Verity(54)

I hit a wall today. I’m burnt out from working so much these past two weeks. And I could read more of Verity’s autobiography, but I’m really not in the mood to read about all the ways Verity can suck her husband’s dick.

I miss television. I haven’t stepped foot in their living room since I arrived here almost two weeks ago. I leave the confines of Verity’s office and make myself a bag of popcorn, then sit on the living room sofa and turn on the television. I deserve to be a little lazy because tomorrow is my birthday, but I’m not planning on telling Jeremy that.

I keep glancing at the top of the stairs because I have the perfect view of it from the couch, but Jeremy is nowhere. I haven’t seen much of him over the last couple of days. I think we both know how close we came to kissing the other night, and how inappropriate that would have been, so we’ve been avoiding each other.

I turn the channel to HGTV and settle into the couch. I’ve watched about fifteen minutes of a house remodel when I finally hear Jeremy coming down the stairs. He pauses mid-step when he sees me in the living room. Then he descends the rest of the stairs and makes his way over, joining me on the couch. He sits in the middle, close enough to reach over and grab a few pieces of my popcorn, but far enough away that we aren’t in danger of touching.

“Research?” he says, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

I laugh. “Of course. Always working.”

He grabs more popcorn this time, cupping some in his hand. “Verity would binge-watch TV when she had writer’s block. She said it sometimes sparked new ideas.”

I don’t want to talk about Verity, so I change the subject. “I finished an outline today. If it gets approved tomorrow, I’ll probably leave in a couple of days.”

Jeremy stops chewing and looks at me. “Yeah?”

I like that he doesn’t seem happy about the thought of me leaving. “Yes. And thanks for letting me stay longer than I should have.”

He holds my stare. “Longer than you should have?” He starts chewing again and faces the television. “I don’t think it’s been long enough.”

I don’t know what he means by that. If he thinks I didn’t do enough work while I was here, or if he’s saying it selfishly, like he didn’t get to spend enough time with me.

Sometimes, especially right now, I feel how much he’s drawn to me, but then other times it seems like he works so hard to deny whatever attraction there might be between us. And I get that. I do. But is this how he’s going to spend the rest of his life? Giving up huge parts of himself to care for a woman who is just a shell of the person he married?

I understand he made vows, but at what cost? His entire life? People get married assuming they’ll live long, happy lives together. What happens when one of those is cut short, but the other is expected to live out those vows for the rest of their life?

It doesn’t seem fair. I know if I were married and my husband were in Jeremy’s predicament, I wouldn’t want my husband to feel like he could never move on. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be as obsessed with a man as Verity was with Jeremy.

The show ends and another one begins. Neither of us speaks for several minutes. It’s not that I have nothing to say—I have a lot to say. I just don’t know that it’s my place.

“I don’t know very much about you,” Jeremy says. His head is against the back of the couch and he’s looking at me, casually. “Have you ever been married?”

“Nope,” I say. “Came close a couple of times, but it never worked out.”

“How old are you?”

Of course, he would ask me that when my age will expire in just over an hour. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Jeremy laughs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’ll be thirty-two. Tomorrow.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying. I’ll show you my driver’s license.”

“Good, because I don’t believe you.”

I roll my eyes and then go to the master bedroom to grab my purse. I bring back my driver’s license and hand it to him.

He stares at it, shaking his head. “What a shitty birthday,” he says. “Hanging out with people you barely know. Working all day.”

I shrug. “If I wasn’t here, I’d just be alone in my apartment.”

He stares at my driver’s license a moment longer. When he runs his thumb over my picture, I get actual chills. He didn’t even touch me—he touched my fucking driver’s license—and it turned me on.

I am pathetic.

He hands it back to me and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“To make you a cake,” he says, walking out of the living room.

I smile and then follow him to the kitchen. Jeremy Crawford baking a cake is something I don’t want to miss.

???

I’m sitting on the island in the middle of the kitchen, watching him put icing on the cake. In all the days I’ve been here, this is only the second time I’ve actually had fun. We haven’t talked about Verity or our tragedies or the contract for the past hour. While the cake was baking, I sat on the bar, my legs dangling off the edge of it. Jeremy leaned against the counter in front of me and we talked about movies, music, our likes and dislikes.