Page 74 of Buttons

“Why are you here, Julian, really?”

He stares at me like it’s obvious. As if I’ve lost my mind. “Because I love you.”

“You never tried before. Our time together was all about business; even the kids took a backseat when it came to your priorities. I don’t understand why, all of a sudden, you’re putting in the effort, because looking back, I have to wonder if you even loved me back then. And if you didn’t love me back then, how can you love me now?”

“You remember the story Trey told about the pro-con list?”

I nod, hating the memory of that night.

“I think I knew back then. That I loved you, that is. Carmella and I were flirty, but I just couldn’t get you out of my head. I think the list was my way of trying to dissuade myself.”

“But why? Was I not good enough?”

“No! God, no. You were, and are, absolutely perfect. It’s hard to talk about back then, because it was college. I remember the first day I saw you. You walked in as my secretary, back before I made it big, and I remember being unable to breathe. I wantedto run my hands through your hair and stare at you all day. It was so inappropriate.” His cheeks actually turn a shade of pink. “I wanted to convince myself that Carmella made more sense. She wasn’t my employee. I’d known her for longer. Dating her was a sort of status symbol. Take your pick for the reason, I probably thought of it.”

“Run your hands through my hair?” I blink at him, thinking of all the times he told me to straighten it.

“I know, right? Preferring straight hair makes sense, but seeing yours captivated me.”

He looks down at his hands, his fingers twitching slightly as if they’re fighting the urge to reach across the blanket. “If I am being truly honest, there are moments even now where I still want to reach out and run my hands through those curls just to help pat them down so they are not quite as wild.”

I don’t feel the familiar prickle of irritation. I don’t feel the urge to defend my appearance. Instead, another genuine bubbling laugh escapes my throat, echoing against the brick walls of the sanctuary.

“Julian Plaza, are you seriously telling me that you want to manually flatten my hair right here in this overgrown alleyway?” I ask, shaking my head as the sheer absurdity of his admission settles over me.

His eyes snap to mine, startled by my reaction. “It is an impulse for order that I am struggling to reconcile with the fact that I actually find you breathtaking exactly as you are.”

“I think I finally prefer the version of you that can admit to being a little bit ridiculous,” I tell him, wiping a stray tear of laughter from my eye.

“I suppose it is a bit ridiculous to try to tidy up a woman who has spent the morning wrestling with industrial debris,” he admits, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

I take another sip of wine while being conscious to stay as sober as possible, given the work we’re doing. “You can run your hands through my hair whenever you’d like, Julian, but you have to promise not to use any hairspray while you’re doing it.”

He reaches across the space between us, his fingers hesitating for a fraction of a second before they gently brush a stray, dust-covered curl away from my temple. “I promise that from now on, I will only touch your hair because I want to feel you, not because I want to fix you.”

The air between us hums with a quiet, renewed heat that has nothing to do with the sun. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like an accessory. I feel like a woman who is being seen by the only man I’ve ever truly wanted to see me.

“We should probably get back inside before Sarah assumes you have kidnapped me,” I murmur, though I make no move to stand.

“Last I heard, she is currently occupied with a very stubborn filing cabinet, so I believe we have at least five more minutes of peace,” he replies, his hand lingering near my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a tenderness that makes my breath hitch.

I lean into his touch, closing my eyes and letting the sound of the distant city and the local birds wash over me. The sanctuary is still a mess, and our marriage is still a complicated puzzle, but sitting here in the dirt with a sandwich and a man who is finally learning the language of my heart, I realize that some things are worth the effort of rebuilding from the ground up.

Chapter 31

Julian

The phantom sensation of Elowen’s curls still lingers on my fingertips as I drive away from the soon-to-be cat sanctuary.

The next day, I push open the door toCaffe Luna. It’s the exact same place Elowen and I met for our first accidental date. The coffee shop hasn’t changed, but I have, or at least I’m trying to. That’s why I’m here, laptop tucked under my arm, heart hammering against my ribs like it wants to escape.

The barista looks up from the register, her smile polite but vacant.

“Medium Americano,” I say.

I order the same thing I had that first day. Elowen had ordered a chai latte with almond milk. I remember thinking,Who drinks almond milk?It wasn’t until much later that I realized she preferred the taste. It was one of the countless details about her I dismissed without bothering to understand.

The barista calls my name, and I retrieve my coffee, letting the heat seep through the cup into my palms. Back at the table, I open my laptop and stare for a full minute before navigating to my personal cloud storage. Having not opened said pro-con list in years, I force myself to. Not that I want to, because I don’t. The thought of re-living the awful things I said about my loving wife hurts me, which I can only imagine is ten times worse forher.The folder structure on my cloud is meticulous, with everything in its place, every decision documented. That’s who I was. Who I still am, in many ways, though I’m trying to loosen the grip of that compulsive need for control when it infringes upon others.