Page 82 of Courage, Dear Heart

I press the doorbell and hear footsteps inside, followed by a cheerful voice. “I’ll get it!”

The door swings open, and I find myself face-to-face with a woman who could be a body double for Halle Berry. “You must be Elliott. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And you must be Sheila. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

She steps back. “Come on up. She’s ready.”

Before I can respond, Jillian appears at the top of the stairs. Her frame bathed in light; she looks ethereal.

I take the steps two at a time and when I finally get into her home, the sight of her freezes me in place.

She’s breathtaking.

I’ve never seen her like this. The blue dress she’swearing hugs her figure in all the right ways, the hem brushing mid-thigh, her legs bare and endless. Her hair, normally tied back in a ponytail, is styled with loose curls that fall about her shoulders, left bare by the thin straps of the dress. And her eyes—God, they seem even brighter, more vibrant, framed by whatever subtle makeup she’s wearing.

My chest tightens, my breath stalling as I take her in. I’ve seen her dozens of times before, in casual clothes, messy hair, no makeup—and each time, I thought she was beautiful. But this? This is a whole new level.

“You look beautiful, Jillian.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks go pink as she gestures to her friend. “Sheila, this is Elliott.” Was that a warning look she threw at Sheila? I hold back a laugh.

Jamie’s head pops up from behind the couch.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, raising my hands to sign.How are you?

His eyes brighten as he signs back slowly, his movements careful as if he wants to make sure I understand. This kid is so smart.

“Ready?” she asks me as if eager to escape before her friend says something.

“Whenever you are.”

She gives Jamie a tight hug, whispering instructions about candy and listening to Sheila. He frowns, signs two candies, and she relents with a laugh. “Okay, two candies. But save the rest for tomorrow.”

After their goodbyes, Jillian joins me at the door, grabbing her purse. As we step outside, I instinctively reach for her hand. Her fingers slip into mine with ease, and the warmth of her touch settles somethinginside me, quieting the lingering nerves and the flutters in my stomach. She’s already turning my world upside down, and she has no idea.

“I thought we could walk? My place is a few minutes away.”

Jillian’s silhouette against the fading evening light hides her expression in the shadows. “That’s a lovely idea. It’s a perfect night for a walk.”

From the first time I laid eyes on her, Jillian’s grace caught me off guard. She’s like a quiet melody, playing softly in the background, trying her best not to call attention to herself. But once you stop to listen, you find out how beautiful she is.

The walk to my apartment is a series of stolen glances and smiles. I’m dreading knowing what I have to do. She’s so lovely and I’m afraid to fuck this up. Every step closer to my home is an unnerving reminder of what’s at stake.

A ten-minute walk and an elevator ride to the fifth floor later, we enter my place. Her gaze sweeps across the open space. Golden light coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows casts a gentle glow on the modern, clean-lined furnishings. Jillian walks around the living room. A thick area rug covers most of the hardwood floors and silences her steps. Her fingers trace the back of a black leather sofa facing the marble fireplace. Plants and abstract art add splashes of color to the otherwise neutral palette of gray, white, and black.

“This is an interesting combination of . . . modern and cozy.”

“Cozy?” I never pictured my home as cozy. Modern, yes. Masculine for sure. But never cozy. I’m not one for knickknacks and unnecessary decorations.

“Definitely cozy.” Jillian continues her perusal, inspecting the built-in shelves that surround the gigantic flatscreen TV. Her fingers brush over the spines of books neatly arranged on the shelves. Organized by the author’s last name in alphabetical order. She stops to look at the few framed pictures I have. Most of them of my niece and my sisters. A couple of me and Grace. She makes her way to a love seat and runs her fingers over the soft throw blanket and then stops in front of the French doors. “Wow.”

“I got this place because of the view.” I open the doors to the balcony, and the sounds of the city invade the previously quiet space. The hum of cars, sirens in the distance, and voices carry in the wind. Below us, the small park is a patchwork of shadows and streetlamp-lit paths.

“Beautiful.” She leans against the chest-high railing and I want to pull her back even though I know the balcony is perfectly safe and she’s at no risk of falling.

I step next to Jillian. The breeze catches her hair and blows it toward me. Her sweet and clean scent washes over me.

“Yes, you are.” The words escape unbidden.

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