The One I Want

After staring at her message for hours, I still don’t know how to reply. Am I missing something? Well, other than her. I’ve tried to read between the lines, but it might just be that she misses me.

It’s a big leap from not talking to me to missing me, but she was brave enough to take it. I text: I miss you, too.

And then send before I can second-guess my decision. It’s gone. Sent. It’s the truth, and that’s what we need to share right now. I’ve been more miserable than the weather. Whiskey’s become my friend in this pocket of the Pacific Northwest. It does what she used to do—keep me warm and my mind off how unhappy I am.

Juni was softer, sexy as all fuck without even trying. She made me laugh and threw me mental curveballs. Whiskey fails to do that pretty much on all levels. I’m thinking drinking my troubles away doesn’t suit my type A personality.

It’s not my friend. It’s happy to remind me of all my failings. How pathetic, Christiansen. I get up and empty the glass I just filled.

Liquor won’t help me get over the woman I lost . . . not lost. I didn’t lose Juni. She was right there in my arms and in my bed, at my work, and filling my head with destiny. No, I didn’t lose her. I put her second to my work.

Work—something a person has to do. Has to do.

Juni—what I want to do. Okay, besides having great sex, I want to spend time with her. It wasn’t about entertaining me or stepping out of the box anymore. It was about her.

My day.

My night.

My life.

My world had begun to revolve around her sun.

Even now, I feel lighter just thinking about her, so why the fuck am I texting her when I should be calling. I grab my phone and do just that.

The worst thing I did was to put space, time, and distance between the woman who made me realize I deserve to be happy and me. Cliché as that might sound, it’s true.

The company will not fold, the clients’ business may or may not be salvaged, but CWM will stay strong. And so will I.

I run my hand over the top of styled hair, a quick check to make sure every strand is in place. It’s a bad habit. She can’t even see me, so I hold the phone to my ear.

Ring.

Ring. Why am I getting nervous?

Ring. Come on.

Ring. Please answer. Please answer.

Ring. My chest begins to deflate.

Ring. “You have reached my voicemail. Leave a message and have a great day!”

If a voice matched her beauty, that was it—sunshine and a pretty melody. My Juni.

Mine.

I pull up my chat box again and read the message two times over. My stomach is full from my heart sinking to the bottom of it, and for the first time in years, I have no fucking clue what to do.

Yes, I do. I know. I pick up my phone again and call the one other person who can help me through this. The call is answered on the second ring. “Andrew?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hey there. I’m surprised, pleasantly, to hear from you.”

“I just wanted to hear your voice, talk to you about this miserable weather, or whatever else.”

“You don’t sound like your usual self. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been thinking about you, Dad, and Nick and Natalie.” I don’t care about my hair. I shuffle my fingers over it until bangs hang down. “I never saw myself getting married.”

“Not everyone does. Not everyone feels that need. Some people prefer to live alone, and some have partners. The beauty of life is that you get to decide how to live it. Do you remember what I used to say to you boys when you hit your teens and were driving?”

For as laid-back as Cookie is now, she worried a lot back then. “Don’t do anything illegal, be kind to others and yourself, and—”

“Live the best life you can. Are you living your best life, Andrew?”

My fear of failing grips me, and I hold my tongue. Truth and honesty are the pillars of my friendship with Juni and the words that give me strength right now. My mom only wants the best for me, even at the expense of the company. “No.”

Her sadness comes through in a sigh. “How can you change that?”

“I don’t want to let you guys down.”

“You never have. Your happiness isn’t a disappointment to us. Being miserable because you think you have to sacrifice that happiness is. We never wanted one or the other. As parents, we all fumble the ball now and again, but we still want to help you reach the end zone, whether that’s carrying the ball or the team. It’s all a win if you’re happy.” It’s funny when my mom throws the random sports analogy into our conversations. She never grew to love the games, but as long as we were having fun, she loved watching us play.