Page 219 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

I chuckle. “I know, but maybe she’ll take pity on me.”

“For you, I hope she does. I hear you’re flying in. Want me to pick you up at the airport again?” His laughter builds. “I’m giving you warning that I’ll be in the car.”

“I think I’m good.”

“I know,you’re fine.”

“Actually, I’m great.”

In fact, it’s as if the stars aligned tonight.And I finally saw them with clarity.

36

Drew

“Morning,Mr. Christiansen. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, Pete. It’s good to be home.” I’m not surprised to see Pete since it’s the day shift, but I was hoping to run into Gil for some advice. After all, he knows Juni best.

I drag my suitcase into the elevator. Tired and running on autopilot, I reach for the button for the seventeenth floor but stop myself. I’m on a mission, so I punch sixteen instead.

My knuckles hurt from knocking on her door for so long. I don’t know if she’s purposely not answering or if she’s not home, but I’m too anxious to sit here and wait for who knows how long. Looking down the hall, I haven’t heard the little yappy dog, but I do get an idea. I drag my suitcase and knock on Mr. Clark’s door.

When he doesn’t answer either, I head upstairs to drop off my luggage and then catch the elevator back to the lobby. “Pete, why’s it so quiet on a Sunday. I’ve ridden the elevator three times, and it never made another stop. Maybe it’s my lucky day?” I’d like to think so, but I can’t confirm until I speak with Juni.

“A lot of the residents and Gil are at the funeral.”

I rush to the desk. “What funeral? Whose?”

“Mr. Clark. He passed away last week. He was walking Rascal down at the park and had a heart attack on his way back, just outside the building. Gil saw it all and tried to help, but . . .” His gaze lowers as he shakes his head. “Man,” he starts again, his eyes watering. “I know he was old, but I don’t know. You get used to having people around. Know what I mean?”

Juni.“I know what you mean. That’s too bad about Mr. Clark. I didn’t know him well, only met him once, but I know he had a lot of close friends in the building.” Shit. Juni was close to him. She loved that old man. And given his comments about Juni, he’d adored her, too. Another person in her life who left her. His words have bounced around my brain the whole time I’ve been away.

“Stop wasting your damn life on things that aren’t worth retelling, or waiting for the perfect moment . . . If you love her, tell her. I promise the only regret you’ll have is the time you wasted without her.”

Did destiny plant him in my life at just the right moment, too? And I’d still missed the point?But not the pun about destiny and the plant. Seriously, Christiansen, your humor is so whack sometimes.

I need to be with Juni. I need her to know that I’m not leaving her—abandoning her.

It’s time to start writing a story worth telling.Our story.

“What time is the funeral?”

Checking his watch, he replies, “Starts in fifteen minutes.”

I look at the door as if that can help me. “Where is it?”

“If you’d like to attend, here’s a flyer Juni put together—” I snatch it from his hands.

“Thanks, Pete.”

“Give my condolences.”

I push through the door and run to the curb to flag down a taxi. As soon as one pulls over, I hop in the back, and say, “To this address. Hurry.”

I’m a fucking asshole for not checking in on Juni this past week. I thought I read the sign for time correctly, but maybe following destiny is harder than I thought. Or maybe she’s in a bad mood because we hit every red light in the city and an accident involving a honey truck that tipped over.

The cabbie looks at me in the rearview mirror, and asks, “You from around here?”

---