Now Or Never by Stella Rhys
41
HOLLAND
“Let me guess—the cute barista from the place across the street?” Freya said to me first thing Monday morning when I got into the office. “The one with the lips? I mean his ears are kind of big but still. A solid cutie.”
I snorted at her. “Come again?”
She grinned as she walked alongside me past reception and into the hall. “There’s a new boy in your life. I can feel it.”
“That’s an interesting theory, considering I’ve only been here for twelve days and I have yet to say more than grazie to anyone who doesn’t work in this office,” I laughed.
“Well, that’s what makes this situation even more curious, love,” she said, her eyes narrowed playfully at me before she turned left to go to the directors meeting in the conference room, leaving me to cock my head to myself and wonder what the heck she was talking about.
But I figured it out shortly, because before I even reached my desk, I could see something unfamiliar on it.
A manila envelope.
Coffee in hand, I slowed my step, feeling my heart beat a notch faster for some reason.
But I forced it back down as I picked my stride up again, trying to look normal so that none of my new coworkers would feel the need to so much as glance in my direction.
Because for some reason, that manila envelope—despite being a perfectly normal object in this office—was sending a little prickle up my spine. Making my cheeks feel warm.
You are being very weird,I told myself as I quickly sat at my desk, grabbed the thing and opened it up, eager to prove to myself that I was on edge for no reason at all. It’s just a new hire packet. A welcome to the company, I predicted, remembering that I still hadn’t gotten mine yet.
But when I reached inside, it wasn’t a packet. It was multiple pieces of paper. Of all textures and sizes.
What on earth?
Reaching in, I took out the first piece I felt—a light blue Post-It note with white patterns at the edges.
Just like the ones I had on my desk at home in New York.
My heart thumped as I stared at the words written on it in neat handwriting that wasn’t mine.
- She came home safe
-What she said before going to bed
My heart stopped.
It was Iain’s handwriting.
I hadn’t seen it much and I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I did. Wait. What is this?
Frantic, I poured out the contents of the envelope onto my desk, grabbing and unfolding a sheet of lined yellow paper from a memo pad.
And now I understood, because I remembered seeing this very paper on his desk the night I surprised him during his late night at the office.
- Rescued me from the depths of hell with a hand massage.
- Survived the call despite the fact that she just blew my fucking mind
My hand covered my mouth as I laughed, shaking my head, emotion swelling in my chest. My eyes were bright, unblinking, my heart tripping over itself as I went hastily through all the messages scrawled on what seemed like whatever Iain had closest at the time. The back of a data report. A sheet ripped from his planner. I was laughing out loud by the time I found a loose cocktail napkin.
- Adam. Best brother I could ask for.
- I’ll never forget that jump. Watching her jump in after me.
- I’m never going to get through this massive jug of maple syrup but I like looking at it in the morning so it stays
“Oh my God.”
I was trying to muffle my laughter at this point, because some of my coworkers were stealing odd glances at me, but I really couldn’t give it that much thought, especially as I realized that Iain had started these the very night I told him about my gratitude journal in my bedroom. Mere hours after I suggested he try it. I had said it so in passing, because I didn’t think I’d ever convince him of my ways at that point. But apparently I had.
Apparently, he’d been writing these for weeks now. They started short. Just a few words at a time. But over the weeks, the thoughts grew longer. More detailed, because he was buying in.
There was even one whole sheet from the weeks after the fight. After all the media drama.
- Grateful for Drew’s crazy ass
- Grateful for the comfort of my home
- The way she runs straight into my arms after coming home from work
- Every morning I’m struck by how fucking beautiful she is.
I could feel the tears coming and my heart wanting to burst. I couldn’t even read the rest of the notes before I reached for my phone to call Iain. But just as I told myself it was 3AM in New York, I realized there was no postage on the envelope.
Frenzied, I turned it around, inspecting it from all sides and looking for any indication of how it had gotten to this office. To my desk. I spent another twenty seconds wondering before I grabbed my phone again, heart pounding as I texted Iain what felt like crazy talk.
ME: Are you here?
The reply didn’t come immediately and I spent the next twelve minutes so riled up that I was sure I wouldn’t survive waiting, wondering for another second, so I attempted to put my own nerves at rest by making an executive decision and sending another quick text.
ME: Never mind don’t answer that.
ME: If you’re here I’ll be at the museum on Via Tortona at 12:15. Meet me there.
* * *
The Museo delleCulture on Via Tortona was the only place I’d visited in Milan so far. It was a bunch of boxy, ultra-modern buildings centered in a large courtyard, and I actually had no idea why I told Iain to meet me there, because I didn’t know the place well enough to name a specific spot to find me, and it was probably going to take forever, assuming he’d even gotten my message.
“Crap,” I hissed to myself, skipping the elevators and looking at the time on my phone as I flew down the stairs. Five past noon.
Whatever. Just go. That’s all you can do,I told myself as I crossed the lobby of the building, flashing a polite albeit rushed smile at the security guard before pushing hastily through the front doors.
And then stopping right in my tracks.
My heart leapt right into my throat and all the air left my lungs as I stared through the busy stream of morning commuters walking by.
Because standing past them on the other end of the sidewalk was Iain.
Hands in the pockets of his jeans. Wearing the hell out of a white T-shirt and a grin that spread slowly wider as he watched my bright-eyed shock turn into a breathless, open-mouthed smile.
I wanted to run to him, but I had to wait for everyone to pass.
Just as well.
It gave me time to drink him in again. To run my awed eyes all over him for the first time in what was as good as forever. He looked so overwhelmingly beautiful to me that I wondered if my legs would even work. My knees felt weak, but the adrenaline coursing through me helped bring me forward, across the sidewalk till I was standing close enough to touch him.
And I did.
I needed to. Just to make sure he was real.
He looked down, watching me as I confirmed it, and when I looked up again, his eyes were glimmering like stars at me.
“You found me,” I murmured.
“I tend to,” he smiled.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t know for sure that you were,” he admitted with amusement. “But you planned your last escape for years, and I knew you were too smart to leave without having somewhere perfectly secure to go.”
I raised my eyebrows, realizing he made the Freya connection. “Very true. Good read,” I nodded, making him laugh. “Speaking of good reads, I got your gratitude journal,” I smirked. “You know, I would’ve been happy to give you one of my notebooks if you’d just asked.”
“Good to know. I think I’ll take you up on that once I get you home.”
I was still smiling, but my heart jolted at the mention of home. It had me remembering the reason I’d left in the first place.
And it made me realize I didn’t even know if things had gotten worse.
“Iain… I haven’t even been reading the news lately.”
“Nor should you,” he said firmly, pulling me closer and looking at me with a sudden heat in his eyes. “Nothing about it makes a difference to me. It hasn’t once for a second since it happened, and I don’t need anymore time to think in order to know that I want you, Holland. I want to keep seeing you come home to me after work. I want to be at your side for all your new firsts. I know what it’s like to wake up next to you every morning now, and I can’t give that up. You were made to be mine, Holland. And I was always made to be yours.”
He was gently gripping my top now, holding me closer by two loose handfuls of cotton. I could feel all his energy as he stared into my eyes. All his passion and need, and it made my voice come out choked as I asked, “How do you know for sure?”
“Because even the first time I left you was hard,” he answered fast. “You wouldn’t know that, and I wouldn’t tell anyone, because I was never supposed to care that much. But I did, because you’ve always been different for me, Holland. You’ve always been the person who brought out the best in me. The human side of me. That first night I saw you again… I knew from the first second I laid eyes on you that I was fucked, and it had nothing to do with the fact that you’d grown up. And it had nothing to do with how good you looked. That was what made my night a living hell, but what fucked me completely was the fact that you were here again, right in front of me me, because I’ve always been wired to care about you. You were always mine to protect. And the only thing that helped me ignore you after I left was the fact that I’d convinced himself I would hurt you too. But I know now I’ll never do anything to hurt you. Ever. And I’m never going to become that Iain again, because I dug it all up already. I unearthed everything I had buried. I’m a stronger man now because of you, and even if I lose the agency, the job, I won’t care. Because it’s not what I need most in my life.”
“What do you need then?” I asked, making him flash that sexy smirk.
“You know the answer to that.”
My lips turned up with his. “So what are you asking me, Iain?”
“To come home,” he said straightaway, pulling at more heartstrings than I knew I had. “New York is where you belong, Holland. Where you’re supposed to be.”
“No.” I shook my head, taking a moment to gaze up at that beautiful frown of his. “You’re where I’m supposed to be,” I said. “You’ve always been. When I was younger, my house was only a home when you were there. New York was only what it was because of you. And now that you’re in Milan I could live here forever if you said you wanted to,” I laughed. “You’re my favorite place, Iain. Of anywhere in the world. You’ve always been.”
I was breathless all over again when Iain’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. He had his arm circled around my waist now, his free hand pushing my hair back so he could gaze all the way into me.
“Does that mean you’ll come?” he asked. “For the record, that means New York. For now.”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Say it out loud,” he said.
So I obliged.
“I’ll go anywhere with you.”
