreshing welcome after all my thoughts of Jack Hawthorne and his not-so-special erection.

“Rose Hawthorne?” the guy asked. He was bundled in a blue jacket and was jumping in place, presumably to keep warm.

“Yes, that’s me.” I could barely keep my hands to myself as he checked something on his notepad then finally handed me the flowers wrapped in brown paper, but there was no note. “Who are they from?”

“It says Jack Hawthorne.”

The grin still going strong on my face, I hugged them to my chest then signed where he was pointing at.

“Have a good day,” he offered before running back to the white van that was apparently waiting for him.

“You too!” I shouted, waving even though he wasn’t looking back.

I pushed the door closed with my hip and locked it back up, my eyes on the roses as I made my way back toward the kitchen and Sally appeared in the doorway.

“Did I hear a kno—oh, Rose! Look at them!”

I was. I was looking and trying to contain the smile on my face while also trying to ignore the lightness I was feeling in my heart.

“They are gorgeous,” I mumbled, almost to myself, as I touched a few rosebuds. This week there were pinkish purple and white roses.

“Okay, I’m officially in love with your husband. He is too cute.”

I laughed, feeling all happy from head to toe. “He doesn’t like it when people think he is cute, but yeah, I wholeheartedly agree.” Still smiling, I looked around the coffee shop. Some of the roses he had brought in the previous week were still going strong, but I had switched the ones that had started fading with fake ones just half an hour earlier. I was going to switch them all out for the fresh ones.

“Do you want me to help?” Sally asked, leaning in to smell the roses.

I didn’t know why I was feeling protective, but I wanted to handle the roses myself and only barely stopped myself from snatching them away from her nose. As stupid as it sounded, I tried not to think about it too much. They were all mine.

“No, I got it, but can you gather the fake ones and bring the mini vases to the back so I can change them all out?”

“Of course.”

It took me ten minutes to have them all out on the tables, and the remaining twelve were set on the counter next to the cash register so I could constantly see them and maybe put a little smile on the faces of my customers too. Placing the last one on the table in front of the bookshelf, I reached for my back pocket and took out my phone. We still had eight minutes before I would unlock the doors and welcome our first customers.

Not wanting to wait any longer, I quickly typed a text.

Rose: Hi.

Jack: Something wrong?

I laughed and sat down in the chair closest to me.

Rose: Nope, just saying hi, and thank you.

Jack: Hi. Thank you for what?

Rose: The flowers. I still can’t stop smiling.

Jack: Glad you liked them.

Rose: I love them, but I might have liked the ones from last week more.

Jack: Did they mess up the order again? I’ll call them.

Rose: No! Wait.

Rose: They didn’t mess it up. It’s just that…last week you brought them in yourself, and that was more…something, I guess.

I closed my eyes and groaned, loudly. I couldn’t possibly be cheesier, and I was officially flirting with my husband, officially poking the beehive, knowing it couldn’t possibly end well.

Jack: I see.

I see. That was all he gave me. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

Rose: Will you drop by before work? I make good free coffee.

Jack: I’m afraid I’m already at work. We have an early meeting.

I tried not to feel disappointed, but it was hard.

Rose: Ah, okay. I’m sorry, I know you don’t like texting so I’ll shut up. Hope you have a good day. Again, thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.

I hit myself on the forehead with the side of my phone a few times. I needed to get it together. I was not in love with Jack Hawthorne, and he was most definitely not in love with me either. It had just been a very, very convincing dream and kiss and touch and…that was it. Also, I just found him attractive—any woman would. That wasn’t a crime. Deep down, as prickly and cold as he seemed, he was actually a very good person.

Just as I was getting up to finally unlock the front door, my phone buzzed in my hand with another text. Glancing at the screen as I was walking, my heart soared when I saw his name, and I stopped next to the cash register.

Jack: Do you want to see me?

Rose: What?

Jack: You said you liked the flowers I brought in more and you offered me free coffee. Am I assuming…

He was flirting back. As unbelievable as that sounded, I still hoped.

Finding it—him—stupidly charming, I quickly wrote back.

Rose: I mean, you’re my husband, so I think I’m bound to look at you. Thankfully you’re not too bad-looking, so I wouldn’t cover my eyes if you showed up.

The second I pressed send, I wanted to take it back, delete it, and write something more…smart and witty, but it was too late.

“Hey, again, earth to Rose. Can you hear me?” Sally yelled from somewhere behind me. “We have two customers waiting—maybe we should open a few minutes early.”

I looked up in surprise and only then noticed the two girls waiting for me to open the door. I rushed forward and invited them in, apologizing.

As Sally started on the coffee orders, I served them one sandwich and one blueberry muffin. As the next customer and the next started to file in, my phone buzzed twice in my pocket, causing an irrational excitement in me as I tried to ignore it and chatted with the customers.

When the last customer in line left, Sally and I looked around the place. Some were on their laptops, some just chatting with their friends. One person was reading a book they had picked up from the bookcase, and nine tables were already full.

“This is a great start to the week,” Sally commented while wiping down the counter.

“It is, isn’t it? I think we’re doing very well. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you—I have a doctor’s appointment at two PM, so I asked Owen to stay until I get back. Do you think you two can handle it? I’ll get back as soon as I’m done.”

She stopped and turned her worried gaze to me. “Something wrong?” Then her eyes widened comically. “Are you pregnant?”

I frowned at her. “No! I just got married! What are you talking about?” My frown deepening, I looked down at my stomach. “Do I look pregnant or something?”

“No, you don’t look pregnant at all. My mistake. With that husband of yours you could get pregnant just by him looking at you, so I’d say watch out.”

I just stared at her in something close to horror, and she laughed.

“Fine. Pretend I didn’t say anything. Of course I’ll handle it. The lunch rush will be over by the time you leave so we’ll be fine until you come back. Everything all right? Still the cold?”

“Yeah.” I gingerly touched my nose, glad it wasn’t runny at the moment. But it had been when I first woke up. “I think it’s just allergies if not a weird cold. I just need to get a nose spray or something. I won’t take long.”

“Okay. You go do whatever you gotta do.” Her smile turned into a grin. “It’ll give me time to start working on Owen, so great timing on your part.”

As soon as Sally headed to the kitchen, I reached for my phone to read my texts.

Jack: I’m glad I’m considered not too bad to look at.

Jack: Are you free for dinner tonight?

It didn’t seem like he was flirting, because he asked if I was free for dinner every night anyway. My excitement slowly deflated, and before I could type something back, a new customer walked in.

After I walked out of the doctor’s office, I took the train to Midtown instead of heading straight back to Madison Avenue. I was still feeling a little dizzy, but if I was being honest with myself, I’d started feeling dizzy the moment the doctor had started talking.

One time I’d been prescribed antibiotics for my sore throat when I was twenty-years-old, and I’d ended up at the emergency room. As it turned out, I was allergic to penicillin. Giving my blood was a whole other…experience. To say I didn’t like needles, doctors or hospitals of any kind would be an understatement. Because of all that, I could do nothing but feel dizzy, thinking the worst.

As to why I was standing in front of Jack’s building near Bryant Park, I didn’t have a straight answer for that. I walked through security, got in the elevator with six other people, and got off on Jack’s floor. I walked up to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed receptionist, the same one I’d seen the only two times I’d been there.

“Hi. I wanted to see Jack?”

“Hello, Mrs. Hawthorne. You don’t have to stop here—you can go straight to his office.”

Dazed, I nodded and thanked her. I had forgotten I was the wife for a second there. While heading to his office, I bumped into Samantha, who was walking next to two other suits.

“Rose?”

I stopped moving my legs one in front of the other. “Oh, hello Samantha. I’m here to see Jack.”

Her perfectly shaped and perfectly arched eyebrows drew together. “Are you okay?”

I held on to the bag on my shoulder tighter. “Yes. Good. Thank you. Do you think Jack will be in his office?”

“I think he is out, actually, but check with Cynthia and she’ll let you know.” The two suits kept talking and walking without her so she glanced at them over her shoulder then faced me again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”

Surprised that she sounded genuine, I forced a smile onto my face. “Oh, yeah. Just a little sick. It was nice to see you again.” Without waiting for another question, I walked toward Jack’s office, taking the left turn at the end of the hall. Cynthia was on a call so I cast a quick glance into the office as I got closer; it didn’t look like Jack was in there.

“Hello, Rose. How nice to see you here.” Cynthia’s voice made me turn back to her.

“Hey, Cynthia. I just needed a few minutes with Jack. Is he around?”

“He had a lunch meeting with a client.” She looked down at her wrist, checking the time. “Did he know you were coming?”

“Oh, no. I just dropped by. I need to head back to work soon. If you think he’ll be much longer, I can just leave. I’ll catch him tonight.”

“He should be here in five or ten. You can wait in his office. Would you like me to bring you some tea or coffee while you’re waiting?”

I shook my head and managed to offer her a small smile. “I’m good. Thank you.”

When she pushed the heavy glass door open for me, I walked straight toward the two comfortable chairs in front of his meticulously organized desk and sat down.

When I looked back, Cynthia was gone.

Having a moment to myself, I grabbed a clean Kleenex from my bag and, holding it tightly in my hand, leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down and give my wildly imaginative mind a break.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t even know how many minutes had passed when the office door behind me opened and I looked over my shoulder. I wasn’t sure how or what I was feeling when Jack’s head lifted up from the phone in his hand and he noticed I was waiting there.

“Rose?” His brows snapped together in confusion as he paused with one foot through the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

I lifted my hand halfway up in a weak wave and then dropped it.

Cynthia appeared behind him, a little breathless. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you to tell you Rose was waiting for you. Do you want me to call George and push back that meeting?”

“Oh, no. Please don’t,” I cut in, standing up before he could answer her. “I just dropped by. I don’t want to mess up his schedule. I’ll leave.” I bent down and collected my bag from the floor. Keeping my eyes down and feeling like I was about to break down at any second now that Jack was actually standing in front of me, I tried to walk past him, but he used his body to block me and gently gripped my wrist before I could do anything else.

Jack turned his head toward Cynthia but kept his searching gaze on me. “Give us a few minutes before you do that, okay?”

“Of course.”

My eyes met Cynthia’s and she gave me a small smile right before Jack shuffled me inside and she closed the door on us.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked as soon as it was just the two of us in the spacious office.

I pulled my hand away from his warm, gentle grip, massaging my wrist. Any kind of touching would just cause me to break down faster.

“Nothing. I just dropped by. I should leave.” I checked my watch and then set my gaze on his shoulder instead of his eyes. “It’s pretty late. Owen is covering for me with Sally, but I think I should head back so he can take off. So, I’m just gonna leave.”

Despite my repetitive words, I couldn’t make a move to leave, and Jack wasn’t getting out of my way anyway. A few seconds later, I felt two of his fingers gently tilt my chin up and remain there.

We looked at each other for a few heartbeats. I really was affected by the dream I’d had the night before. It still felt like there was something real between us, and it was quite possibly the worst time to feel the leftover effects of being in love with him—or, more accurately, the effects of him being in love with me.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Rose,” he said simply, his voice soft and worried. “Have you been crying?”

I winced a little then bit on the inside of my cheek as he waited patiently. “Just a little, but it’s nothing big. I just went to the doctor and—” My voice started breaking so I stopped.

“When? Why?” He let my chin go.

“Now. I mean I’m coming from the doctor’s office. I had an appointment. I wanted to get a spray or something for the allergies.” I touched my nose and his gaze followed. “For my nose. Obviously.” I smiled, but I didn’t think it reached my eyes.

“For the cold, right?”

Lately, I was always walking around with a Kleenex in my hand or had some nearby, just in case it started up when I wasn’t expecting it.

“Yes, the one-day sore throat and the…um, runny nose and the headaches. Anyway, it doesn’t feel like a normal cold. I feel completely fine if you don’t count the headaches and the nose issues, which is why I thought suddenly I’d become allergic to something. It’s like water dripping from my nose.” I let out a small groan and looked away. “Talking about my nose is not what I want to do with you at all.”

He ignored my discomfort. “I never saw you have any problems like that other than a few times.”

“That’s because it’s not dripping 24/7. Sometimes it’s okay if I’m standing up, but when I sit down, it starts dripping. Lying on my back is obviously fine, and so is keeping my head tilted back, but sometimes when I sleep on my face, I wake up in the middle of the night because I can feel something trailing down and… You get the point. Also, when it starts up when I’m working or like when we were at the charity event, I have to push a cotton ball or some tissue paper up there, something so I don’t have to hold a tissue under my nose like this all the time.” I lamented my words when I had to hold the Kleenex up to my face again. “In any case, whatever I do, it gets drenched too quickly anyway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before, Rose? Why did you wait?”

“I was working, and I thought it would go away on its own. Plus, I don’t like doctors. Sometimes it starts up and doesn’t stop for hours. Sometimes it disappears after half an hour or so. I try my best not to tilt my head down, because that triggers it too. Thankfully in the mornings it’s slow, for some reason, so it hasn’t been a big issue when I’m baking, but I never know when it’s going to happen. Speaking of…”

I felt it coming down again, and the Kleenex in my hand was done already. Holding on to the chair, I slowly got down to my knees, my eyes looking up at the ceiling. Blindly, I tried to reach for my bag, but suddenly Jack was on his knees too, reaching for my hands. I felt my eyes blur a little.

“Can you get me a tissue, please?” I asked, keeping my chin up and away from his gaze.

He let go of me and got up to leave.

“Wait, I have some in my—”

He walked out of his office before I could tell him I had some more in my bag. I stood up. He came back with a pretty box of Kleenex and held it out for me. I pulled one out and, sniffling, held it under my nose.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, looking straight into my eyes. I nodded and tilted my head back a little more to stop the flow a bit. Sometimes that helped. Now that I’d learned what it could be, the feeling of that warm trickle was freaking me out more than it had only hours earlier.

Jack massaged his temple, walked a few steps away, and then came back to stand in front of me. “Okay. Okay, tell me what the doctor said. I’m assuming it’s not allergies from the look on your face.”

“Nope. Turns out it’s probably not allergies or a cold. He wants to run some tests, wants to get a CT scan and an MRI, but he thinks I might have cerebrospinal fluid leak, especially because it’s only coming from one side of my nose.” I twisted my lips and tried my best to hold back my tears. His eyes studied my face, and the longer I looked into his gaze, the more his image started to blur.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered, his face unreadable.

I nodded. Given the kind of guy he was, I didn’t think dealing with a crying female would be his favorite thing to do, but even hearing his gravelly voice was breaking the tight hold I’d had on myself ever since I left the doctor’s office.

I’d put my bag on the chair as I was standing up, so I grabbed it and hitched it higher on my shoulder then nodded to myself. Tightening my fingers around the Kleenex in my grasp, I dropped my hand down. “I should leave, really. I should’ve gone straight back to work in the first place. I just thought I’d drop by and tell you I might not be able to join you—” When the first tear slowly slid down my cheek, I angrily swiped at it with the back of my hand. “I might not be able to join you at events for a while. I think they need to do surgery so I’m not sure if I’m gonna…”

He looked at me for a long time as the tears I had promised myself I wouldn’t shed started to come more rapidly after the word surgery. Then I felt the now familiar feeling that something was running down my nose, so I quickly tilted my head back. The last thing—the very last thing I wanted was for him to actually see something coming down my nose. I felt like I couldn’t come back from that.

“Okay.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his cool demeanor cracking just slightly in front of my eyes. “Okay. Let’s just sit the fuck down for a second.” It was the first time I’d heard him curse. “And stop saying you need to leave. You’re not going anywhere.”

I nodded as much as I could with my head tilted back, because what else could I have done? I didn’t want to interrupt him at his office, but I didn’t have it in me to leave either. As I turned around to head back for the chairs, he stopped me with one hand on my arm and opened the office door again with the other one.

“Cynthia, call George and tell him I won’t make it. Send him the junior associate I worked with—she should have the details he needs. I’ll get back to him later.”

“Jack,” I broke in as he closed the door without even waiting to hear Cynthia’s answer. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“What did I just tell you?” He pulled me toward the couch that was next to the floor-to-ceiling windows and sat right next to me. He was still holding the Kleenex box in his hand. I didn’t know why I focused on that so much, but him holding that box along with the intense and slightly scary expression on his face while wearing one of his many expensive suits would always be a good memory for me after this whole marriage business was over.

“I don’t think I know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Rely on someone. Lean on someone. I feel like I’m messing it up.”

“I want to be that person to you, Rose. I want to be the person you lean on. You and I, we’re the same. We have no one but each other. You’ll lean on me and I’ll do the same. We’ll learn how. We’re in this together.”

I was speechless.

“Now tell me what the hell a cerebro…”

“Cerebrospinal leak,” I finished for him.

“Whatever the hell it is. Tell me what needs to be done. How did it happen? When are you scheduled for the MRI and CT scan? Tell me everything, Rose.”

I managed to stop the tears, but my nose was still leaking. “Can you give me another tissue, please?”

He pulled another one out and handed it to me. I mumbled a thank you and quickly held it under my nose as I pushed the used one into my bag. There were more than a few like it in there already. He turned his body so he was sitting on the edge of the leather couch, his knee pushing at the side of my thigh, and then he finally placed the box on the glass square table in front of us. Sniffling, I wiped my nose and held it in place.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m fine—that’s the weird thing.”

“Okay. Now tell me everything he said, from the beginning.”

“So, I went in and told him what was happening, and he just looked into my nose and then my throat because I said I had a sore throat a week or so ago, but now I think that’s totally unrelated. Then he asked me if I’ve been in an accident recently or had any kind of surgery, a head trauma, a hard hit to the head. I haven’t, and I told him that. Then he asked about the taste of the liquid and I told him I had no idea because I didn’t taste it, obviously. I was fine at the doctor’s office so I couldn’t show him, but I told him it especially starts dripping whenever I lean down for too long, look down, bend down, or when I sleep on my face at night—which is every night.”

“Did he tell you what it is exactly? Explain cerebrospinal leak to me.”

I blew out a breath and swallowed. “He wouldn’t tell me much, said he wanted to schedule an MRI and a CT scan right away to make sure, but I kept asking, and apparently the CSF—cerebrospinal fluid—leak occurs when there is a hole or tear in the membrane that surrounds and cushions the brain. Apparently it can be around the spinal cord too. Ah, anyway…so the fluid, just a clear liquid, in the membrane protecting the brain starts leaking through the nose. Since I didn’t have a head trauma, I don’t know how it happened.” My eyes started watering again. “And I feel so icky just talking about this. I was sure it was allergies even though I’ve never had them before.”

“And he is sure this is CSF?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s why he wanted to schedule the MRI and CT scan. Apparently they’ll be able to see where the leak is coming from, if there is a hole, and things like that.”

“When are you going in for the scans?”

This was the bad part, or the worse part. I winced. “I didn’t schedule them.” My nose seemed to take a break so I rested my hands in my lap.

His forehead creased. “What do you mean you didn’t schedule them?”

“A CT scan, I can do, Jack. I googled it and it’s only a minute, plus only my head would go in. The MRI, which is what he said they needed to see if there is a hole and where it is—that one I can’t do.”

He looked at me in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not okay with closed spaces.”

“You’re claustrophobic? You never panic in an elevator.”

“Elevators are fine, as long as I don’t get stuck in them. Plus, I can move. I don’t have to stay still. I talked to a nurse when I exited the doctor’s office and apparently their MRI machine is old and the type of scan he wants takes over fifteen minutes, and I can’t move at all during it—as in I’m not allowed to move or twitch any part of my body. If I do, they’ll have to start all over again.” I could feel my eyes burning with tears. I felt so stupid. “Thinking about it is already giving me anxiety, and she said they will need to close a cage on my head because apparently it needs to be stable.” I shook my head more vehemently. “Trust me, I know how stupid it sounds, but I can’t do it, Jack. I can’t.”

He stared at me for a few beats and I hoped he’d understand. “There are open MRI machines. You wouldn’t have to be closed in.”

A tear escaped from my eye and I let it be. “She said the scan he wants is complicated and those machines don’t take that scan. It has to be closed.”

He watched the tear slide down my cheek and abruptly got up to pace in front of the couch as he ran his hand over his face. He stopped and took a deep breath. “Wait.” Opening his office door, he leaned toward Cynthia. “Call Benjamin for me, tell him it’s urgent.” Casting a quick look my way, he headed for his desk and lifted his phone as soon as it started ringing. “Okay. That’s fine.”

Then I listened to him talk to Benjamin, who was apparently a doctor from what I could tell from Jack’s side of the conversation. A few minutes later, after he had explained my situation, he had made an appointment for me for the next day with an ENT specialist this Benjamin guy recommended. More doctors—just what I needed.

When he set the phone down, I got up to my feet. He met me halfway as I was headed for the door.

“We’ll meet him at eleven tomorrow morning and see what he has to say. Maybe we can get out of it without an MRI.”

“Okay,” I muttered, trying to walk past him. “I really need to leave.” The more I thought about doctors and tests, the more anxious I was starting to get, and I needed to just get out and breathe in the cold, fresh air.

“What’s wrong?” His hand curled around my wrist again, stopping me.

“Nothing,” I said, my tone a little harsher than necessary. “I need to leave. I’m already late.”

“Hey.” Dropping my wrist, he covered my cheek with his palm, and my lips started to tremble. I was one of those who couldn’t handle kindness when I was already teetering on the edge, and the gentle tone of his voice was the worst thing he could’ve offered to me in that moment.

“Are you gonna die?” His question was too much of a contradiction with the tone of his voice and his warm hand resting on my cheek, which was why I couldn’t find my words for a moment.

I blinked at him. “What?” I stuttered, shocked out of my tears.

“I asked if you’re going to die.” He pulled his hand away from me and dropped it to his side. “Is it something like cancer?” he continued. “Did the doctor say anything like that? Is it not treatable? If that’s the case, let’s sit down and cry together and break things.”

I just kept blinking up at him, drawing a blank as to how to respond. A few seconds later, I just burst into laughter. I was aware that it probably looked like I was losing it in front of him, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jack actually must have thought I had indeed lost it, because the line between his brows got deeper by the second.

“Something funny?”

“Oh, the things you say to me, Jack Hawthorne.” I sighed, wiping tears of laughter from under my eyes. “I think this might be why I found myself in front of your building, because I probably knew you wouldn’t cuddle me and allow self-pity. If I’d called any of my friends or gone straight to the coffee shop, I would have just felt sorry for myself the entire day.”

When his expression didn’t lighten up, I decided to go ahead and answer his question.

“No, I don’t think I’m going to die. I hope not, at least. He didn’t say it was anything that bad—if I have what he thinks I have, that is. There is always the possibility of ending up having surgery and dying on the table, but then again he might have skipped that part because I don’t think it’d be a very positive thing to tell a patient.”

Jack tilted his head and gave me an impressively exasperated look. “How about we don’t jump to any conclusions yet? We don’t know whether it is CSF or something else. Let’s see the ENT specialist tomorrow and then start to worry about tests and scans and surgeries.”

I nodded and took a deep, deep breath, having gotten a better handle on my emotions thanks to his brand of tough love. “I’m not good with doctors,” I told him, repeating my earlier confession. “I’m not good with stuff like this.”

“I really couldn’t tell.” His beautiful and gentle smile was the last straw for me, and the tears just started to roll down my face.

He must’ve misunderstood my tears, because he rushed to explain. “You have to stop crying. I can’t take it. We’ll deal with it together, if it comes to it, but we’re not going to worry about it before we know what it is exactly. It doesn’t make sense to do so. Agreed?”

“Now you smile at me?” I blurted out, ignoring his support. His face was already blurring as my eyes started to fill with tears, but I managed to hit him on his chest once, lightly. “Now?” I didn’t even realize my voice was rising, but I felt his entire demeanor change as he kept my hand against his chest and pulled me in closer, which only made things worse.

I rested my forehead against his chest, near his heart, and tried to get myself together. When his deeply masculine scent started to mess with me, I grabbed the lapel of his jacket in my fist and pulled back so I could look up at him.

“This is the worst timing, Jack. If it really is brain, spinal cord fluid leak, or whatever the hell it is, he said I’d need to have surgery. I’m afraid of needles! Needles, for God’s sake. Surgery? And that close to my brain or spinal cord?” I took a breath and continued. “I know this is going to sound extremely vain and I hate myself for it, but does this mean they’re gonna cut my hair off? Go in through my skull? How would it even work? I was going to google it on my way over here, but I couldn’t even manage that.”

Both his hands went up to my cheeks this time as he cleared my rapidly falling tears with his thumbs. “We’re not gonna do that.” He leaned down so he could be eye level with me. “We’re not gonna start worrying before we know what’s going on. I told you this already and you’re not hearing me.”

“I just know it’s CSF.” I stared into his eyes. “With my luck, I know it is.” To have something to hold on to or maybe because I wanted to keep him connected to me as long as I could, I lifted my hands and placed them over Jack’s wrists. “I don’t want this, Jack. I have the coffee shop. After years of dreaming, I have it, and I can’t close it if I have to have surgery. We just opened.”

He took a step closer and I released my hold on his wrists. “Who is talking about closing? You have employees—they can take care of it. If not, we’ll hire someone else to help. Are you even listening to what I’m saying? We don’t know what’s going on yet, Rose. Let’s see what they say tomorrow and we’ll start thinking about the coffee shop then.”

My breath hitched as I managed a small nod with his hands on my cheeks. I must’ve looked like a mess, and I knew I felt like one. I tried my best to stop being stupid and listen to him, but my heart was clenching and I was starting to have trouble breathing. I forced myself to take a deep breath as Jack tilted my head back so he could look into my eyes.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m right here, Rose. We’ll figure it out together. We have each other now.”

Cue more tears, because this Jack was too close to the dream Jack. As a result, I couldn’t help but lean forward and rest my forehead on his chest again. His hands fell from my face even as I burrowed closer, deeper into him. Both my arms were flat against his chest yet his arms stayed limp at his sides. I didn’t say anything, just stood there and breathed in his scent, and for a good long while, at that. As my breathing slowly returned to normal, he didn’t say anything either.

I closed my eyes tight. If he didn’t wrap his arms around me in the next few seconds, I’d have to pull back and walk away from him, otherwise it was going to be too awkward. Then I felt his arms embrace me.

“I’m right here, Rose,” he whispered, his rough voice washing over me like a caress that fired something up inside me. “I might not be what you wanted or needed, but you got me anyway. I’m right here.”

There was a tightness in my chest when I answered him. “You said that, in the beginning, said you weren’t good at this kind of stuff. You’re doing wonderful, Jack.” I managed to push myself even closer to him as his arms tightened around me.

Maybe I would start to be greedy with this man.

I didn’t know how long we stood like that, right in the middle of his office, but when there was a soft knock on the door, I reluctantly stepped back and tried my best to wipe under my eyes. I could only imagine what I must look like. I glanced at my fingers and held back a groan when I saw the black smudges of what was left of my mascara.

Jack had turned halfway to glance at the newcomer so he couldn’t see me as I reached for a Kleenex and furiously started wiping at my face. The damage was done and he’d already seen the worst, but that didn’t mean he had to keep looking at it.

When I heard Samantha’s voice asking if everything was all right, I quietly groaned, still hiding behind Jack’s big frame.

“Yes. Do you need something?” Jack asked, his tone much more businesslike.

“No, I saw Rose earlier and was concern—”

“Thank you, Samantha, but I’d like to be alone with my wife if there is nothing else you need.”

I paused the wiping as a heavy silence followed his words.

“Of course,” she said tightly, and then the door gently closed.

I hurried and pushed the Kleenex into the pocket of my jeans before Jack could face me again.

“Feeling better?” he asked, eyes moving across my face. I hoped I was at least a normal shade of human.

“Mhmm.”

When he closed the distance between us with an unexpected smile on his face, I was surprised.

“Why did you really come here, Rose?” he asked, pushing my hair away from my ruined face. “Just to tell me you weren’t gonna be able to attend events with me? Just because you knew I wouldn’t let you break down?”

I stood still as he reached up and his thumb started a gentle stroke on my cheekbone, my skin breaking out in goose bumps.

I couldn’t answer a question I didn’t have a real answer to. “Don’t smile at me. Now is not the right time. I don’t want to lose my count,” I said instead, and he chuckled.

He actually chuckled—a low, deep, manly chuckle that caused a slow shiver to run up my spine when coupled with his touch.

“You look awful,” he said in a low voice, eyes boring into mine.

I repeated the same answer I had given him the first time he had paid me that specific compliment. “Thank you for noticing. As you know, I always try my best.”

With his left hand, he brushed my hair back again and pushed it behind my ear. When he lowered his head and pressed a kiss on my forehead over my bangs, I stilled. “Okay, Rose,” he murmured. “Okay.”

As I was still trying to process the aftermath of the low and deep sound of that chuckle and then the kiss, my eyes slowly widened as he leaned down farther and pressed a soft kiss on my tear-wet lips. My eyes closed on their own and my lips parted—partly in shock, partly because the response was automatic. He didn’t kiss me like he had the night before, didn’t leave me feeling hungry for more, but as soon as he had the opportunity, he molded our lips together and kissed me longer, gentle and soft. I tilted my head up, my heart hammering in my chest, and returned his slow kiss. As we kept going and the kiss became more than just gentle, bit by bit, I started to rise up on my toes to deepen it.

My hands found his wrists again because I needed to feel anchored to something—that something being him, specifically. When I felt him pull away, I reluctantly pried my hands off. Biting down on my lips, I swallowed down a protest and, with a little trouble, managed to flutter my eyes open.

“Is someone watching?” The question was nothing more than a whisper falling from my lips.

Eyes intently on mine, he shook his head.

I swallowed, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer to the question I was about to ask. “Then why—”

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“What?” I asked, frowning up at him, the fog his kiss had caused slowly dissipating. I was having just a little trouble following, that was all.

“You never answered my text.”

His… Oh.

“We got busy and then I…Jack, I don’t think I’d be good company tonight. Is it an important dinner?”

“It’d be just the two of us.”

“It’s not a…work dinner?”

“No.”

“Then I’d rather get some takeout as usual or actually cook something at your apartment as a thank you for dealing with me.”

“Our apartment. Stop calling it mine. And I’d like to take you out, Rose. We’ve done takeout enough. If you’re not feeling up to it tonight, tomorrow then?”

My brows drew together as I tried to understand what he was saying. “You…uh, you don’t mean as in a date, right?” I laughed nervously, searching pretty hard for an answer in his eyes and maybe hoping he said he did mean it that way.

He gave me his fifth smile and I got distracted.

“It can be called a date. It’s dinner. You can use any words you like.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what to say or what to think. Frozen in place, I just kept staring up at him. “I mean…” I mumbled, taking a step back. “Like a real-life date?”

He looked at me for a long beat, and I realized the smile on his face had disappeared. His expression was back to being unreadable. “If I read things wrong and you’re not interested…”

“No. No. No.” I was. I really, really was. “I just… Do you think that would be a good idea?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Who cares whether it’s a good idea or not?” That was not an answer I expected to hear from a guy like Jack. “It’s dinner, Rose. Say yes. Takeout or a restaurant, nothing much changes. We can just try, and if you think—”

“Okay,” I blurted out before he could say more.

“Okay?”

I gave him a nod. “Yeah. Yes. Okay.”

He opened his mouth, but my nose had had enough of a break. I instantly tilted my head back, eyes on the ceiling, and my hand latched onto his arm. “Jack—Jack! It’s coming again. Kleenex!”

In less than three seconds, I had another one in my hands.

“Thank you.”

“Come on. I’m taking you home.”

“What? No. I need to go back to work and forget about all of this until tomorrow.”

He gave me a sharp look, which I could only see out of the corner of my eye as I kept my head tilted up.

“I mean the leak, not…not everything else.”

His gaze only softened a fraction. “Let me take you home, Rose.”

As sweet as that sounded, I couldn’t just sit at the apartment by myself with nothing to do. “I can’t. I need to work, Jack. I can’t sit around and obsess about what the doctor will say tomorrow.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Then I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to drop me off. I’ll take a cab—an Uber. It’ll be fine.”

Ignoring me, he walked over to his desk, closed the lid of his laptop, and picked up his phone. As I watched him, he made his way back to me and, to my surprise and delight, reached for my hand. I had to tighten my fingers around his to keep up with his strides before we stopped in front of Cynthia’s desk.

“I’m heading out. I’ll still take calls, but I won’t be here for the four PM client. Let’s try to reschedule that, or if he can, have him meet me at Around the Corner. You know the address. I’ll be going with Rose to the ENT specialist at eleven tomorrow morning, so try to get in touch with Fred and have him take care of whatever we have going on. Better yet, I’ll call you when I’m at the shop and we’ll reschedule things.”

Cynthia’s eyes moved from me to Jack and back again and then to our joined hands.

“Everything okay?”

He glanced down at me. “Yes. Everything is good now.”

Everything did feel good. Apart from my nose.

While we were standing at the very back of the elevator, heading down to the lobby with five other people, he called Ray to tell him to bring the car to the front of the building. When he pocketed his phone, I couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Leaning against him, I tried to be as quiet as I possibly could and asked, “Jack?”

His hand gave mine a squeeze, which was his version of I’m listening, I supposed. My heart rate picking up, I whispered, “That just happened, right? You want to…you want us to date? As in be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He gave me a long look. “More like husband and wife, don’t you think?”