We get back to his car, and I feel guiltier still for being grateful that he doesn't try to make small talk on the drive home. I look out my window as downtown Chicago in the evening rolls by, blurred at the edges.
It's fine. I'm good. Everything's good.
We reach my apartment building, and Elliot insists on walking me up to my floor. I warn him about the no-elevator part, but he says—
“It's fine.”
Heads turn our way at every flight of stairs. Doors open and close. A few of my neighbors even take photos of us shamelessly, and on the third-floor landing the woman from 3B doesn't even pretend to be holding her phone up casually. She just points it at us like she's documenting wildlife.
“Are they always like this?” Elliot asks under his breath as we climb past her. “I feel like half of them are just a 911 call away from having me arrested while the other half looks at me like I'm a walking scandal that's about to have his own Netflix doc.”
I just smile weakly again.
I don't think it's going to help to tell him he's right. Nicolo did say he handpicked every tenant here, and I have no doubt by now that they've got some kind of reward system going on for every photo and every piece of intel about Elliot they send his way.
We finally reach my apartment.
“So...” I say.
“If you're going to tell me this is our last date, could we not do it in the hallway?”
“Oh, um, sure—”
Elliot groans. “So youaredumping me!”
“I'm so s-sorry—” I'm flustered and stammering at how quickly things escalated. “I didn't—”
A rakish grin replaces the hurt look on his face. “I was kidding.”
Seriously?
I'm torn between anger, amusement, and exasperation as I unlock the door and let him in, and on the way through I catch a glimpse of two of my fourth-floor neighbors taking photos of me as I close the door behind us.
Nicolo must be paying them really, really well for everyone to be so dedicated. Some people would probably think that's criminally romantic, and I probably would too...if I believed he had any feelings for me.
“Juniper.”
Elliot's gentle voice draws me out of my thoughts, and I quickly wipe my eyes dry when I realize I've been crying.
I haven't cried about him in years.
“S-Sorry...”
I turn to face him as I say it.
But oh no.
The look on Elliot's face...
“I could be wrong about this, but—is there someone else?”
No no no.
“And I could be wrong about this, too...”
No, please, no.
“But you love him, don't you? Even if he's broken your heart.”