Page 42 of If It Can't Be Us

“My mum died when I was ten,” he says, his tone flat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She was a shit mum.”

His response shocks me, and I don’t feel it’s something I can press him on, so I answer his question about Paris.

“I’d love for you to come… to Paris. It’s much more fun to sightsee with a friend.”

“Can I plan it for you? Book the hotels and activities? Paris is incredible, and you’ve got to do it right.”

I laugh. “Yes, you can plan it. As long as I get to see the Eiffel Tower, eat chocolate croissants, and drink way too much coffee, then I’m good.”

We stay like this until the early hours of the morning, talking. At some point, I drift off to sleep and awaken to Leo nudging me around three in the morning.

“Shh. It’s just me, it’s getting cold, love. Let’s go inside, get you to bed, yeah?”

He turns off the space heater and helps me gather all of my stuff to take inside. We walk down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen, setting the wine glass in the sink and the almost empty bottle of wine on the counter. Leo folds the blanket, setting it on the couch, and places my books on the coffee table. The house is quiet and dimly lit, creating an intimate atmosphere as we move around each other in comfortable silence.

I walk behind him to the door, the only light being under the cabinets, illuminating just enough to lead us through the living room and to the foyer. He turns to face me as he opens the door.

“Hey, Viv?” he asks. I love the way my name sounds on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for letting me share this with you, for letting me in. I know that wasn’t easy for you.” He nudges my shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, Walker.” He grins mischievously, deepening those damn dimples and making me laugh.

Damn him.

Chapter 12

LEO

Wednesday, November 22

Three Weeks Later

I blocked out my schedule for my usual evening appointments, taking my last client at 4 PM. I told Vivian I’d pick up dinner for both of us. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, we wanted to take advantage of the holiday and enjoy a weekend evening in the middle of the week. Our plan is to devour Thai food, watch movies, and have a drink. Drinking is something we usually reserve for weekends, Vivian even less than I do. I’ve made it a rule for the past decade: unless it’s a holiday, or I’m on vacation, I only drink on weekends. It’s one of the things that makes us click even more.

At 5:15, I text her.

Leo:Hey, I’m on my way. Do you want to order the Thai? We can DoorDash it?

Vivian:I’m on it.

Leo:ETA 20 minutes. FYI—Booked our hotel for Paris today. You’re going to love it.

Vivian:Yesssss! Can’t wait for you to show it to me.

My office is close enough to walk. It’s cold, but not too cold for a ten-minute walk… yet. I pull my arms through my coat sleeves and head to the elevator.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind. Vivian and I were already spending a lot of time together, but since that night on the rooftop, we’ve stepped up our efforts, making sure to see each other for at least a few minutes every day, whenever possible. She has become the kind of friend you wonder how you ever lived without.

That’s the problem, though. We’ve become close. Really close. That night on the patio opened a door to physical exploration that I never should have touched. I’ve slept witha lotof beautiful women, but none compare to her. None have been nearly as cool, either. Every time I say goodbye to her, I ask myself what the hell I think I’m doing. I have no business spending this much time with her when I know what she’s seeking is something I don’t want. Period. I can’t seem to help myself. It’s selfish, I know. I’m feeding my ego every day, and it’s a dangerous road I’m heading down.

I walk home on autopilot, lost in my thoughts, the city noises blending into the background like the white noise machine we use in the clinic hallways. I arrive home, retracing my steps without recalling a single detail of the walk, except for the vague sense of being surrounded by people.

After changing out of my work clothes, I head to Vivian’s and let myself in. “Viv?” My voice echoes through the foyer.

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