Page 14 of Entirely Yours
Ben nods. “She’s really fucking cute. She makes me call her Princess Chloe, and she can’t get Sassafras right so she keeps calling it ‘Sassyass.’”
Jealousy consumes me. I want to know every part of Thea’s world, and I’m frustrated that Ben now knows more than I do. He can sense it too because he puts his hands up in surrender.
“I’ll postpone tea,” he concedes.
“Thank you. I think… maybe I’ll go to Harriet’s and pick up some flowers after I sign the lease documents tomorrow.”
I take a deep breath, willing my body to calm down. It doesn’t work, and I know the next eighteen hours will be torture until I can lay eyes on Thea myself.
I once told Bex that I’d never been in love, and that’s still true. But after one fucking night with Thea, I’m starting to get all the hype.
I might vibrate right out of my skin. That’s what this feels like.
I’ve signed the lease with Ethel, picked up some white roses from Harriet—Thea seemed to like my rose tattoo—and now I’m headed to her apartment.
I almost turn around and leave three times before I convince myself to knock. Fear that seeing me might freak her out influences my actions, but the desire to make sure she’s real wins out.
I knock on the door across from Gabe and Ben’s before taking a step back. I have no idea if my brothers are home, and to be honest, I don’t care.
The door swings open, and Thea looks oddly like a man in his late forties or early fifties. “Who the hell are you?” the man huffs.
Clearing my throat, I answer, “Jules, sir. Julien. Bardot.”
He raises an eyebrow at me and his handlebarmustache twitches, but he doesn’t verbally reply so I continue talking. I would admire said mustache if I wasn’t so nervous right now.
“I’m—is there someone named Thea here?” I ask.
Just then another voice chimes in. “Is it Ben for our tea party, Pop?” A little blonde head pokes out from behind the man’s leg. “Woah,” she says when she sees me.
I raise my hand in a wave and then remember I’m holding a dozen roses. The girl moves from behind her grandfather and takes the bouquet out of my hand. “Thank you, almost-Ben,” she says.
“I think those were for your mama, darlin’,” the man tells her.
“She won’t mind sharing.” And then she prances off back into the apartment with the roses I brought.
It all happens so fast, I haven’t even had time to reply when the man says, “Well, thanks for stopping by.” Clearly I’ve been dismissed.
He starts to close the door before I stick my hand out to stop it. “Wait! Is she here?”
Obviously, I look distraught because the man takes pity on me and shakes his head. “Nah, son, she’s down at the studio.” As if I know what that means.
“Right…” I take a step back. “Thank you.”
He looks like the kind of man who would tell me I’m dumber than a sack of potatoes or some other old western saying. “The dance studio. Down the street.” He makes a vague gesture and then slams the door shut.
The door opens behind me and Tweedledee and Tweedledum stick their heads out. “He’s scary, right?” Ben says, rather unhelpfully.
“Are you going to go find her?” Gabe asks.
My only reply is a grunt in their general direction before I head down the stairs toward the abandoned dance studio right next door to the soon-to-be Bardot Brothers Coffee Co.
I try not to think about how awkward this will make things if she rejects me.
When I walk up to the studio window, there’s one lamp turned on in the back corner.
And she’s there.
And she’s real.
