Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Twelve

Hazel

Everyone wants their own little place in the world. Maybe mine is here, loving you. —Ranata Suzuki

I openmy eyes when I hear the knock on my door.

“Haze?” Fitz shouts.

I yawn, rub my eyes, and rise from the couch, moving sluggishly toward the door.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah?” I say, trying to collect my thoughts.

“You were napping?” He tilts his head, studying me.

“I guess,” I say, covering my mouth while I yawn. “After we visited the house in Santa Cruz, Scott dropped me here, and …”

Scratching my head, I scan the apartment. My phone and my computer are on the floor next to the couch. I spent some time checking the homes Scott emailed me and checked my work email. I don’t remember setting my things down or falling asleep.

“Scott isn’t back with the food yet,” I conclude as I sit.

“How’s the house?” He takes a seat on the couch.

“Well…” I turn around to look at him. “In deplorable condition, and … Elliot was there. It was intense.”

I don’t disclose more because I’m still discerning my feelings. Seeing the old house ripped one of the Band-Aids from my heart, making it bleed. The ground underneath me shook by the proximity of Elliot—and Scott.

“Can we discuss the lying asshole?”

“No,” I respond, walking toward my buzzing phone.

Kyle: Are you giving us the contract?

“Ugh,” I groan.

Hazel: It’s not solely my decision. But you owe me an apology. You sent Elliot to do the presentation without warning me about it first.

Kyle: It had to be done. You would’ve avoided him and lost the chance to work with the best contractor in the Bay Area. Plus, you two need to fix your shit.

Hazel: That wasn’t your decision. I want to see you, but I might yell at you before we can hug.

Kyle: Are you really selling your parents’ house?

I groan. Elliot and Kyle are too tight for their own good. It makes me wonder about the many things I’ve confided in him. Has he told any of what I shared with Elliot? I pause, reminding myself that our relationship has nothing to do with their friendship.

Hazel: Are you coming to help me unpack?

Kyle: Not this week, we have gigs every night.

Hazel: What kind of gig?

Kyle: Work.

Hazel: Like shooting your next porn movie?

Kyle: Something like that, but less frugal.

Hazel: Frugal has nothing to do with porn. Why are you still stripping?

Kyle: You don’t know, my puritanical friend. Maybe I wanted to use the word of the day on my calendar.

Kyle: I still strip. Just to piss off my family. It works like a charm.

Hazel: When can I see you?

Kyle: This week is impossible. I’ll see you soon, though. I can’t wait to hug you.

There’s a knock on the door. Fitz and I look at each other. He nods once, then marches to open it. Scott enters, holding a box and several canvas bags.

Hazel: Talk to you soon, xo

“What is all that?” I watch him intently as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Food, Hazel. At least what you call your staple food.”

“Wine?”

“You said you wouldn’t be drinking for the next couple of weeks,” he reminds me as he sets the box on top of the counter. “I brought Gong Bao Chicken for you, dumplings to share, and combination fried rice. Did I miss anything?”

“What about me? I’m starving.” Fitz enters the kitchen and looks inside the box. Then picks a small takeout box. “Pork with black bean sauce. This makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Scott still loves me.”

“Shut up. Did you finish reviewing the contracts I sent you?” Scott hands me some produce.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Scott. It’s been years since you had to ask me if I had done my homework.”

“Fitzhenry?”

Fitz shakes his head. “No, I have one of my minions taking care of them. He’ll get back to you tomorrow.” He sighs. “Babe, I’d love to spend quality time with you.”

He glares at Scott. “But I’d rather go to the hotel.”

He kisses me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow morning.”

“Bye, Fitzy.”

“Sometimes you’re a big asshole with your brother,” I chide Scott.

Scott grins. “I’m not. I just wanted some alone time with you. If I’d asked him, he would’ve said no. But if I mention work during his off hours, he disappears.”

“Ugh!” I roll my eyes and open the fridge, taking the produce bags from Scott and setting them inside the drawers. “You two are ridiculous.”

“You bought reusable bags,” I play with the ties, fascinated by them.

“That seemed better than having everything shoved into one bag and chase each thing afterward,” he responds, exhales, and speaks. “Have you checked the houses that I sent you?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” I reply, glad he didn’t ask before today. “They’re all expensive, but I know you can afford them. Now, the one by the marina is beautiful and has six bedrooms, but there’s no patio for your dog.”

I stop, go to the dining table where I left my phone, and walk back to the kitchen. I tap my password and pull up the website of the animal shelter. “There’s an eight-month-old Golden Retriever...”

“You’re searching for dogs?” His brows pull together. He leans closer to see the picture I have on my screen.

“We can meet her tomorrow.” I smile, putting my phone away.

“She’ll be a big girl. If that’s the case, you have to check on the other ones. The one in Pacific Heights with fifteen bedrooms is a little too much for you. But if you want a big family, that’s a good place to grow. My favorite is the one with seven bedrooms. Not too big, not too small.”

His expression is blank, and I hate this guarded man.

“Favorite house?” He pulls out his own phone. “Why that one?”

“It has a library,” I say in awe. “And it’s on Scott Street.”

“You like that one?” His eyebrow arches. “I guess it is a good option. Expensive but I liked the patio too. It beats Hunter’s brownstone.”

I chuckle because even though they are seven years apart, sometimes he and his youngest brother like to compete. Well, the four brothers are close, but they have that rivalry only siblings can share.

“We can see it tomorrow if you want to,” I offer. “After meeting the pup.”

He pulls a takeout carton out of the box and hands it over with a pair of chopsticks. His eyes don’t leave mine, and he smiles, shaking his head. “You sure about that?”

“This is what I do, Scott. Research, plan, and look forward to a new project. It helped me a lot after we visited the old house.”

“Are you okay?” He uses a cautious tone.

“Yeah.” I sigh, tired of answering that same question repeatedly. I’m fine, things are moving along…I think.

“I feel like you’re not telling me something.” His voice is tender, almost post-orgasm sweet. “Why am I having trouble understanding you?”

I hold my breath, staring at him.

There might be a thing or two, but I won’t discuss Elliot or the plethora of emotions running through my veins with you.

Scott’s arm extends, and his index finger caresses my cheek. I lean against it, closing my eyes and feeling my mind quiet down for a few seconds. Everything and everyone around us disappears. It’s only the two of us as his magical touch erases my worries. I know that when he’s around, I can stop worrying that everything must be perfect. He doesn’t care if I’m a little distracted. He knows that if I don’t write something on my list, I’ll forget it. So, he sets reminders because he knows how much I hate overlooking things. He’s aware that not pleasing people makes me anxious. I can be myself with him.

“I am having trouble understanding you too,” I say, opening my eyes.

I find myself a little short of breath when I notice his face is so close to mine. He stares at me. Those magnetic eyes concentrate on my face. He takes me into his arms. My entire body quiets down as I rest my head on his chest. But I shake my head, remembering that this isn’t where I belong. I wanted to be a part of him, but he doesn’t want me in that way.

“The unknown makes me feel vulnerable. It’s hard to deal with it and then…”

I want to tell him what his presence provokes not only to my body but my head. It’s a combination of lust and the desire of having something real with him.

“Be patient,” he says. “You’ll find whatever you’re looking for that will help you fight the depression you’re carrying with you.”

“Maybe it’s somewhere in that house. Somewhere in the world, there should be the answer to my eternal question. Where do I belong?” I say. “I feel five and lost, waiting for someone to choose me. When I’m almost thirty, and I shouldn’t care.”

Scott’s eyes grow dark. He grabs me by the back of my head, pulling me to him and crushing his mouth against mine. The kiss is hard, desperate, and fast.

He releases me, and as he recovers his breath, he says, “This time you get to choose where you belong, and I pray to God that you choose me. Because there’s something I should’ve told you years ago, Hazel Beesley.”

He stares at me. His Adam’s apple moves slowly. “I belong to you.”

My heart melts with his words, the kiss. But my mind spins out of control. What does he mean?

I belong to you.

I’m speechless.

I’m breathless.

I’m confused.

His eyes bore into mine. “I think you are here for a soul-searching journey,” he pauses. His jaw twitches. “Or to find what you once lost. I’m here because I know you need me—and I need you like I need oxygen, water, or my next breath. I won’t leave you unless you ask me to leave.”

The uneasiness in my stomach increases. I suck on my lip, staring at Scott. Soaking on those words, I’m even more confused than I was before.

“So where does this leave us?” I frown. “Should I trust you blindly with my heart and wait to see what happens next?”

“No, I don’t want you to be with me because I’m saying the right words, but because you know we belong together.”

I gasp, touching my burning lips. Why give me that kiss and stir the gamut of feelings when he’s never going to say yes? Yes, let’s be more—everything.

“We can’t be more until you figure out what you want.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “Who you want.”

“I don’t understand. Why now?”

“Before I was afraid that if I handed you my heart, you’d shred it, and we’d lose what we have.”

He lets out a long breath. “Yet I lost you,” he whispers, flinching with pain.

“You said we couldn’t be more. I wanted more,” I say bluntly.

“Well, I can’t offer more when there’s too much going on inside your head. You’re still waiting for him.”

I open my mouth and close it because I have nothing to say.

“You want time, and I plan on giving it to you,” he says, and I can tell that he means it by the roughness and desperation in his voice.

“I need to go for a ride,” Scott announces, nodding lightly and leaving me standing in the middle of the kitchen more confused than I was before.