Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Nine

Hazel

It’s through falling down that we learn to stand up again. — Heather Stillfusen

“I can’t move,”I complain as we walk toward my apartment.

“You’re flaking on me, little Hazel.” Fitz’s voice is shallow.

He’s just as tired as I am. We stretched before five-thirty and made our way to the park five minutes later. It’s almost seven in the morning. Every muscle in my legs shakes after pushing myself for this long. This wasn’t a smart idea. I barely slept last night, and my breakfast consisted of a protein milkshake.

“We should have something to eat before heading to the office,” I declare as I search for my keys. “Can you carry me to my apartment?”

“You should carry me,” he jokes and takes my hand. “I’ll pull you all the way up, but that’s the best I can do for you. I’m taking the day off—perhaps the entire week.”

We hit the third floor, which is where I am supposed to be living. At least it was until today. I plan to do some research about the building and find an apartment on the first floor. These are too many steps to take at the same time—every single day.

“Good morning.”

Looking over my shoulder, I find Scott following my steps and holding a large paper cup with a plastic lid.

Please be my coffee.

He’s wearing my favorite oxford gray suit. His shirt is open showing a few lines of his ink, and his tie is inside his jacket. Willow swears he’s a bad boy who acts like a CEO during the day just because of his ink. She doesn’t know him as well as I do. Most of his tattoos are to honor his parents: his mother’s favorite quotes and his father’s favorite landscapes. I used to trace them with my finger during the afterglow.

Those are the little moments I miss the most. I want to step closer to him and bury my nose in the crook of his neck so I can breathe in the aroma of his aftershave. The masculine tones provoke a sense of calm, yet make me want to rip his clothes off and beg him to make love to me. I imagine unbuttoning his shirt while tracing the lines of his tattoos with my tongue. Unbuckling his belt, dropping his pants, and falling on my knees. My mouth parts, and I drop my gaze because reality hits me right in the chest.

Squaring my shoulders, I remain calm and poised. I promised myself to stop fantasizing about him or men like him. The kind who don’t want a family or share my dreams. It is written right on the list I made last night while I chased sleep. The task kept me away from sad thoughts and focused on my future. If I can just ensure that I keep up with what I wrote.

I divert my attention from his neck to the cup I hope belongs to me.

“Please, tell me you have an almond mocha latte in your hands and that it’s for me.”

The corner of his lip lifts slightly, his eyes smile at me.

“Maybe.” He stops right in front of me and hands me a canteen. “But you need to hydrate first. You’ve been out running for too long.”

“How do you know?”

He tilts his head toward his brother. “We’re sharing a suite. I saw him leaving, and he texted me when you were on your way back,” he responds, opening the door for me while I gulp the water.

“Are you going back to the hotel, Fitz?” he asks.

Fitz nods. “Do you need something?”

“I left a few contracts on top of the coffee table. I want you to go through them.”

“Dude, I regret moving into your big-ass suite,” Fitz complains to his brother.

I turn to Scott. “What are your plans for today?”

“After your shower, we can go for breakfast and discuss today’s schedule.”

I scrunch my nose and stare at him. Exchanging the glass bottle with the coffee, I drink half of it before responding. The questions that come to mind have nothing to do with what he just inquired. Things like, can I fix that tie? The deal is we pretend to be someone different while we aren’t in New York, can we do that here? Why are you here?

I open my mouth and ask, “Today’s plans?” I have nothing compelling or smart to say.

“Isn’t that what we always do?”

“You fired me,” I remind him.

“No, I never fired you.”

I pull out my phone from the pocket of my sports bra and start searching for his email.

“Please, make sure you complete the following tasks before you leave. Scott.” I glare at him. “Which was a pretty shitty way to say you’re no longer part of this company.”

His head drops slightly, his chin almost hitting his chest. His face turns slightly red, and I hear him laughing.

“What did I say wrong?”

“If you open the attachment, it isn’t any different from any other documents I’ve sent you before you have to travel.”

“It’s the tone.”

“There’s no tone. It is an email. What were you expecting from me?”

I let out a breath, looking for one of his usual emails.

To: Bee

From: SDE

Subject: List

My tasty Buttercup,

I’m attaching the list of tasks you have to finish before our trip. The second attachment is our itinerary for our trip.

Scott

Instead of readingit out loud because Fitz is here, I hand him the phone. There’s nothing dirty about it. It’s the fact he calls me buttercup after his favorite snack. The implication he’s ready to eat me and that I’m his.

I walk toward my room. “I’m going to get ready.”

“You will catch a cold,”Scott insists as I lock the door.

“It’s sixty degrees outside,” I remind him as I glance at my sundress and the black high-heel sandals I’m wearing. “Warm compared to the minus freezing degrees in New York.”

Outside, the breeze is slightly chilly. Nothing compared to the cold weather the East Coast faces during the winter. I can wear my fall or spring clothing and carry a light jacket with me. However, Scott is already making a big fuss about it.

“Should I remind you about last year’s pneumonia?”

“I caught a bug. It had nothing to do with the weather.” I chew on my lip, then turn to look at him and smile. “Are you worried I’ll get you sick again?”

I lick my lips. “I promise not to kiss you, even if you beg.”

“Is that a challenge?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

“What do you want for breakfast, Bee?”

I stare at his big hand like it’s the first time I’ve seen it. Then I look up to find his eyes. They’re soft, expectant. I realize that his tie remains in his pocket. I pull it out, extending it and placing it around his neck. Connecting our gazes, I continue my job by pulling up his collar the way I’ve done numerous times before. But this time is different. It’s like he’s not hiding from me.

“Whatever you choose,” I answer as I adjust the knot.

“Thank you.” He reaches for my hand, but I move it away.

“Things can’t be back to…” I drop my gaze, then lift it again.

“I understand, Hazel. We didn’t handle things well. This time, everything will be different.”

“Different?” I squint, moving away from him. “You keep saying that word, but what does that even mean?”

“Wait and see,” he says, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles.

“Scott…” I say his name, but the words after that escape me.

What do I want to tell him?

Leave. Stay with me. Kiss me. I’m still hurting from your rejection. I can’t take more. Hold me, and never let me go.

He nods once. “Let this be your challenge,” he suggests. “The unexpected journey we’re taking in this new city that might take us to …” He shrugs.

“Our future…” He doesn’t finish before we begin our walk.

Sunny-Side-Up is just around the corner from my apartment. It’s right next to the dry cleaners and across the street from a nail salon. It doesn’t look sunny from the outside, but gray and gloomy. But once we enter the place, the air is thick with the aroma of coffee, vanilla, and bacon. The walls are bright with yellow tones and a warm atmosphere. I want to stay. My stomach rumbles, seconding the motion. We look around at the busy tables, trying to find an empty spot. Unfortunately, this place is full. This is not the kind of place you visit out of impulse on a weekday.

“To go?”

“It might be best if we order something to be delivered to the office and we eat there,” I suggest.

He nods, releasing my hand and handing me his phone. We make our way back to the building as I search through his food-delivery app for something that will appetize us.

“What should we have? I propose pancakes and bacon.” I scroll through the restaurants in the area until I find one close to the office.

“We have to buy groceries,” he retorts.

I frown because tomorrow there’ll be fresh produce in my fridge. “You’ll cook for me?”

“Always.” He kisses my cheek and opens the passenger door of his sleek rental car for me. “Order me bacon, pancakes, and coffee.”

We have this couple-like dynamic, but my heart hurts because we’ve never been a couple. And I hate myself for loving it. For falling into the old pattern.

“Their proposal isdifferent from the other companies. I like that.”

I study the designs of the amenities that North Bay Construction proposes. “The mockups are great.”

Scott rises from his seat, walks around the table, and stands right next to me.

“Let me see,” he says, rolling up his sleeves, revealing the geometrical lines of his delicious tattoo, and pressing his palms on the table.

The music playing in the background and his bare skin are bringing up memories. I stare at his corded, strong arms. I want to take his rough hand and entwine my fingers with his calloused ones. Better yet, I want to put them around me and soak on his scent while we dance.

“Their drawings are pretty good. I’ll give them that,” he agrees with me, dragging me away from my daydreams.

Scott loosens his tie, and I restrain myself because my lips want to reach for the sensitive skin behind his ear and run my mouth down his neck.

“Their prices are competitive, but they are a small company,” he says, moving his gaze from the computer to me.

Our gazes meet, his eyes boring into mine, and then they trace over my face, stopping at my mouth. His lip is between his teeth. I want to know what is on his mind. Does he remember the first time we met? Or the years we’ve been sharing an office while working together, like today.

“They don’t have many references,” Scott claims, pushing himself away from the table and walking around the room.

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” I study the pool they proposed for the building where I live. “I’d love to have a pool close by.”

He stops right beside me and stares down at me. “Do you want a house with a swimming pool?”

I crank my neck and shake my head. “You keep bringing up houses and—”

His phone rings. He pulls it out, and I close my mouth when I see Harrison’s name flashing on the screen. Scott slides his finger to answer and taps the speaker button. He sets it on top of the desk.

“Yeah?”

“Are you with the kid?” Harrison asks.

“Don’t call me a kid,” I protest.

“There she is.” He laughs. “I need one of you to release some money from the trust fund.”

Scott groans and stares at me with a pleading gaze. He wants me to handle this call. Harrison and I get along better when it comes to numbers than the two brothers.

“Your trust fund?” I frown because he barely touches that money. “Or the foundation’s?”

“The foundation’s,” he replies.

Harrison, Scott, and I run a foundation that helps people with low incomes start a business, supports a youth center, and gives grants to any charity that applies to it. To use the money, we need the approval of at least two of us.

“Luna and I are buying some stuff for our next mission. She has this new idea of doing some charity work while saving the world.”

“Of course, she does.” I smile at the phone, thinking about Luna’s new plans on how to give back even more. Once she’s back from her mission, we have to sit down and discuss this new idea of hers. “Send it to my email for my approval.”

“So…” He clears his throat. “Are you done with that soul-searching mission?”

“What are you talking about, Harry?”

“I’m still hoping that this move is just a phase, and you’ll come home soon.”

“Don’t you have someone to save?” I stare at the phone, ignoring his question.

“We’re going to need to set up a security system in the Waterfront properties.” Scott diverts the conversation. “Can you have your guys call me, Harrison?”

“You got it, Scott,” he replies. “Call me tonight. I want to run a few things by you before going off-the-grid.”

My heart sinks, knowing Luna and Harrison are going off-the-grid. He owns a high-intelligence security company. He and his wife dedicate their time to fight human trafficking. And sometimes, they have to go into dangerous places and be out of reach from their family and friends. They’re good at what they do, but every time they are off-the-grid, Harry leaves a new will and instructions in case he doesn’t come home.

Scott swallows. “I’ll text you.”

“Bye, Harry.” My voice deflates when Scott ends the call.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I ask casually, but my stomach drops, thinking about the worst.

“You should be used to this,” he replies, reaching for my hand and squeezing it.

That simple gesture calms my nerves. “I am, but I kind of like him better when he’s alive.”

“It’s almost five,” Scott announces, ignoring my poor joke. “Why don’t we continue this later?”

He releases my hand. “We’ve been working all day. I propose we go for a walk before we have dinner.”