Page 45 of The Refusal

“I need to warn you about my parents,” I start with a wince. “I tried to get them out of the apartment but …”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Um, they wanted to meet you?” My tone rises at the puzzled crease between her eyebrows. “I told them I had a friend coming over to write software, but I didn’t tell them that you’re a … you’re a …” I wave my hand as my words trip over themselves.

She frowns at me in confusion as I spit out “girl” at her.

“Is that a problem?”

Oh, God.

I groan and run my hands over my face, stomach sinking; any minute the heat building in my neck will be all too obvious. Why did I ask her over? Oh, yeah, because she’s wonderful and I want to spend time with her.

I clear my throat. “My parents, like a lot of parents I guess, are keen to see me settle down and I’ve never introduced a woman to them. The fact that you’ve come over to code with me?” I shake my head, color creeping up my cheeks. “All bets are off. I have no idea what they’ll even say to you, but it’ll be mortifying for me, have no doubt about that.”

Jo’s expression completely changes as I say this. Her eyes dance with amusement, and she shifts a little in front of me, almost bouncing.

“Oh, I’m so looking forward to this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do ‘embarrassed Janus’ before. How excruciating will it be? Will they quiz me on marriage and baby plans or give me some kind of test?”

I shake my head, laughing. She’s a nut.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“I love them already.”

I gesture toward the elevator distracted by wild thoughts of Jo standing next to me in a church, a small girl with tumbling red hair. My throat locks up. Where are these thoughts coming from? But as I’m standing next to Jo somehow none of it sounds off-putting at all. I turn toward her, reaching out to press the button.

“I’ve no idea what they’ll say, okay? They can be a bit crazy. They’re going out to explore New York today. I was hoping they’d have gone out by the time you got here.”

“Do they know about all your women?”

I frown at her, trying to work out what she means. “What women?”

She studies me patiently. “All these ladies you go on dates with?” she says, something rushing across her expression before it disappears. “The gossip mags? I’m just scoping out what they might say to me, or even assume about me.” She mutters this last bit under her breath as if it has just occurred to her. “Oh God, they’ll be expecting a supermodel.” She glances down at her clothes and makes a face.

Woah, woah, where did all that come from? But I’m distracted by the heat rising up her cheeks in my favorite blush. Talking to her is like chasing a bolting horse. We’re on a different conversation from the one I thought we were having. I shake my head as we head into the elevator. “They won’t think anything like that. My mom might have seen one or two pictures of me taken by the paparazzi, but they live in the suburbs in Madison, Wisconsin, and I don’t think either of them reads any kind of celebrity news”—I wave my hand—“Not that I’m saying I’m a celebrity or anything.” Could I sound any more up my own ass? “My mom did ask me once about a picture of me she’d seen in the paper, and I told her there were work things that I had to go to sometimes.”

I’m making it sound like people take pictures of me all the time, which is bullshit. Tension ripples across my shoulders. I can’t pull myself out of the thought that Jo has this perception of me that isn’t who I really am.

“Oh, okay.”

She stares at the elevator panel, and my stomach sinks lower with each floor that passes. I run my hand down my cheek. This was a bad idea and I have no clue how to put it right, and we’ve not even spent the day together yet. I stare glumly at my reflection in the doors and pray that the next thirty minutes will be over as quickly and painlessly as possible.

28

Jo

Janus is silent beside me as I fidget with the cuff of my sweater. Why did I ask him about his women as if it mattered? This is not that. I hitch my backpack farther up my shoulder. He said his parents might assume I’m going out with him. Will they think I’m some kind of gold digger? They’ve got to realize how wealthy he is, right? The thought is there before I can even sit on it. Ugh.

We head out of the elevator in silence, and his uncertain, apologetic smile as we reach his apartment door makes me melt inside. I think about my own dad and how he might react to meeting Janus: how he’d tell him about all the neighbors and his bowling. I grin and wink at him.

This makes him laugh. “Behave, you,” he says as he scans his card at the door.

I eye the sensor, another interest blooming immediately: There might be all sorts of state-of-the-art tech in this building. The idea is enough to pull me right out of my hot sweat, and as we step into the entrance, I draw in a sharp breath at what’s unfolding in front of me. The white marble floor expands into polished wood and the largest open-plan space I’ve seen in a New York apartment, wide windows stretching all down one wall, a skyline of skyscrapers beyond. As I turn to look at Janus, he gives me a cocky smile, his eyes roaming over my face.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Yes, it is,” he says, looking at me.

---